This is a chapter of Once Upon A Time: Children’s Stories From The Classics by Blanche Winder.
In that far country to which Jason and his band of heroes set off in their great ship with its fifty oars lived a mighty king and his beautiful daughter, Medea. This princess was dark-haired and dark-browed, and her wonderful eyes were as full of mystery as the peat pools which lie black and still on mountain moors. She knew many, many secrets that the earth hid from other people; and she would go fearlessly, at night, through the Enchanted Glade where the golden fleece gave out its mysterious light among the boughs of the oak, and the dragon swayed its high enormous head to and fro between the dim trees and the silver stars.
In the shadowy forests, Medea would wander quite alone, her little white feet without sandals, her long hair streaming about her like a veil. There, in the silence of the woods, she would stand and lift her arms up to the stars, singing softly to the spirits who lived among them. Then she would turn around three times, and, stooping to the stream at her feet, throw water from it, three times, over her head. Last of all, she would give three long, low cries, weird and plaintive, like an owl that called to its mate through the night.
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Down then, from the stars, would drop a bright car, drawn by a dragon, sparkling with little arrows of flame. Medea would spring into this fairy chariot, and the dragon would fly with her to the tops of the high mountains, where she would gather all kinds of rare flowers and herbs. These she would carry to the palace, and mix together in a golden cauldron, singing low enchantments all the time. The perfumed oils that were so made, she would pour carefully into little pots and jars; and never were there any ointments more full of sorcery than those made by Princess Medea.
Lovely and clever as she was, she would not marry; for she had once seen Jason in a dream, and he seemed to her the only man that she could ever love. She knew that he would come someday to her father’s kingdom; and, sure enough, one bright morning the sails of the Argo appeared in the bay, the music of Orpheus floated over the water, and Prince Jason and his noble company stepped ashore.
Straight up the beach towards the palace they came, and were met by the king himself; for was not Jason, also, of royal blood? With the king came beautiful, dark-eyed Medea, eager and expectant. The king led his guests to his banqueting hall and set them down to eat and drink, asking questions all the time. They told him of the many adventures they had had on their journey — adventures almost too exciting for anyone to believe. Among other experiences, they had passed safely between two strange floating ice rocks which tried to crush them, but, closing together with a snap just as the vessel slipped from between them, had met with such force that they stuck together entirely. And stuck they remained ever afterward, which was a good thing for all the travelers who, later, passed that way. Jason explained, too, that they had been obliged to leave Heracles behind on an island, which he had refused to leave because a beautiful lad whom he loved had been stolen from him by the island nymphs and turned into a frog! Many other things Jason told the king before he began to talk of the object of his journey, and announced, boldly, that he and his companions had passed through all these perils for the purpose of winning and carrying away the golden fleece from the Enchanted Glade. Medea clasped her hands in excitement and admiration, but her father’s brows met in an angry frown.
“Win the golden fleece!” he thundered. “There are many tasks for anyone who would do that! Rash prince! Go back to your vessel, and tomorrow morning come and plow that stony field you see there, with my fire-breathing bulls!”
He rose from the banqueting table and stalked wrathfully to his chamber, while Jason, sad and disappointed, returned to his ship. Next morning he rose early and went ashore to see the sunrise, wondering if it would be for the last time. Then, lo and behold!, coming through the early rosy rays, he saw a slim, veiled figure, who stole to his side and gave him a little silver jar.
“Rub yourself all over with the sweet-smelling oil in the jar,” whispered a soft voice, “then the bulls can do you no harm!”
The slender, cloaked figure slipped away as hastily and silently as it had come, but Jason knew the voice had been that of the king’s daughter, Medea. He bathed in the sea, just as the sun began to warm the sparkling waves; then, opening the jar, rubbed himself all over with the perfumed ointment, and not only himself but his shield and sword as well. Then he set off for the palace once more.
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With the king and his courtiers —all of whom were very surprised at his return— Jason set off for the stables of the fire-breathing bulls. This stable was underground, and the bulls, set loose, rushed out of it much as if they were Hades’s horses themselves. Everybody fled but Jason, as the terrible animals pranced and bellowed, their golden hoofs flashing, their eyes blazing, and hundreds of tongues of fire shooting from their mouths. But Jason sprang fearlessly to meet them, laid his hand on the neck of the nearest, and spoke to it in a gentle voice. Those who were watching from a safe distance saw it pause; saw, too, the other bulls crowd around the hero with tossing horns. For a moment, both prince and bulls were hidden among the flames; but, when the smoke cleared, the onlookers, to their amazement, perceived that the bulls were already harnessed to the iron plow, and were drawing it across the stony field, fast as the wind, with Jason guiding them from behind.
He plowed the ground well and truly, with deep, straight furrows ready for seed. Then he drove the bulls back to their stables, and, as he stood, wiping his forehead, the king came forward. Smiling angrily, he handed the prince a helmet made of brass.
“There is your seed!” said he. “Sow it in the furrows you have made!”
Jason took the helmet, and what do you think was in it? A great quantity of dragons’ teeth! Dismay came into the hero’s eyes, for he knew what sort of a crop he might expect from seed like that.
However, he set to work, and strode off along the furrows, swinging his hand in a wide circle, as he sowed the dragons’ teeth. Immediately the teeth began to grow! But, instead of coming up as pretty green blades of corn, they sent up a crop of soldiers, armed with spears and shields, helmets and swords, who made a rush at Jason in a body, and prepared to kill him.
Jason sprang aside, seized a big stone, and threw it among them. It hit one of the soldiers on the head, and he, thinking it had been thrown by the man next to him, instantly returned the blow. This soldier, in his turn, attacked a third; and, in a few minutes, the whole army was fighting itself, in a wild tangle, until the soldiers had killed each other, and not one was left.
The king’s face was very sullen as he and his courtiers turned away. He spoke a last word to brave Jason, in a whisper like a hiss:
“Very good! Very good!” said he. “You can have the golden fleece — if you can get it!”
Jason’s friends, proud and thankful, surrounded their prince as he returned to his ship. That night Medea came to him once more.
“Let your companions make the ship ready for instant departure,” said she, “and come with me.”
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She took Jason’s hand and led him away up the dark beach, and as they went she sang. Low and sweet was her song as Jason walked softly by her side. Presently they came to the dark entrance of the Enchanted Glade and saw in the distance the golden fleece hanging on the oak tree, shining with a fairy light. Then into the sound of Medea’s song broke the dragon’s watchful hiss — and Jason saw its scales glittering here and there in the moonlight as it moved its coils silently about the tree. It was a terrible sight, but Medea went on singing and drew the prince onwards down the glade. There were no flowers or leaves upon the thickly growing trees, but the moon threw down little silver blossoms of light and made garlands about the tangled brake.
At last, the prince and princess reached the tree and met the gaze of the dragon in the moonshine. It was listening intently to Medea’s song. Still chanting that sweet lullaby, she opened one of her jeweled jars and sprinkled the scaly monster with delicate perfume, so that the thicket seemed to be full of the scent of mountain flowers. The dragon closed its eyes, and down from the tree slipped its great folds — down, down, down, till the huge serpent lay in motionless coils upon the ground. Then, at last, Medea stopped singing, and with her slender white fingers pointed Jason to the fleece.
He moved forward, placing his feet upon the very coils of the sleeping dragon as he reached eager hands towards the golden fleece, so beautiful, so shining, so mysterious, hanging above his head. Tearing it from its bough, he sprang back to Medea. Then, side by side, they sped through the thicket, down the ferny path of the Enchanted Glade, across the meadows, to the shore. Once on board the Argo, the sails were set and the crew bent to their oars. Away sped the good ship from the harbor, carrying with it the prince, the princess, and the Golden Fleece of the beautiful ram that had flown across the sea with that fair brother and sister so many, many years ago.
In this way Jason bore home the wonderful fleece, and, soon after he got there, his wicked uncle died miserably, and Jason gave the kingdom back to his own father.