Medea Falls for Jason — Greek Mythology

The Argo Comes to Colchis

For a long time the Argo had wandered over the sea. Again and again her oars cut through the waves, and her planks shone with salt water. The heroes passed many strange coasts until at last they saw the mouth of the river Phasis. Its waters came down from the inland country, carrying the smell of mud and wet grass. Thick trees grew along the banks, and far off rose walls and the roofs of a palace.

This was Colchis, the land where the Golden Fleece was hidden. Jason stood at the prow and looked toward the shore, knowing that he had reached the hardest trial of all. The Fleece was not a treasure a man could simply take and carry away. It belonged to Aeetes, king of Colchis, and hung from an oak in a sacred grove, guarded by a dragon that never slept.

The Argonauts moored their ship in a hidden place and debated what they should do. Some urged that they take up their weapons at once and break into the grove by night. Others warned that a foreign land was dangerous and that they should not move rashly. In the end Jason chose to go first to the king as a guest. He put on his cloak, took several companions with him, and walked along the riverbank toward the palace.

The palace gleamed with bronze pillars. Its threshold was broad, and in the courtyard were fountains and even flights of stone steps. Aeetes sat on a high seat, stern-faced, with a watchfulness in his eyes that was not easily seen. When he saw these Greeks who had come from so far away, he received them according to custom. He gave them seats, and ordered servants to set out food and wine.

Jason did not speak in riddles. He said that he had come from Iolcus, sent to seek the Golden Fleece. He wished to make a lawful request, not to seize another man’s possession like a robber. If the king would give him the Fleece, he and his companions would depart.

When Aeetes heard this, anger rose in him at once. He did not believe that these men had come only to fulfill a task. Perhaps, he thought, they had been sent by the kings of Greece to steal his treasure, or even to take his throne. Yet he did not burst out in anger. He pressed it down in his breast and slowly devised a plan.

He said to Jason, “If you truly have the courage of a hero, I can give you the Golden Fleece. But first you must do one thing for me. In my fields there are two divine bulls, bronze-footed, iron-horned, and breathing fire from their mouths. You must yoke them, drive them across the field of Ares, and sow the dragon’s teeth in the earth. When warriors spring up from the ground, you must strike them down. Do this, and the Fleece shall be yours.”

For a moment the palace fell silent. When the Argonauts heard of fire-breathing bulls and warriors born from dragon’s teeth, their faces darkened. Jason too understood that this was not a trial but a path to death. Yet he could not draw back before the king. He could only accept.

Aeetes looked at him and inwardly judged that the young man was already not far from death.

The Princess in the Palace

That day, in the palace, a young woman was watching the foreign guests from a distance. She was Medea, daughter of Aeetes. She was not only a princess of the royal house, but also a priestess of the goddess Hecate. She knew herbs, spells, and the rites of the night. She knew which roots could stop blood, which leaf-juice could bring sleep, and how to pray to the powers beneath the earth.

At first she stood aside as custom required. But when Jason spoke, she could not keep herself from looking at him. This young man from far away stood straight-shouldered and spoke without cringing and without arrogance. The sea wind and the dust of travel still seemed to cling to him. He was not like the nobles she knew at court, nor like the silent, rough warriors of Colchis. He stood in a hall ringed with hostility, and he did not lower his head.

High among the gods, Hera and Athena were watching all this as well. Hera had long protected Jason, for he had once helped her by a river when she came to him in the shape of an old woman. Athena too did not wish to see the voyage of the Argonauts end in ruin here. The goddesses knew that by his own strength Jason would hardly win the Golden Fleece from the hand of Aeetes. Colchis had its fire-breathing bulls, its warriors of dragon’s teeth, the dragon in the grove, and the king’s suspicion. Without help from within the palace, the heroes would go in and never return.

So the goddesses went to Aphrodite and asked her to send her son Eros to act. The goddess of love agreed. Eros took up his bow and arrows and came to Colchis, slipping quietly into the palace. He was no armored warrior, no herald of the gods proclaiming himself aloud, but like a child both mischievous and dangerous, hiding among the shadows of pillars and folds of robes.

He chose Medea.

When Medea lifted her eyes again toward Jason, Eros loosed his arrow. It made no sound, but it went deeper than a spear. Medea felt a sudden heat in her breast, as though a spark had burned her. She lowered her head and tried to turn away from the foreigner’s figure; yet the more she refused to look, the more his face rose before her mind.

She clenched the sash in her hands until her knuckles whitened. She heard her father pronounce the cruel tasks, and fear came first, then anxiety for Jason. She knew what those two bulls were. Sparks flew beneath their bronze hooves, and flames poured from their nostrils; an ordinary man would be scorched before he ever came near them. She knew, too, that when dragon’s teeth were sown in the earth, armed warriors would spring up, and those warriors would raise their spears to kill as soon as they were born.

“He will die,” Medea thought.

As soon as the thought came, panic seized her. She had no right to worry over a stranger, still less over her father’s enemy. Yet the more she tried to drive the thought away, the more it spread through her like wildfire.

Torment in the Night

When the feast was over, Jason and his companions left the palace and returned to the Argo. Aeetes went back to his inner chambers, secretly planning how he would deal with the rest of the Greeks once Jason had died in the field. The palace gradually fell quiet. Firelight from the braziers shone along the stone walls, but Medea could not sleep.

She lay on her bed and turned from side to side. Outside the window, the night wind stirred the curtains. She heard the river flowing in the distance, the footsteps of the guards, and her own quickened heartbeat. Now she remembered her father’s stern face; now she saw Jason standing in the hall.

She told herself, “He is a foreigner. He has come to take my father’s treasure. If he dies, it is the road he chose.”

But another voice answered within her: “Without help, tomorrow he will be burned alive. You have the power to save him.”

Medea sat up, her long hair falling over her shoulders. She thought of the ointment she kept hidden. It was no common salve boiled from ordinary herbs. It came from a wondrous plant connected with the blood that had fallen while Prometheus suffered. For a time it could make a man unafraid of flame and unharmed by iron. If Jason rubbed it on his body, his shield, and his spear, he could approach the fire-breathing bulls and withstand the attack of the warriors.

But if she gave the ointment to Jason, she would be helping an enemy behind her father’s back. If the matter came to light, there would be no safe place left for her in Colchis.

She wanted to go to the temple and pray, yet feared she would be discovered. She wanted to throw the ointment away, yet could not bear to do it. She even thought that if Jason died, she herself would be freed from this torment. But the instant that thought arose, she recoiled as if stabbed and covered her face with both hands.

Dawn was near, and Medea still had not slept. Her heart was being pulled nearly apart between two directions: on one side were her father, her homeland, the palace, and the gods she had honored since childhood; on the other was the foreign hero she had seen only once. He had asked nothing of her, yet his life and death had already bound themselves around her.

The Goddesses’ Design

Medea was not struggling alone. Hera did not wish her to draw back. The will of the goddess moved like an unseen wind, pushing events step by step onward.

Meanwhile, beside the ship, Jason was consulting with his companions. After hearing Aeetes’ demand, his heart was heavy. There were many brave men among the Argonauts, but none could lightly claim that he could master fire-breathing bulls with his bare hands. Some urged Jason to flee by night; others said they should go straight to war. Jason was silent for a long while.

At this time, Chalciope, daughter of Aeetes, remembered her sons. She had once been married to Phrixus, the very man who long ago had ridden the golden ram to Colchis. After his death he left sons behind, and those sons had later met danger at sea and been rescued by the Argonauts. Chalciope knew that among these Greeks were men who had saved her children, and she did not want them all to die in her father’s trap.

She went to her sister Medea. As they spoke, Medea tried hard to hide her unease, but the pallor of her face and the alarm in her eyes could no longer be concealed. Chalciope begged her to find some way to help the foreign heroes, or at least to save Jason, who had helped rescue her sons.

When Medea heard Jason’s name, her heart trembled. She had still been searching for reasons to persuade herself; now her sister’s words opened a door before her. She could tell herself that this was not for private passion, but to repay a debt of life. Yet in her heart she understood that this was not the only reason driving her to agree.

At last she said softly that she possessed an ointment that could protect Jason. But she would have to give it to him with her own hands and tell him how to use it. Chalciope was astonished and overjoyed, and quickly arranged for them to meet near the temple of Hecate.

The Meeting Before the Temple

Morning light lay along the road outside the city. Medea left the palace with her maidservants, pretending that she was going to the temple to sacrifice. She sat in her chariot with the little casket of ointment hidden against her, her fingers pressing constantly on its lid. The wheels rolled over the sandy ground with a soft sound, but to her each turn seemed to strike against her heart.

When they reached the place near the temple, the maidservants waited aside. Medea went into the grove, where the shadows of the trees fell across her dress. There she saw Jason already waiting. He was not wearing armor. He looked only like a man come to ask for help, weary in the face, yet still carrying hope.

At the sight of him, Medea could not speak at first. Jason saw her confusion and greeted her gently, asking her not to be afraid. He said that he knew she possessed wisdom given by the gods, and that without her help he could scarcely live through the next day. He begged her to save him, and promised that if he completed the task and returned to Greece, he would never forget her kindness.

As Medea listened, tears gathered in her eyes. She took out the little casket and placed it in Jason’s hands. It was small, yet it seemed to contain the whole of her fate.

She told him, “Tomorrow at dawn, bathe first, then sacrifice to Hecate. After that, rub this ointment on your body, and also on your shield, your spear, and your sword. For one whole day, fire will not burn you, nor will iron wound you. You must seize the bulls by the horns, force their heads down, and yoke them. When the dragon’s teeth are sown, armed warriors will rise from the earth. Do not rush to fight them one by one. Throw a great stone into their midst. They will not know who cast it, and they will suspect one another and kill one another. Then you must charge in and strike down those who remain.”

Jason listened carefully and fixed every word in his mind. He knew this was no ordinary help. Medea was giving him a way to live at the risk of betraying her father. He swore to her that if he left Colchis alive, he would take her to Greece, make her his wife, and see that she was honored there.

When Medea heard his oath, joy and fear rose together in her heart. She thought of her father’s palace, of the familiar riverbanks and temples, of the place where she had lived since she was a child. If she went with Jason, all this would be left behind. Yet she had already given him the ointment, and in that moment the road back had grown narrow.

Before they parted, Medea warned him again not to forget the sacrifice to Hecate and not to take lightly the warriors who would spring from the earth. Jason hid the casket and thanked her. The wind moved through the grove, and the leaves whispered, as though keeping their secret for them.

Love Falls Into Fate

When Medea returned to the palace, her face was still pale. Her maidservants thought she was tired after the sacrifice, and no one asked questions. But Medea herself knew that from the moment she entered that grove, the matter was no longer hers alone to govern. She had saved Jason and set herself between her father and the foreigner.

Jason returned to the Argo, opened the little casket, and saw within it a dark ointment that smelled of roots and sharp herbs. He told a few trusted companions what Medea had said. When the heroes heard it, the shadow that had weighed on their hearts lifted a little. They still knew that the next day would be perilous, but at least a path of life had been opened.

When night fell again, the palace of Colchis, the riverbank, and the place where the ship lay moored all grew quiet. Aeetes still believed his scheme could not fail. The fire-breathing bulls would trample the foreign hero, and the warriors born from dragon’s teeth would pierce him with their spears. But he did not know that his own daughter had already given Jason the means to overcome these dangers.

Medea sat alone in her chamber, staring into the darkness. She no longer struggled as she had the night before, for the choice had been made. She had fallen in love with Jason. That love had come suddenly, like a divine arrow driven into the heart, like a spark falling into dry grass. It saved a hero, and from that moment it changed the course of her own life.

The next day’s trial had not yet begun. The Golden Fleece still hung in the sacred grove, and the dragon still coiled beneath the tree without sleeping. Yet the most important thing had already happened: the one in the palace of Colchis who knew the strongest magic had taken Jason’s side.