Nobody's Prize

“Why do you call him ‘false’?” I asked, taking a bite of my bread.

 

“Because he’s got no more right to rule this land than I do, since Prince Jason returned. Child, surely you know the whole story behind that great ship, the one that waits for you and your master?”

 

“I know that Prince Jason ordered it built and manned it with heroes to bring the Golden Fleece back to Iolkos,” I replied.

 

“Zeus bless you, is that what you believe?” Melitta clucked her tongue as she arranged a fresh row of silvery fishes on the hot, flat stone. “Prince Jason’s father was our king. They say the shock of Lord Pelias’s treachery killed him. His widow claimed that the infant prince had died as well. Truth was, she sent him to safety far from here.”

 

“Why didn’t she go with him?” I asked. “How could she stand to lose her husband and her child, too?”

 

“She stayed in Iolkos so Lord Pelias would believe the lie that saved her baby’s life.” The old woman looked grim. “I wish the gods had let that brave woman live to see her son return. And what a return, on the heels of the Pythia’s prophecy!”

 

My ears perked up when she mentioned my friend Eunike. “What prophecy?”

 

“Last year Lord Pelias sent a rich gift to Delphi and asked about the future of his reign. The god replied that Lord Pelias should fear nothing but this: a man who’d come to Iolkos wearing only one sandal, but who’d have the protection of Hera.” Melitta turned the fish with a charred wooden spoon. “Exactly how Prince Jason arrived, half shod, but bold as if the queen of the gods held him in the palm of her hand.”

 

Now the bully’s comment about liars wearing only one sandal made sense. “If the Pythia’s prophecy told Lord Pelias to fear a man wearing one sandal, I’m surprised he didn’t have Prince Jason killed.”

 

“Oh, he would have, if he’d dared. But Prince Jason first made sure that plenty of powerful folk knew who he was. Many of our nobles don’t care for Lord Pelias and stand ready to welcome any change. Prince Jason’s got their protection against direct attacks.” She gave the anchovies one more turn with the spoon and slid them onto her own piece of flatbread.

 

Milo was bewildered. “If Prince Jason came to claim his throne, why is he sailing off to Colchis?”

 

The fishwife took a bite of her dinner. “Our prince is smart, but our king is crafty,” she said with her mouth full. She swallowed, then added, “He pretended to welcome his nephew home and pledged to make him heir, even before his own son. But I hear that at the banquet that night, he kept Jason’s wine cup full and turned the talk to heroes. He twisted things until our prince found himself trapped by his own inescapable oath to fetch the Golden Fleece.”

 

“Why would he vow to do something that risky, just when he’d gotten everything he wanted?” Milo asked.

 

“Here’s a lesson for you, lad.” Melitta leaned forward and poked him sharply in the ribs with one gnarled finger. “Don’t drink heavily at your enemy’s table, especially when your enemy claims to be your friend. The instant that Prince Jason swore he’d bring back the Fleece, the king quickly promised his nephew a fine new ship and supplies.” She took another bite of fish and bread before concluding, “If I had a sheep for every man who made his own trouble by swearing a stupid oath while drunk, I’d be a rich woman.”

 

 

 

 

 

3

 

 

 

 

 

SHIPMATES

 

 

Iolaus came for us the next night. The Argo was to sail at dawn. He brought Melitta a jar of the finest barley and another one filled with olive oil. She tried to refuse the gifts, but Iolaus could be very persuasive and charming. I liked him more and more for the kind and honorable way he treated someone who clearly had no power over him, for good or ill.

 

I dug into my belt-pouch and gave her one of my silver charms. She wanted to refuse that too, on the grounds that she wasn’t a beggar or a weakling and could still support herself with no one’s charity. I told her it wasn’t payment, but a keepsake, and asked her to remember us in her prayers to Poseidon.

 

There was more than moonlight brightening the harbor that night. The Argo was no longer beached beside the other ships but rocked at anchor some distance from shore.

 

“The king’s orders,” Iolaus whispered. “He thinks that once the ship’s got all her supplies aboard, she’d be too heavy for us to launch. That shows how little he knows of ships, or how little he thinks of us!”

 

“Or how eager he is to be sure nothing keeps Prince Jason here,” I murmured.

 

Torches lit the shore near the Argo, with a strand of flames trailing down the path from the citadel. Sentries stood watch while slaves laden with the last provisions waded out to the ship. At Iolaus’s direction, Milo and I waited in the shadows until he came back for us with two of the slaves. “Climb on their shoulders and they’ll get you on board.”

 

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