Enchanted Fire Read online

  Jason shrugged. “If I have King Aietes’ leave, I will kill the serpent and take the fleece.”

  He spoke with calm certainty. Medea’s grip on him tightened and her breath drew in. Jason’s eyes slid down to watch her full breasts move under her silken gown.

  “You are sure you can kill the serpent?” Aietes asked.

  Jason laughed. “I am sure I can try. If I do not kill it, I suppose it will kill me and thus free me from my pledge to Pelias.” He hesitated, then continued seriously. “I will give my pledge that if the serpent kills me my men will take no revenge nor will they try again to obtain the golden fleece—if you will let them go without let or hindrance.”

  Aietes smiled. “I can give my oath on that. No one will interfere with their going at any time. Nor will the illusion of rocks and wild water hinder them.” His eyes studied Jason measuringly. “And I do not deny I would like to be rid of the serpent. On the other hand, the fleece is a rich prize, and I am not really willing to part with it. Thus, I will use two trials to try your determination—and your ability. But come, let us eat. I will speak of the trials later.”

  Eurydice had kept her head turned toward Aietes while he spoke, but her eyes flickered back and forth between him and Medea. It seemed to her that when Aietes spoke of being rid of the serpent, a flicker of fear showed in Medea and a faint frown creased her brow when he mentioned the trials. She intended to think about it, but was drawn into conversation with Bounos, who had heard she was a witch and seemed very curious about her abilities. The food was surpassingly good, some of it odd but delicious enough that despite their varying levels of anxiety all ate heartily. After the meal, Aietes asked if Orpheus would play while they toyed with sweet fruit and wine.

  Both Aietes and Medea expressed the greatest appreciation for Orpheus’ art, and both gave him a rich gift, but neither Eurydice thought—with some relief—was really deeply affected. Layer upon layer of protection spells, she suspected, dulled all sensibilities. And, she acknowledged, Aietes might be feeling some anxiety that distracted him from truly hearing Orpheus. Certainly, he returned to the subject of the trials as soon as he could politely do so.

  Eurydice continued to look at Aietes and, with only flickering glances, Medea, who never once seemed to look at anyone but Jason. She could not decide whether Medea was simply better at concealing watchfulness or had discounted everyone else. Quite possibly the latter, Eurydice decided, as she saw the faint expression of contempt flicker across Medea’s face when her father described the trials. Jason would have to harness a pair of fire-breathing bulls—they were the only creatures strong enough, Aietes said, to pull the golden fleece from the water. However, even if Jason managed to harness them, they would not obey him until he plowed a field with them and sowed in the furrows the teeth of a dragon.

  “I presume I must find and kill the dragon first,” Jason remarked, his tone and raised brows implying he now knew the trials were merely a device to make acquisition of the fleece impossible.

  “No,” Aietes replied, smiling slightly. “I will furnish the teeth. They are another family treasure, handed down from an ancestor who did kill a dragon. And I will show you how to harness the bulls and how to plow the field.”

  Now Medea wore a faint look of anxiety, but Eurydice could have sworn that it was a false covering for a kind of satisfaction. Medea was pleased with the trials her father had chosen, but she did not want him to know that she was pleased.

  Jason was clearly surprised and trying to hide it. “That seems fair enough, more than fair,” he said, and then, “Why should you help me to steal a treasure from you?”

  “Because—” Aietes hesitated. His eyes slid to Medea and then back to Jason “—I want the serpent dead more than I want to keep the golden fleece and yet, I cannot give up the fleece without a struggle. Besides, my help will not protect you from the fire the bulls breathe.”

  “And what crop will you reap from the dragon’s teeth?” Jason asked.

  “An army,” Aietes said, smiling again. “Perhaps if you showed yourself strong enough to command them, they would help you kill the serpent that guards the golden fleece.”

  Jason frowned, then shrugged. Eurydice could read his certainty that Aietes would never have mentioned controlling the army if it were possible. However, he might be able to use the men—or whatever they would be—by some clever device. Jason, Eurydice knew, trusted himself to invent clever devices.

  “Well, I will accept your challenge,” he said slowly. “I can think of ways to harness a bull without standing where it can blow upon me, and Colchis is too far from Yolcos for the army I will raise to be a threat to my people, even if I cannot turn it to my will. If you will swear in public, by oaths that will bind you, that once I have won the golden fleece, I may take it onto my ship and depart in peace, I will harness the bulls, plow the field, and deal with the serpent.”

  There was some more talk between Aietes and Jason to refine the terms and times of the trials. It would take him, Aietes said, a week to bring the bulls from where they were confined, but Jason and his friends—Aietes nodded at Mopsus, Eurydice, and Orpheus—or even his whole ship’s company were welcome to lodge as his guests if they wished. Jason proffered thanks and assured Aietes that he would let him know before they did anything. A few more courtesies and they parted, Jason and his party following one of the inhuman guards down the stairs and back to their own apartments.

  Although no one was sure whether the guard was instructed to listen, all remembered that Phrontes had said their memories were infallible so they remained silent until the door closed behind them. Then Jason asked, “Are there really bulls that breathe fire?”

  Mopsus shrugged. “There are many legends of such beasts. I do not know of anyone who has seen them himself. Eurydice?”

  She shook her head. “I do not know. Some legends are real. I once saw a cockatrice—Lady save me from another sight of the thing. About the bulls—I think the fiery breath will be an illusion, but it does not matter. To defeat an illusion by knowing it is such and rejecting or closing one’s mind to it, takes the deepest concentration. If Jason just had to stand before them and withstand the illusion, he might succeed. But he cannot do that. He must harness the bulls, which means half or more than half of his mind and will must be given to that. Real or illusion, Jason must act as if the flames were real. This much I will tell you—and you must believe me: If that breath touches you, you will burn in agony whether it is illusion or real.”

  “That is true, Jason,” Mopsus said. “I have seen an illusion nearly strangle a man to death.”

  “If I go with Jason, I think I could charm the bulls into quiet—”

  “Orpheus!” Eurydice exclaimed. Her lover’s usually mild blue eyes were almost as bright as Jason’s as he contemplated this new, exciting challenge.

  He smiled at her briefly, but his attention went back to Jason. “We would have to look over the ground. Perhaps I could play from up in a tree?”

  “And where will you go when the bull sets the tree aflame?” Eurydice asked.

  “But a tree cannot see an illusion,” Orpheus protested. “Why should it catch afire?”

  “If the tree did not catch afire,” Jason said thoughtfully, “I think I could armor my mind against the illusion.”

  “Perhaps.” Eurydice spoke through thin lips and set teeth. “But I do not think those guards of Aietes’ are illusion, and if he can conjure them, why not a bull with fiery breath? If my guess and Mopsus’ that the fire is illusion is wrong, you and Orpheus would both be dead. That seems a high price to set on a guess.”

  “Well, at least we would not be able to scold you for guessing wrong,” Orpheus said, laughing.

  Eurydice’s lips had parted for a none-too-pleasant rejoinder to such light-hearted nonsense in a serious situation when the door opened to show a very pretty maiden. “If you please,” she said in a meek little voice, “Lady Medea would like to speak to Lord Jason.”

&nb
sp; “When and where?” Jason asked.

  “Now, if you please, my lord,” the maid answered. “I will take you.”

  Without more than a nod, Jason went out the door after the maid. Orpheus stood staring at the closed door for a long moment, then he looked from Eurydice to Mopsus. “Are you sure he is not ensorcelled?”

  “I am not sure of anything,” Mopsus said bitterly. “Ever since we left Lemnos my powers have faded. I can still sense some things, but Jason was never easy to read and now I must believe what he says, for I have no other guide.”

  “I do not think so, Orpheus,” Eurydice said. “Not that I would be able to feel a spell any better than Mopsus, but Jason acts as I would expect him to act. He said he wished to give Medea the impression that she had enchanted him. What could he do with the maid watching except respond at once to Medea’s summons?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Orpheus said no more at the time, but he had not looked convinced, and over the week that followed, the question of how free Jason’s actions were arose more than once. On the one hand, Jason did not neglect his duties in the least: On the second day, he ordered that the Argo be anchored in the harbor rather than tied up at a dock. Although this meant the crew had to use the little boat to stand watches aboard, he did not explain his reason. In addition, he visited the ship regularly, making sure that the men were well quartered and that they were experiencing no difficulties in keeping watch aboard or in the city. He also arranged to resupply the ship. On the other hand, he spent every moment that those duties did not swallow, both day and night, with Medea. That he did explain. Aside from her natural attractions, which Jason made no pretense of ignoring, he told Orpheus that she had said she would help him pass the trials Aietes had set.

  For the fire, she was preparing a salve that would protect him. She had taught him the secret words that Aietes used to control the bulls. And she had told him that what would spring from the earth after the dragon’s teeth were sown was an illusion of an army. That illusion could not be used to kill the serpent, who would not even see them, but it would be real enough to destroy him and his crew. If, however, Jason could throw a stone among them from a hiding place that would strike one of the mindless soldiers, they would turn on each other and fight until all were dead. Last but not least, because the serpent was well-armored and thus very hard to kill, Medea would provide Jason with a draught that would put the creature into a deep sleep—at least long enough for him to drag the fleece from the river so he could bring it back to the palace.

  These were sound reasons for keeping Medea happy, Eurydice and Mopsus agreed when Orpheus passed on the information, but what made all of them continue to question Jason’s free will was his absolute reliance on Medea’s promises. Normally, Jason was a cautious and suspicious person who preferred to have several alternate plans to complete any venture should his first effort fail. Now, when they pointed out that he would die if his trust in Medea was unjustified, he said it would not be. When they begged him to consider other methods of achieving his purpose, he laughed and asked why he should look for a steep and stony track when a level, smooth-paved road was laid out for him to follow. What was more, Jason began to grow really angry at the constant warnings and ordered them to stop badgering him and, better yet, to stop speaking ill of their hostess in her own house.

  At Orpheus’ and Mopsus’ insistence, Eurydice cast the strongest protection spell she knew and set it on Jason. It had no effect at all—Medea did not seem to know it was there, and Jason seemed no less enchanted with his lover. Eurydice could not determine whether that was because Medea’s magic was so superior to hers that her protection spell was of no value, or because no magic was being used to bend Jason’s will. Of course, Medea’s marking spell had not broken through the protection of Eurydice’s amulet, but the marking spell was a small thing without much Power attached.

  There were other reasons, however, to believe that Medea was using no charms other than those of her person on Jason. He seemed so besotted that most women would think it a waste of Power to try to ensorcel him. Also, if a magic bond like that was broken, it was not unknown for it to lash back at the caster and do real harm. Such spells were not laid lightly. And most important of all, Medea actually seemed more besotted than Jason.

  Eurydice was annoyed with Jason’s utter indifference to all their warnings, but Orpheus and the rest of the men seemed to feel obliged to help him. So, while Orpheus and the others tried to discover where the golden fleece was hidden, she did what she could. She went about the city, found a temple of her Goddess and introduced herself to the priestesses as a Gifted student of the temple in mountains north of Aprus. When she was made welcome, she enquired about the situation of the Gifted in Colchis. From there, she made a side excursion to Phrixos and the golden fleece—they knew the tale but nothing of where the fleece was—and came back to Colchis by way of the royal family. She did not dare ask specific questions about Medea, but it was not necessary. As soon as the priestesses heard she was a guest in the palace, they were eager to talk about the royal father and daughter.

  The priestesses rather liked Aietes but thought Medea the more powerful sorcerer. It was a shame, they agreed, that Aietes’ Gift had bypassed his sons, which meant that Medea would end up as queen of Colchis. Several rolled their eyes. One youngster with angry eyes and a bitter mouth said that the only reason she was not queen already was that she had not found a suitable consort strong enough to rid her of her male relatives. The others hushed her quickly and begged Eurydice, for her own sake, to forget what she had heard.

  “We understand,” an older priestess whispered in her ear, “that what is said—perhaps even what is thought—in the palace is soon known to the princess.”

  They changed the subject after that, but half Eurydice’s mind stayed with Jason. Was the rumor that Medea knew whatever was spoken in the palace the reason Jason would not criticize the woman—and told them not to speak ill of her in her own house? Perhaps Jason was not as enamoured as he seemed, and certainly a number of things the priestesses had said implied that Medea was behaving in an unusual way with Jason. Her usual pattern was to bed a man and then discard him, sometimes badly damaged if he were one of the Gifted. Jason, contrariwise, was clearly flourishing in the best of health and spirits.

  Eurydice dragged Orpheus out of the palace with a demand that he come buy her the gorgeous fabric she had found in the market, which was so unlike her that Orpheus simply came. As they walked, she told him in a low voice what she had heard.

  “So I think it is likely she wants Jason just as he is, not in the false bonds of a spell, which can do strange things to a man’s abilities. Jason is certainly strong enough to rid her of her father and brothers, and sly enough not to say outright that he would not do such a thing.”

  “Probably you are right,” Orpheus agreed, frowning, “but if he knows what she wants, how can he trust her?”

  “If he knows she ‘hears’ what is said in the palace, dare he even hint he does not?”

  “But he has said nothing to anyone on the ship either.”

  “Would he? Those men are all over the town drinking and whoring. A slipped word can come back to the palace, too. I tell you, Orpheus, I am growing less worried about Jason than about Aietes. If ill befalls him, all Colchis will suffer.”

  Not that there was much Orpheus or Eurydice could do, except to provide a haven for themselves by renting a room in a decent inn not far from the dock where the Argo’s small boat was tied. It would not have been safe to warn Aietes against his own daughter, but Eurydice thought it might be wise to let him know how far advanced was Jason’s courtship—or Medea’s. Unfortunately, that was also impossible because Aietes had disappeared. Medea said, and even Eurydice had no reason to doubt her veracity, that he had gone to reassert his dominance over the fire-breathing bulls, which took time. So Eurydice did the best she could and pointed out the obvious to Bounos, who she hoped would pass the word along. The stew
ard’s reaction was disappointing.

  “I had noticed,” he said, “My master will be delighted. He has been hoping for a long time that Medea would find a man who could hold her interest. That this one has bound her so firmly that she is willing to aid him in killing the serpent will make Aietes very happy.”

  Later in their own chamber in the inn, Eurydice softly recounted this exchange to Orpheus and pointed out, “If the steward thinks Medea is entrapped by Jason, must it not be so? He has known her for many years.”

  “She may, indeed, have fallen into the pit she dug for Jason, but I do not believe she has lost sight of whatever purpose started her pursuit of him—and that must be a nearer thing than being rid of all her male relations. Surely that will take time and careful planning. I have been thinking… Bounos and Aietes both spoke of being rid of or killing the serpent. If I remember correctly, that is not Medea’s purpose. Did Jason not tell us that she will give him a potion to put the creature to sleep?”

  “You are right!” Eurydice exclaimed, then lowered her voice again. “What a fool I am. It makes a big difference. Medea said Aietes called the serpent and allowed Phrixos to bind it to the fleece. Is it not more likely that he would join Phrixos in that binding? And then, when Phrixos died the part of the spell bound to him would be free to be seized by another—most likely by the one who knew he was dead before any other. And if Medea—” Eurydice’s voice dropped still lower, until Orpheus had to pull her close against him to hear her at all; inns had thin walls. “If she had murdered Phrixos and had replaced his bond to the serpent with her own, she might, if her father had been distracted and not fought her off, have fastened some kind of lock on Aietes.”

  “So Aietes wants the serpent dead and Medea wants it alive,” Orpheus mused. Then he shook his head. “But if that is so, why help Jason at all? One would think she would do her best to keep him away from the serpent.”