Medea - Kerry Greenwood The Delphic Women

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cut the boar's throat when he had swallowed my spear and was about to swallow me,' I said, but he would not smile.

      'I attacked too soon and missed my mark,' he said.

      'Yes,' I agreed.

      'And when it felled you, I froze,' he confessed. 'I was afraid.'

      'So was I. Hippos says I must forgive you, and I do, if you need forgiveness.'

      'You forgive me?' he said, looking into my face for the first time. He was as pale as marble.

      'I forgive you,' I said, kissing him on the brow in token of this, as is the Achaean custom. He embraced me, and I felt him draw a sharp breath.

      Then we turned to watch the centaurs. For a while I could not understand what I was seeing. The naked men were pursuing small figures, masked with horse-masks like the one which Hippos wore. Belts around their waists held horse tails which bobbed and wove in the warm air. Then one ran close enough for us to see the breasts of a young woman, the spangle of sweat on her belly and pubic hair. She was out of breath and collapsed to her knees right beside our rock.

      There her pursuer caught her. He, too, was masked, but it was a young man, his tattoo still bleeding. He grabbed her by the shoulders and mounted her in one movement like a stallion mounts a mare, roughly and from behind. She cried lamentably, wincing away from the hard thrusts, but his weight was on her and she was mastered. It was over in moments. He pushed her away, so that she fell on knees which must have been bruised.

      I was aroused and shocked. My phallus rose at her nakedness, but I was sorry for the maiden. She was a maiden no longer, wiping a hand over her insulted genitalia and sobbing at the sight of her own blood.

      The centaur sighted us. He did not lift his mask, but I heard him say 'Brother' to Jason and me. It was Philos, who had held my hand gently as we lay in the healing waters. His groin was dabbled with the maiden's blood and I heard him laugh.

      He seized the girl and pushed her to her knees again, presenting her to us as a cow is presented to a bull. Her buttocks were pale, her hair parted over the nape of her neck, and the horse's tail flowed between her legs. Jason looked at me. I said nothing as my lord knelt and took her, as he had a right to take what was offered; and I watched his face grow blank, like a carving, as his body moved against her and inside her. He groaned and stiffened in every muscle. When he withdrew from her he was also marked with her blood.

      'It is not the custom of my father's people,' I said to Philos as he pushed me toward the girl, 'to mate in plain sight.'

      I took the girl by the hand and helped her up. She followed me behind the rock into the shadow of the bushes. I let her down onto the moss and said, 'I will not hurt you.'

      'You alone of all men,' she said softly. I removed the mask to see her face. She was very young. She was beautiful, even tear stained and shaking as she was.

      'They will notice if you do not have my blood on you,' she said.

      'Give me some, then,' I replied. She reached between her thighs and smeared me with blood. The phallus rose at her touch, so sweet a touch that I gasped.

      'I would please you,' she said.

      'I will not mate with you. You bleed enough for one festival.' I was still disgusted by the centaur's mating, their violence to their women.

      'Lie down,' she said, 'and I will please you without hurting myself.'

      I lay down under the bushes, in the scent of sweat and smoke and blood, and the centaur woman caressed me with her mouth and her hands, her breasts soft against my thighs, and I felt a rush of fire, and cried aloud.

      --- IV ---

      MEDEA

      My father was ill for many weeks. There was no immediate opportunity to inform him that his suspicions as to who was conspiring to take over his throne were directed entirely the wrong quarter. Besides, he would not hear a word against Aegialeus, his only son.

      When Aetes became king, the oracle of Ammon - the Achaeans call him Apollo - had spoken. Thus I had been told as a child, to explain why my father never came to see me or my sister. A bronze horn had blown without human breath and a great voice had said from the sanctuary:

       Thanatos selects from Colchis' herd; his calves or his cows.

      'It is hard to love something which must die,' said Trioda in explanation. I had stored both the oracle and the clarification for future reference, for Trioda seldom answered further questions. Now I understood. Although I had seen the queen's care for my father, although he lay in her arms, he could not afford to love her because he had understood the oracle: if his children should live then his wives would die; as Chalkiope's mother had died, as mine had died, bearing us. He could not love us, for we had killed his wives. The anniversaries of our births were days of mourning for our father.

      'The seed of Aetes is black,' said Trioda, 'death-bearing'.

      I felt fortunate that I was a dedicated maiden, never to bear fruit, for the seed of Aetes was in me. Then again, my sister's children were strong and fine. Perhaps the seed of Phrixos the stranger, was strong enough to overcome the dark. I said as much to Trioda as we compounded yet another combination of heart-strengthening herbs. My father was responding to the medicines, although he flatly refused to allow us to sacrifice to Hekate on his behalf. The shaven, white-robed priests of Ammon visited every day and had interceded for Aetes of Colchis, slaying the bull who is the avatar of their god. I could smell burning flesh from the temple of the Sun as I ground foxglove in a mortar.

      'The sons of Phrixos are healthy,' Trioda said, pouring one decoction into another. 'But death is everywhere."

      'Surely,' I agreed. This was a ritual statement.

      'Closer than you might think, Princess,' she added. I stopped grinding.

      'Mistress, do you mean that my father's illness is induced, and that the sons of Phrixos are plotting to take over, as he thinks?'

      'Tssh, daughter, do not speak so plainly! I mean, maiden, that death is everywhere. Consider the situation, Medea.' She lowered her voice and I moved closer so that I could hear her. The scent of the herbs was making me giddy.

      'There are only two daughters of Colchis who could be married to provide the right to the kingship. There is you, daughter, but you are a priestess of Hekate and maiden and She Who Meets would lay a powerful curse on any who took you to wife, willing or unwilling.'

      I resumed pounding the herb so I did not have to look at her. It was time to tell Trioda of Aegialeus' plans, but I was hot with shame that I had endured his hands on my maiden body.

      'I would never be willing. It is my half-brother who wants this, he touched me, Trioda, when I went to the king. He wishes for Aetes' death, Mistress.'

      'Yes, yes, it is against all nature,' she said dismissively, unshocked, as though she already knew of my brother's assault on me and his revolting proposal. 'The seed of Aetes is death to women, and his son is Thanatos' own cousin.

      'But listen, Medea. There is your sister, Chalkiope. She is proved fertile, she is a widow, and she had four strong sons. A man who took her would be assured of heirs even if she bore no more children. He would have kinship and kingdom, according to the laws. But…'

      'But?' The sun was streaming through the window of the little temple. It was a bare building, wooden, with a tree leaning on either side and leaf litter on the floor for the serpents of the mother. Kore and Scylla lay asleep on the broad steps in the autumn sunshine, twitching occasionally. Trioda and I were working at the big table. Bunches of herbs hung from the roof and baskets contained other ingredients. The big bronze cauldron was simmering on a brazier, beside the copper pot in which we seethe the infusions which cause women to miscarry. No woman in Hekate's kingdom carries a child to term unwilling. Unlike Achaea, a child of rape will not live in Colchis, to give legitimacy to an unholy act.

      Along the wall were shelves of scrolls, the accumulated wisdom of the priestesses. I hoped that one day I would write one

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