Argos (11 page)

A month passed. Odysseus and his family were invited to the wedding of a prominent villager on the other end of the island, a day's travel away.

For short trips, Telemachus would sit before Penelope on a horse, his mother clinging tightly to his small, restless body. I knew that he enjoyed these outings but was only good for an hour or so before he wanted to get down. Penelope decided that the wedding venue was too distant for Telemachus to sit still and organized a small wagon for him, drawn by a donkey.

Telemachus' nurse, Eureklya, came to accompany the small boy and stop him from crawling out of the wagon at every opportunity. With us went some palace guards and two of Odysseus' friends. Much to Odysseus' disgust, Eumaeus had
made his excuses, explaining that with all of Odysseus' “little outings” that he was expected to attend, he was getting little actual swine herding done. He was chief swineherd after all, expected to supervise all the other swineherds in Odysseus' employ.

Odysseus had tried to persuade Eumaeus many times to take up the post of “chief advisor, companion, and friend,” but Eumaeus refused each time. I have always liked Eumaeus. He is a proud, noble man, and incredibly loyal.

Finally, we set off, Penelope and Odysseus riding at the head of our small parade. I was torn between trotting next to Odysseus and playing with Telemachus. I managed to do both, spending some time with Telemachus in the wagon before darting to the head of the column again. We had to stop several times because Telemachus insisted on investigating several things that caught his eye.

He had started saying a few words but most of what he said was nonsense. Still, I usually understood what he wanted and fetched objects for him rather than delay our arrival even further.

Eventually, we arrived in the village to find the pre-wedding celebrations already in full swing.

Weddings are splendid affairs. There's usually a great deal of quality food and lots of young children running around, keen to win the favor of a dog with delicious treats. My stomach was already full and round by the time the couple exchanged their vows.

Odysseus and Penelope took their places at the head table next to the newly wedded couple while I found my place at their feet. Speeches were made; voices were raised in toasts and cheers.
Odysseus spoke briefly, congratulating the man on finding such a beautiful wife, exchanging a loving glance with Penelope afterward. I have noticed that weddings seem to have that effect on couples.

I became drowsy, bloated as I was by all the pre-wedding feasting, but still managed to rouse myself when it was announced that the true feast was finally about to begin. I poked my head out from beneath the table to observe the arrival of a whole roasted boar. It was set before the head table and Odysseus was asked to honor the couple by carving it.

He was just about to do so when I noticed the arrival of a strange figure. It was the shining youth with golden hair who had tried to stab Telemachus in his cot.

My hackles rose and I emitted a long, low growl. Above me, Penelope patted me on the head and commanded me to silence. When I attempted to move from under the table, she grabbed my collar firmly for fear that I would interrupt Odysseus.

Strangely, no one else seemed to be aware of this intruder. He wandered amongst the assembled guests, passing unheeded until he was standing next to Odysseus. If Odysseus knew he was there, he certainly gave no indication.

I growled again and Penelope jerked my collar. The fur rose on the back of my neck as the youthful figure extended one slender arm and lightly touched the roasted boar. Whatever he had done smelt of corruption, of wrongness. Glancing in my direction, our eyes met, locked. He smiled at me and then simply disappeared.

I cast around for him, but he was gone. What he had done to the meat, however, remained a mystery.

Odysseus' role in carving the meat was a token one. Once he had cut a few slices, a servant took over and Odysseus resumed his seat. As tradition dictated, the guests of honor as well as the bride and groom were served first. Above me, the presence of the meat began to make me nauseous. It smelt of disease and sickness. I knew that to eat it was to die.

You may think it is odd that I couldn't smell the poison on the meat offered by Amycus but I could smell this. This was different. It was no poison. And it was so strong that even the air seemed altered by it. A stench so thick it could be cut by a sword. I was amazed that none of the humans noticed.

I shook myself loose from Penelope and jumped onto the table, just in time to intercept Odysseus as he was about to stuff a mouthful of roasted boar into his mouth. I knocked his hand away and the meat fell to the ground. Just to be sure, I flipped the plates of both Penelope and Odysseus with my paws, and they too, fell to the ground.

I could tell that Odysseus was stunned. Shocked. Embarrassed. His great dog, Argos, had embarrassed him by being so greedy and disobedient as to attempt to take food from his own master. Odysseus sat unmoving for a moment and then he suddenly moved, grabbing me roughly by my collar. I knew his intent straightaway. I had dishonored him. In exchange, he would do the same to me. No doubt I would be tied to the cart and left there for the duration of the wedding feast. I glumly imagined my future unfolding before me. No longer would I be welcome to sleep outside his room or be hand fed tasty scraps from the royal table. Worse, I would no longer be able to accompany my
master on his hunts. I felt miserable and disloyal. I wish I could have crept into a hole and died there. But it was worth it. Even though Odysseus didn't know it, I had just saved his life and that of Penelope's.

Odysseus dragged me away. I did not dare struggle, sensing Odysseus' barely contained fury.

Suddenly, a great tumult broke out behind us. I heard choking noises. Odysseus turned and I with him.

“Odysseus, help!” screamed Penelope.

Both the bride and groom had turned green and were holding their throats. Penelope was trying to save the bride but she appeared to be failing. Releasing me, Odysseus leapt the table in one great bound and attempted to help the choking groom. He lifted the man from his feet with his burly arms and squeezed, trying to dislodge the meat. When this didn't work, he laid the man on the table and thrust one of his thick fingers down the struggling groom's throat.

Both Penelope and Odysseus' efforts were in vain. In front of the horrified onlookers, both the bride and groom choked to death, their bodies immediately swelling, taking on a horrible green tinge. There was nothing anyone could do. The gods had decreed that they were to die and so it was.

Death had come calling at this wedding but he had found the wrong target. The bride and groom were just unfortunate to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The meat had been meant for another. For one man: my master. But why would the gods—or at least one of the gods—try to kill Odysseus?

“A
nd how did you feel, Argos, about all these attempts on your master's life?” asks Cerberus.

I rouse myself from the past and sit on my haunches, scratching an imaginary flea with one of my hind legs.

“Angry,” I say at last. “I still feel angry now. Angry with the gods. How could they play with my master and his family the way they did?”

“I think you are wise to discuss this only with me, Argos,” says Cerberus. “Many of the gods would not like your tone.”

“I don't care much for that,” I say. “What can the gods do to me now that hasn't already been done?”

“Don't underestimate them, Argos,” says Cerberus. “The gods still have a role to play in your life. The warp and weft of your life has not been fully woven just yet. Be careful what you say. Down
here, there is still at least one god who can hear your complaints.”

“Do you mean yourself?” I ask sharply. “Are you threatening me?”

The two heads adjacent to Cerberus' central head snarl. “No, I am not threatening you. I am warning you. And no, I am not referring to myself, even though my father was the mighty Titan, Typhon. I speak of my master, Hades.”

“Oh,” I say, slightly subdued. Cerberus is right. Hades is not to be trifled with, especially in his own domain.

“And remember,” says Cerberus, “that in the world above, your body draws breath yet. Your master still has need of your courage.”

“But how do you expect me to feel?” I ask. “How would you feel if your master was threatened by some force almost beyond your ability to combat?”

Cerberus is silent for a moment, considering. “I would feel exactly as you do,” he admits finally.

“Well then,” I say smugly.

Cerberus barks loudly. I know he is laughing. “That is why you are here, Argos. You and I are more alike than you can imagine. I understand your frustrations and your anger. If you didn't feel the way you do, I would be disappointed.”

“So this is all a test then?” I ask.

Cerberus shrugs his massive shoulders, an awkward movement for a dog. “Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't. I know one thing for certain though.”

“And what is that?” I ask.

“I'm glad I brought you here,” says Cerberus. “Your story is a
fascinating one. Would you like to continue?”

“Why not?” I say, lying down on my belly once more. It's not like I've got anything better to do. In the world above, my body is slowly dying. Telling Cerberus my life story is far more preferable.

Our return trip to the palace was nothing like the journey to the village. No one spoke. Doom hung in the air and spirits were low. It is a terrible thing to attend a joyous occasion such as a wedding and to have it end in tragedy.

We made slow progress. While Odysseus was keen to get as far away from the scene of the tragedy as possible, he was also in no hurry to return to the palace. He decided to make camp under the open sky, hoping the fresh air would lift morale.

Later that night, with Penelope and Telemachus curled up safely together in the wagon under the watchful gaze of Odysseus' guards, he and I sat next to the fire. His hand rested on my neck and I knew that everything would be all right between us.

“I'm sorry, Argos,” he said, his eyes full of sorrow. To show I understood, I licked his hand gently. “I should never have doubted you. I realize now that you always act with good cause. You saved my life. Again. No man is luckier than I to have such a dog.”

I sighed with pleasure at his words.

Odysseus looked into the fire, lost in thought, trying to unravel the puzzle that had been set before him.

My ears pricked. Something had changed. I could no longer hear the familiar night sounds. Around us, the landscape was completely silent. Not even the wind stirred. Odysseus did not seem to notice but I sat more upright, ready to defend my master. I also noticed that the guards had disappeared.

“What is it, boy?” asked Odysseus, becoming aware of my change in posture. “Is there someone out there?” He sprang to his feet and reached for his sword.

“There certainly is,” said a feminine voice. “And there is no need for your sword, great Odysseus.”

A woman stepped into the firelight. It was the tall gray-eyed woman that had carried me into Odysseus' bed when I was just a pup.

Odysseus' whole demeanor immediately changed. He bowed his head, which I thought was highly unusual. Odysseus bowed to no man. Or woman for that matter. I realized then that he knew who this woman was. Perhaps, like me, he had met her before.

“Athena, Goddess,” said Odysseus humbly. “To what do I owe this great honor?”

Realization struck me like a lightning bolt hurled by Zeus himself. How could I have been so stupid? Of course she was a goddess. Who else? This explained a great many things.

“Come, Odysseus, sit again with your dog, Argos. I will join you by the fire. We have many things to discuss.”

She knew my name? Strange how such a great goddess would
take an interest in someone so insignificant.

Odysseus placed his sword on the ground and sat crossed-legged before the fire. Athena, with unearthly grace, was suddenly next to me so that I sat between them. She placed a hand on my neck much like Odysseus had been doing moments before. I felt a rush of pleasure at her touch.