Corinth by Susan Hawthone

Medea escaping from Corinth in a chariot pulled by serpents, public domain image

Dear Psappha,

Circe suggested I contact you if I were ever in need of assistance in these parts. I am in need. I don’t know where to turn, as a foreigner, I have few rights. The people here fear me, and I do not dissuade them. Better they fear me than take advantage of me.

I am in need because that hero whom I followed is making new alliances. The rewards of which he spoke that he promised me back in Colchis, have not appeared. And will not. I must be a greater fool than I had thought – to follow a man so easily duped. I should have seen it earlier. Circe was not fooled. She’d have turned him and his men into swine if I’d allowed it. I did not. She will have to wait for other callers to her isle.

He is planning to marry the daughter of Creon, a simple-minded girl with fewer wits than most of us. She is one of the new breed of women who do not follow the ways of the mother. She knows nothing of herb lore, or of glamour. But Jason is fooled, nevertheless. Or else he senses an opportunity to lord it over someone even more foolish than he.

She will regret her lack of knowledge. There is a plant that grows on a nearby hill, a vile plant, reserved for those who desire to strip you of your last. I shall strip him of everything. I cannot reveal my whole plan yet. I must wait until the dark of the moon to pick this plant. Then there is the preparation so that neither she nor anyone else will suspect my intentions. Only then can I carry out my plan. He will wish he had never seized this opportunity.

I will need a place of refuge afterwards. Can you think where I should go? Are there other women in these isles who think as we do?

I fear that our time is running short. I am plagued by dreams in which the order of the world is reversed, in which men rule by force. I wish I could believe that they are just the product of an anxious mind. I have learnt not to ignore such things. It’s a pity I didn’t learn these things before I left my homeland. Some of our ways there were strange, but not half so strange as the struttings and preenings I see among the men in these parts. Jason amongst them. They seem to think they are the gods’ gift to humanity.

I had thought better of him. But that was before. I had thought he loved me. Men can love if expediency wills it, but expediency always shifts. Now he needs her. Needs her land, her legitimacy. Just as he needed my secrets, my magic at an earlier time.

I have a passion to harm him, in ways that will be remembered for millennia. What makes him think he can double-cross me: He saw what happened to poor Apsyrtes – dismembered and scattered in the wake of our ship. What makes him think he is immortal? It’s this new philosophy that is spreading among them – they want to be immortal, like us, and they think they can do it through their children. But how could they? They don’t know the old ways. They don’t know the checks and halts.

I await your reply eagerly,

Medea

Notes

I wrote this story in 1986 and while it is a more straightforward piece than I would write now, it is clear that I was thinking about the way in which this story could play out with a different mythic angle. Medea is angry and at this stage is simply considering having revenge on the woman Jason has taken up with and for whom she has no respect. Patriarchal renditions of this story all put the blame on Medea and Jason is allowed to do whatever he wants and while eventually he is punished, that occurs only after he diminishes her.


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