Jason plunged his great firm spear into her belly
and blood came rushing out, along with maidenly screams.
The valiant warrior deftly avoided the beast’s deadly stinger,
and yanked the ashwood shaft free.
His comrades cheered him on
though even Orpheus, untried in battle, could tell
that he had only managed to land a glancing blow.
The Typhonic scorpion, protector of Andros isle,
larger around than even the largest of the Minyans,
continued to lurch and shudder and whip its tail menacingly,
forcing them to keep a wary distance from her.
Orpheus made a couple jabbing motions with his sword
to keep up appearances but prayed to Bendis the Huntress
that the monster took no notice of him.
Until, that is, the scorpion flung Askalaphos like a rag-doll
and bore down on Medeia, who was trying to mix a poison
potent enough to slay her.
A furor took hold of the singer and he rushed at his foe
like a bear jolted from slumber, swinging his sword madly overhead.
Later, when Orpheus came back to himself,
he was sitting beneath a tree, bandage over one eye
and covered in scorpion gore.
Jason clapped him on the shoulder and said,
“Little man, I never would have brought you along with us
had the prophet Cheiron not foretold
that our successful completion of this quest depended on you.
Already you appeased the Nymphs of the West
and stopped the Siren song that rouses a longing for death in men,
and now you’ve slain this monster and preserved, unharmed, my wife.
I thank you, dear friend, and owe you an immense debt of gratitude.”
Medeia, then, took Orpheus’ hand in hers and kissed his palm.
He enjoyed the touch of her soft, full lips
and the way her woolly hair felt as it brushed his skin,
but most of all he admired the contrast of her Kolchian copper against him.
“May the Gods who rule widely smile upon you,
Orpheus my shipmate, and grant you a woman as fine as mine.”
