The Crew of the Argo
Greece has no shortage of men.
In a society built around them, that much is only natural — yet even by looks alone, certain types stand out more than the rest. There are the Heraclean sort, bodies packed solid with muscle, who yield to no one in sheer physical beauty. There are the Adonis type — the ultra-pretty youths famous for setting Aphrodite and Persephone at each other's throats. There are the Orphean kind, gifted not only in looks but in the talent to delight a crowd. There are the winged oddities who carry the blood of Boreas, the North Wind, like the brothers Zetes and Calais. And then there are the great mass of heroes who, almost without exception, prize honor above their own lives and make a show of their manhood at every turn.
The man in question fell somewhere in between those examples. Not in any bad sense — he simply carried both a boyish quality and the bearing of a young man at once, the sort of face that would draw plenty of admirers among women who liked that particular mix.
Long chestnut hair swept back behind both ears and tied in a ponytail; black eyes with a mischievous glint that suited his open, almost childlike features… His body, too, was of the Hermes type — not overbuilt with muscle, but cut to an ideal shape. The bright chiton that matched his looks, and the short red chlamys fastened at his throat, were part of his charm as well. The red cloth fluttered freely, the way a child might imagine it would when he pictured himself a hero, catching the eyes of every woman who passed and stamping his handsome figure into their minds until they all found themselves wondering who he was.
That man was the 11th Jason.
Today's protagonist — the one setting out on a journey to become king of Iolcos.
Iolcos is a city-state famous for its beautiful night sea. By modern reckoning it would have stood near Volos in Greece, so of course its maritime facilities were well developed, and Jason himself was a young man of the sea who had never once found boarding a ship difficult.
This Iolcos held a special event on a regular schedule — the very Argonautai that had reached even the ears of Perseus 2.
It was a kind of succession contest to decide the next king of Iolcos. Jason's own bloodline had already run dry, so the current king of Iolcos would mark a man as the Jason of the next generation and put him to the test — to see whether he was fit to wear the crown. Of course, the whole once-in-a-lifetime affair was only possible because Medea, the present Queen of Colchis, had given her leave. Heroes had poured into Iolcos by the score just for the chance to take part.
"Quite a crowd again today."
"Every one of them has made a name for himself somewhere."
"You can tell just by looking. Not a man among them who doesn't deserve to be called a hero. I'd take the lot of them if I could — but the old legends and the great deeds set a hard limit on how many can board, so we have to pick only the best from this lot."
"I'll help however little I can."
"For the future king of Iolcos."
"Mm—!"
At the Iolcos soldier's words, the 11th Jason nodded in high spirits. He shook his ponytail as he greeted the throng of heroes, and the heroes roared back as if answering his every gesture. The sound was so thunderous it shook the ground and seemed ready to drag the clouds down out of the sky.
"You've all come a long way — well done! There's still time before the rest arrive, and we'll choose who boards the ship only once everyone is here! We haven't laid out much, but fill your bellies while you wait!"
Uoooooooooh!!!!!
At Jason's announcement the heroes, every one of them radiating confidence, claimed spots at the tables set up before the palace and set about their meals. Some, as if determined to display their valor, went so far as to drag in great beasts and tear the meat off the bone like barbarians — and that sort of behavior was already a mark against them.
That one won't do. I won't tell him to play at humility, but the air already reeks of a brawl waiting to happen. He won't mesh with the crew.
Outwardly he gave nothing away as he marked them down.
The Dioscuri brothers didn't come, did they. Zetes and Calais are here instead. That pair shows up without fail every time the name changes hands — I'll make sure to treat them with full honors in my generation as well.
When this many heroes gathered, there were always plenty who, like the 11th Jason himself, had inherited a legendary name. Those were the ones to watch especially carefully. Of course, a good reputation sometimes came with a bad one worth avoiding — and the next name-bearer was exactly that sort.
Someone carrying Oedipus's name showed up too? A hero famous for tragedy — better leave that one out if I can help it. There's also someone who inherited the name of Peleus, Achilles's father. That name is said to have been closely tied to the first Jason, so I can't leave him off.
Already the great design seemed to be taking shape, and Jason made no effort to hide his delight. Riding the momentum, he turned his gaze — and a hero worthy of it filled his eyes.
Meleager, the name that leaps to mind the moment you say Calydonian Boar! Ancaeus, who once took the helm of the ancestral Argo! Orpheus, whose songs helped them through crisis after crisis! So many carrying famous names! And especially over there — haha, he stands out even when he does nothing! Bellerophon the Second, who secretly carried a divine-age bloodline and was finally forgiven enough, in this generation, to be granted the name!
Most of them were men who had given great aid on the first Jason's voyage. Unlike the 11th, the 10th Jason had suffered badly for lack of such company — so this one was clearly riding a streak of luck, and he fixed his eyes on the most eye-catching spot of all.
Plenty of those who bore Jason's name before me ended as failures! But I will not be one of them! How could I, when this time even someone carrying a name as great as Bellerophon's is here!
The central figure in one of the Twelve Labors the gods had set — the slaying of the Hydra. The one who had inherited the name of Iolaus— was, of course, not the one drawing every eye. Strictly speaking, Iolaus too was an absurdly formidable hero, but standing next to the giant monster at her side, even that name looked faded.
He had skin burned dark by the sun and a frame that topped two meters. The muscle packed onto it was two or three times what any of the heroes gathered here could claim. Wearing the Nemean lion's hide that was his emblem, fangs bared as he chewed through a hunk of meat, he looked like something that had left the human species behind entirely.
So that's Heracles the Fourth!
If the representative heroes of the divine age were Bellerophon, Perseus, and Cadmus, then the man who had fixed the image of the hero for every age after was, without question, that man — Heracles. The giant standing before the 11th Jason was without a doubt a descendant of that Heracles, and one of the pillars of this expedition. Jason's face looked ready to split — he had never imagined the man would actually take part.
This expedition! It's as good as won!
Knowing a descendant of Heracles was joining, he felt his whole body loosen.
Those who had carried a bloodline down through the ages of their descendants and formally inherited an ancestor's name; those whose blood did not run that way, yet who had been granted a legendary name for their talent or the quality of their soul; and those who, like Jason himself, were allowed the name only after passing someone's trial…
Even among such formidable company he had already taken in the standouts, and the corner of his mouth rose of its own accord. There was still time left, and the thought that even greater figures might yet arrive made becoming king of Iolcos feel like a matter of course — strength settled into his shoulders.
I've looked the place over well enough. This time I'll finish by checking the ones who just arrived.
He turned his gaze toward the people walking slowly in to join the crowd. After Heracles, though, almost no one caught his fancy. At best they looked useful for odd jobs — and just as that dissatisfaction made him start to look away, a party approaching the palace from far off snagged his eye.
A woman… and a child…?
The woman herself was no problem. If you spoke of women who had boarded the first Jason's ship, only Atalante came to mind — but here the 11th Jason could pick and choose among female warriors. Not everyone who received a legendary name was a man, and plenty of heroines had gathered here as well. By proportion, there were more women than in the original generation.
So there was only one reason she had caught his eye.
Her looks.
Isn't she the most beautiful of all the heroines who applied this time?
Interest stirred unbidden. Whether it would flare into the fire of love he did not yet know — but at the least, Jason liked her. And unlike the others, she had brought a black horse that anyone could see was a fine steed or even a divine mount, and an oddly interesting little brat along with her.
Is the one beside her a kid playing at being a priest?
What seized the next Jason's attention was not a chiton but a boy wrapped in a himation. He had wound a length of cloth three times what ordinary people wore up over his head into a kind of hood, looking for all the world like a pilgrim — and the splendid, massive weapon in his hands snapped Jason's gaze cleanly into place.
A child, and yet he's carrying a staff that looks far bigger and heavier than anything of mine. And every carving on it is so sharp it almost makes you dizzy — it looks sturdier than my own weapon. Remarkable.
In this age there was no such thing as a mace; clubs existed instead, so the curiosity was natural enough. What drew real admiration, though, was the sheer finish of a weapon engraved with the twelve symbols of the Twelve Olympians. Even from a distance it was clearly a masterpiece — a work of Hephaestus, no less.
"Hey! Those people over there — does anyone know who they are?"
"Pardon?"
"No, sir."
"First time I've seen them."
Apparently they were not guests of any of Jason's acquaintances; every head shook. A pretty heroine paired with a kid playing priest — the combination drew plenty of stares, yet the way they claimed a place without flinching was more than enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the heroes and champions here. And the woman's gear was every bit as fine as the boy's weapon, so he was certain they had to be descendants of some famous hero.
There's still time. Maybe I should go speak to them.
In the end curiosity won, and Jason started toward the pair to strike up a conversation. The soldiers close to him trotted after him in a gaggle — and without the least sense of their own place, they started spouting nonsense about how, if these two turned out to be beggars dressed up to look the part, they would drive them off at once.
To say that after looking at them… Even a blind man who had stared Apollo full in the face wouldn't say such a thing… That's the thinking of ordinary people who have never been chosen by anyone…
Jason could not quite hide his inward disappointment, yet the soldier who had spoken was thoroughly pleased with himself. He was convinced beyond doubt that the two of them were beggars who had claimed a hero's name just to cadge a free meal.
"No need to dirty the hands of the man who'll be king soon! I'll go right over there this very— second! And tell them to clear out of here at once! Hahahaha!"
And without being asked, the thick-headed soldier charged confidently out ahead of Jason. He had clearly meant to score points with the future king of Iolcos — but it was a thoroughly poor choice. Every true hero present already expected the man who had rushed forward to make a thorough fool of himself.
"…What should we do?"
"Leave him. I have no desire to stick my nose in and end up wearing the shame myself."
Jason rubbed his chin and said it was just as well, that they might as well confirm whether those two truly belonged in this company. He sat a little way off with the soldier who had stayed with him, and listened in on the conversation.