Argos (10 page)

“I see that you have not departed yet,” commented Odysseus. He had Elatus' club in his lap, one of his huge hands gripped around the handle. The implied threat was undeniable. “I believe we have already said everything that needed to be said.”

“That was before your dog savaged my son,” Meges growled, glaring openly at me.

“I demand that your dog be killed,” said Elatus. He appeared subdued and his forearm was wrapped in linen bandages. Unfortunately, his injury hadn't affected his tongue.

“Demand?” said Odysseus, his voice rising. “You demand in
my
hall?”

“Well … well, at the very least he should be punished,” said Elatus more meekly.

“Or you should provide compensation for my son's injury while under your protection,” said Meges. “The simple wager we made over the dogs would suffice.”

Odysseus nodded. “Perhaps. First, I would like to hear Elatus' version of the story. What happened, Prince Elatus?”

“I went to congratulate your dog and bid him farewell. He is a magnificent animal and I wanted to see him one more time. I tried to pat him and he attacked me.”

“And that is what happened, is it?” asked Odysseus mildly. “Regardless of the fact that Argos will not attack unless I command it or he is attacked first.”

“Of course it is,” barked Meges. “You doubt the word of my son?”

“I never said that,” said Odysseus. “I was merely trying to ascertain the facts.” He held up the club. “Can you explain this, Prince Elatus?”

Elatus blanched but, like most accomplished liars, he rallied quickly. “It's a club,” he said. “Never seen it before.”

“Interesting,” said Odysseus. “Because I found it lying next to you. Argos also has a bloody bruise on his head consistent with being hit on the head with a club. Coincidence or something else?”

“It's not mine,” replied Elatus hotly. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“What about this then?” said Odysseus, throwing the toy dog to Meges. The king of Doulikhion examined the object. His confusion was obvious. He showed it to Elatus who shrugged.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Meges. “What has a child's toy got to do with your dog biting my son? My son is not on trial here. You place your trust in a dog rather than the word of a prince? The only matter to settle is the consequences of Argos injuring my son. Nothing more.”

“Well then,” said Odysseus, “I will deal with Argos and then the matter will be settled. Is that all?”

“Is this the kind of justice and hospitality you offer to all your fellow kings, Lord Odysseus?” asked Meges, his voice rich with contempt.

“No, I reserve this for only the special ones,” said Odysseus. A smile played at the corner of his mouth. “And I trust my dog
more than any man. Save for perhaps Eumaeus here.”

“The other kings will hear of my treatment,” said Meges through gritted teeth. “And you can forget about our alliance. Come, Elatus. We are leaving.”

“Safe journey,” said Odysseus, his face blank. “And give my regards to my fellow kings.”

Meges glared at Odysseus but said nothing. He whirled and, dragging Elatus with him, stormed out of the great hall.

“Well,” said Eumaeus, blowing out his cheeks. “That went well.”

If Meges was angry, he would've been furious if he'd seen how Odysseus “dealt” with me. My “punishment” was more boar meat.

Odysseus had it brought to the throne room. We were alone save for Eumaeus. My head still hurt but Odysseus had the healer look at me and bathe the wound. It was nothing more than an ugly bruise—certainly not enough to dampen my appetite.

“So what do you think happened, my lord?” asked Eumaeus.

“Elatus wanted his revenge and tried to kill Argos,” replied Odysseus.

“It's that simple?” asked Eumaeus. “Surely there was more to it than that?”

“Is that what you think, Eumaeus?”

Eumaeus seemed to consider for a moment. “No. You're right, my lord. I would expect little else from a boy like Elatus. Spoiled brat.”

“Then why did you ask, my friend?” asked Odysseus, smiling.

“Because with you, nothing is simple. There are always plots within plots. Schemes upon schemes. It's hard to keep up.”

Odysseus nodded. “I understand. You are just a simple swineherd, after all.”

Eumaeus bellowed with laughter at that. “So, you're still one king short of an alliance,” he said eventually, wiping a tear out of his eye. “What do you plan to do about that?”

Odysseus sighed. “I guess I'll have to find another king.”

“You do that,” said Eumaeus. “Just make sure Argos doesn't bite his son this time.”

If I had hoped that palace life would once again become peaceful, I was mistaken. Odysseus' life was never mundane, never boring. I guess that was why he was favored by the gods. Other men's lives can be marked by repetition. They get up, do a day's work, come home, kiss their wives and children, and go to bed. Repeat.

But not so Odysseus. There was always an adventure on the horizon, always something happening that was extraordinary. It made perfect sense to me. Odysseus was an extraordinary man.

One early morning, Odysseus and I were strolling through
the main hall. Suddenly, he stopped so quickly that I ran into the backs of his legs. I followed his gaze. His attention was drawn towards the far wall, a wall where his favorite weapons were displayed for all to see. His great bow and quiver of arrows were there—the bow so powerful, only he could string it. His shield was there. But the place where his spear normally dwelt was inexplicably empty.

I saw Odysseus frown. As most wise men do, he went to consult with his wife.

“Penelope, have you seen my favorite spear? The one I use in battle. It was in the main hall.”

Penelope looked up from her weaving and smiled. “No, my husband. Perhaps you took it out hunting and misplaced it.”

Odysseus shook his head, unconvinced. Both he and I knew that he would never use that spear for such a common use as hunting. That spear was reserved for only one type of animal—one with two legs.

Odysseus roused his household, commanding his servants to look. He even enlisted Eumaeus' aid. The spear was still not found. Finally, one of the servants remembered a trader wanting to see Odysseus with the promise of wealth and trade. The servant had left him alone in the hall for a few moments in order to summon Odysseus, who was out hunting at the time. When the servant returned to the hall to tell the stranger, he found that the trader had departed.

The servant had thought nothing of it at the time and had returned to his duties.

“Tell me, Eumaeus,” said Odysseus upon hearing this news,
“have any ships left the island since then?”

“I don't think so, my lord,” said Eumaeus. “But a few are due to depart this day. This morning in fact.”

“Then the thief is still on the island,” said Odysseus with absolute certainty. “He'll be down near the beach waiting to depart. Eumaeus, gather some men and horses and meet me outside.”

Filled with a strange sense of urgency, I knew that Odysseus would somehow be too late. I had to take matters into my own paws.

I examined the wall where the spear had hung. There was a mark where someone had brushed against it, the telltale mark of cold stone making contact with bare skin. I could smell salt and the acrid taint of sweat. I had hoped to discover a better clue—perhaps a small item accidentally dropped but that would have been both too convenient and unlikely.

The stench of stale sweat lay heavy around my muzzle, however. It would be a challenge but I believed my senses were up to it. All I had to do was get down to the beach and my nose would do the rest.

I raced out of the main doors, past the gathering men and horses. Odysseus shouted at my back but I ignored him. It was one of the few times in my life that I had not obeyed him and it pained me. It goes against the nature of dogs to be anything other than obedient this but in this case, it was necessary.

I checked the beach first. There were four ships pulled up onto the sand, all readying for departure. Nose to the sand, I sniffed around but could detect no traces of the thief. I checked
the nearby traders and passengers too but was disappointed. The gods only knew what they made of this—a dog frantically darting about the ships and people, sniffing furiously. Most were too startled to complain.

I dashed into the small port town nestled just above the beach. It was mostly stone warehouses and other buildings catering to the needs of sailors and the ships that brought them.

I knew with sudden certainty where to look. There was only one tavern at the port. It was the obvious place. The thief would not be trying to sell the spear on the island—that would have been idiocy. I sensed that a man like this—a lowlife—nervous and alone, would need a drink to fortify his courage.

The tavern was a ramshackle building, composed mostly of stone cobbled together from more ancient structures, salvage from wrecked ships, and drift wood found lying on the beach. I pushed through the stained and torn goatskin covering the doorway.

All eyes turned toward me. There were at least a score of men inside. Some smiled but most looked away immediately without interest. A dog in a tavern such as this was not an unusual sight. Several men were sitting at tables surrounded by a wide variety of mixing bowls, jugs, and little cups. I raised my nose, sniffed the air, and caught the scent almost immediately.

It emanated from a small, unshaven man drinking by himself. Propped up against the table was a long, thin object wrapped in cloth. I didn't have to be a scholar to know what it was.

Without hesitation, I trotted toward the man. His eyes rested on me for a moment but he paid me no further heed and returned
to his drinking. I contemplated biting him but knew this would just complicate matters. Any sort of disturbance would be met with kicks and a swift exit from the premises.

Instead, I turned my head and grabbed the spear in my jaws. I underestimated the weight of it though. I knew that Odysseus was a strong man but his spear was exceptionally heavy. While other men could lift it, I doubted whether they would able to wield it effectively. This thief was indeed bold to risk leaving the palace with such a heavy prize.

The thief cried out in surprise and made a lunge for it but I was too quick. Struggling, I tilted my jaws horizontally and knocked one of the nearby drinkers in the room a solid blow on the head. He spilled his drink and that of his neighbors.

Then all Hades broke loose. Fists flew, wine spilt, and mixing bowls and anything else convenient to hand were overturned and used as makeshift weapons.

Amidst this chaos, I hurtled toward the door, knocking over several other men along with one of the bench seats and two tables. My escape came to abrupt halt when I slammed into the doorway. The spear was far too long. Even as I was turning my head again, I felt someone grab at my collar. I smelt the thief.

Dragging him with me, I forced myself through the doorway and out onto the sandy path outside. The thief and I fell together in a jumbled mix of limbs, bodies, and spear. We jostled for a moment, trying to regain our footing until I felt the thief freeze above me. A cluster of armed men stood before us.

“Well,” said Odysseus, smiling grimly. “It seems like Argos wants my spear back.”

They dragged the thief back to the palace and under interrogation, confessed that King Meges had put him up to it.

Rather than punish the thief, Odysseus decided to use him instead. He was loaded onto the next ship with a message. The thief was instructed to tell Meges that “if he wanted Odysseus' spear so badly, perhaps he would like to personally pry the weapon from Odysseus' grasp.”

My master had directly challenged Meges. The rival king could not ignore the insult to his honor and reputation. At some point, there had to be a reckoning.