The myth of Jason Medea and the Golden Fleece Iseult Gillespie
In the center of Colchis
in an enchanted garden,
the hide of a mystical flying ram
hung from the tallest oak,
guarded by a dragon who never slept.
Jason would have to tread carefully
to pry it from King Aeetes’ clutches
and win back his promised throne.
But diplomacy was hardly
one of the Argonauts’ strengths.
Jason would have to navigate
this difficult task alone.
Or so he thought.
Leaving most of his bedraggled crew
to rest,
Jason made for the palace with some
of his more even-tempered men.
His first instinct was to simply ask
the king for his prized possession.
But Aeetes was enraged
at the hero’s presumption.
If this outsider wanted his treasure,
he would have to prove his worth
by facing three perilous tasks.
The trials would begin the following day,
and Jason was dismissed to prepare.
But another member of the royal family
was also plotting something.
Thanks to the encouragement
of Jason’s guardians on Mount Olympus,
Medea, princess of Colchis
and priestess of the witch goddess Hecate,
had fallen in love with the challenger.
She intended to protect her beloved
from her father’s tricks — at any cost.
After a sleepless night, Jason
somberly marched to the castle—
but was intercepted.
The princess armed him
with strange vials and trinkets,
in exchange for a promise
of eternal devotion.
As they whispered
and planned their victory,
both hero and princess fell deeply
under each other’s spell.
Unaware of his daughter’s scheming,
the king confidently led Jason
to face his first task.
The hero was brought
to a huge field of oxen
that lay between him and the fleece,
and told that he had to plough the land
around the crowds of oxen.
A simple task— or so Jason thought.
But Medea had concocted
a fire-proof ointment,
and so he plowed the flickering fields
unscathed.
For the second task,
he was given a box of serpent’s teeth
to plant into the scorched earth.
As soon as Jason scattered them, each seed
sprouted into a bloodthirsty warrior.
They burst up around him,
barricading his way forward,
but Medea had prepared him
for this task as well.
Hurling a heavy stone she had given him
into their midst,
the fighters turned on themselves
as they scrabbled for it,
letting him slip by the fray.
For the third task,
Jason was finally face to face
with the guardian of the Fleece.
Dodging sharp claws and singeing breath,
Jason scrambled up the tree
and sprinkled a sweet-smelling concoction
over the dragon.
As the strains of Medea’s incantations
reached its ears
and the potion settled in its eyes,
the dragon sank into a deep sleep.
Elated, Jason climbed
to the top of the tallest oak,
where he slipped the gleaming fleece
off its branch.
When the king saw the hero
sprinting away—
not only with the fleece,
but his daughter in tow—
he realized he had been betrayed.
Furious, he sent an army
led by his son Absyrtus
to bring the ill-gotten prize
and his conniving daughter home.
But all the players in this tale
had underestimated the viciousness
of these disgraced lovers.
To the horror of the Gods, Jason ran
his sword through Absyrtus in cold blood.
Medea then helped him scatter pieces
of the body along the shore,
distracting her grieving father
while the Argonauts escaped.
As Colchis and their pursuers
grew smaller on the horizon,
a solemn silence fell aboard the Argo.
Jason could now return
to Thessaly victorious—
but his terrible act
had tarnished his crew’s honor,
and turned the Gods against them.
Buffeted by hostile winds,
the wretched crew washed up
on the island of Circe the sorceress.
Medea begged her aunt
to absolve them of wrongdoing—
but bloody deeds
are not so easily forgotten,
and fallen heroes
not so rapidly redeemed.