Argos (14 page)

As a king-in-waiting, he was expected to have certain skills. Oratory was one of the more important. He had a tutor who
worked with him for an hour a day, honing his ability to hold a conversation or conduct a reasoned debate. I always accompanied him despite the initial protests of the tutor. After a few lessons, the tutor gave up trying to kick me out and resigned himself to my presence. I liked going. If by some miraculous chance I learnt how to speak, the lessons would come in useful.

The tutor often focused on logical thinking, something that Odysseus had excelled in. Unlike Odysseus, Telemachus had a shy, retiring nature and was awkward and uncomfortable speaking in public. The tutor, however, insisted that with time and practice, Telemachus had the makings of an excellent orator. The key was to consider all the facts and compose a response in your head before speaking. Easier said than done. Even though I sometimes wish for the power of speech, I know that it can be a curse. There are many times when I count myself lucky that I was born a dog. Displaying my emotions and thoughts in a physical manner has always been a simple affair. Humans have a much harder time of it.

Telemachus had a separate tutor for geography and navigation using the stars. As a result, many of our lessons had to be conducted in the evenings. Telemachus enjoyed these lessons the most, primarily because he finally learnt where Troy was.

One night, after the lesson had finished, Telemachus and I lay side by side under the stars—he on his back, me snuggled up against his warm body.

“If he does not return, I will find him myself,” he said, talking to me like he sometimes did when we were alone. “I know where he is now. I can get there using the stars. When I am old enough,
I will ask my mother's permission to go. Would you like to come too, Argos?”

I wagged my tail. Telemachus probably thought that my reaction was caused by the mention of my name. Little did he suspect that I knew exactly what he was talking about. His plan filled me with hope and lifted my spirits for a long time afterward.

Oratory, geography, and navigation weren't the only skills Telemachus needed to acquire. He also spent an hour a day in the gymnasium. Like his father, he was an accomplished athlete. Wrestling in particular appealed to him and he had both the build and the ability to be one of the greats. I enjoyed watching him but I had to resist the urge to jump in and help him at times. Not that he needed my help but I felt very protective and didn't like it when the other boys were rough with him.

Generally free from midday to early evening, Telemachus preferred to spend this time alone. He wasn't exactly alone though. I was his shadow. The two of us were familiar sights in Ithaca, roaming the fields and rocky cliffs, climbing mountains and exploring beaches.

On one such adventure, we became lost. Ithaca is not a huge island although it is larger than many. You could sail around it in less than a day. Following the coastline on horseback might take three. But the interior of Ithaca was rugged and mountainous, with treacherous caverns and pits eager to swallow the unwary. Not only that, but once in the mountains, the scenery became monotonous. One rocky outcropping looked much like the next. It was easy to become disorientated. I had even known Odysseus to lose his bearings once.

Provided that it wasn't night with the stars shrouded by clouds, all a wayward soul had to do was to climb to the highest peak and look for the great harbor in order to get his bearings. This was the massive harbor where all ships arrived and left. For us, it was even easier. The palace overlooked the harbor. Once we knew where the harbor was, finding the palace was a simple matter.

On that day, we still had several hours before night fell. Unconcerned, Telemachus took his time, climbing carefully, following the goat tracks worn into the rocky hillside. Born and raised in this environment, I was sure-footed as any goat and kept up with him easily.

We were still climbing, Telemachus leading the way, when three goats appeared suddenly on the path before us. The track was narrow and the goats, stupid creatures that they are, could not turn. In a panic, they charged directly for us. In any other situation, I am more than a match for any goat. In fact, I'd take my chances with a whole herd of them and still emerge victorious. Not that defeating a herd of goats is anything to boast about.

Clearly agitated, the lead goat lowered his head and charged at Telemachus. They probably weighed the same amount and Telemachus was a skilled wrestler but the goat had momentum and horns on its side. Telemachus warded it off with his arms but lost his footing and began sliding down the scree slope.

Savage instincts to attack the goats competed with my rational desire to help Telemachus. His slide had turned into a tumble and he was getting perilously close to a crevice.

Without further thought, I hurtled down after him, heedless
of my own safety, dislodging pebbles and larger stones in my haste. I reached him only moments before he would have toppled into the darkened crevice, fastening my jaws on his tunic.

Telemachus' relief was short-lived as the tunic started to rip. I tried to get better purchase on the cloth but it was useless. I couldn't open my mouth for fear that he would fall. For the first time in my life, I cursed my useless paws. Why couldn't I have had hands instead? Worse, the ground was shifting underneath me, slowly dragging me into the crevice too.

I did everything I could, but it simply wasn't enough. There was a terrible ripping sound and Telemachus, his face a mask of horror, slowly toppled into the crevice. I sat howling my loss when a large displaced rock struck me with bone-shaking force and knocked me off my feet.

I fell into darkness.

W
hen I finally regained consciousness, I was thoroughly disorientated and frightened. All around me was darkness. My sides hurt. I wasn't sure at first how I had come to be here. Then I heard a groan nearby. The familiar sound snapped me back to reality and I remembered what had happened. It was Telemachus and he was in pain. I barked to let him know where I was.

My eyes, much better in the dark than humans, slowly became accustomed to the gloom. Far, far above, I could see the opening to the crevice and daylight. I cast around for Telemachus. He was lying a few paces away from me, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Naked bone gleamed in the pale light from above. He appeared dazed and his eyes were barely open. Blood was streaming down his face from a nasty gash on his forehead.

I scrabbled over the rocks toward him, wincing in pain. It was an effort not to whimper but I didn't want to further distress Telemachus. I nuzzled his face, careful not to stand on his broken leg and he grabbed me immediately, holding me close. “Argos,” he sobbed. “Argos, are you all right?”

I felt a rush of warmth at his concern. He must have been in a great deal of pain but his first thoughts were of me. I licked his face to show him I was, even though it was a lie. At least one of my ribs felt broken.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Using me as a prop, he tried to stand but screamed as soon as he moved his broken leg and sank back to the ground. I knew with absolute certainty there was no way he could climb out of the crevice. We were trapped.

I suddenly thought of the Goddess Athena. Her image just popped into my head, unbidden. I shook my head to clear it. The goddess wouldn't help me, even for the sake of Telemachus. She only favored those who helped themselves through wit, innovation, and clever thinking. She certainly wouldn't help a dog stuck down a crevice.

Then my nose picked up a familiar salty aroma of the sea. But why would I smell it in here? The sea was a fair distance from where we had fallen. I broke away from Telemachus and went to investigate.

My nose, more sensitive than any other dog's, led me to a narrow fissure in the rock, just large enough for me to squeeze through. The smell of salt was even stronger in that direction.

Ithaca is riddled with caves, many opening onto sandy
beaches or rocky shores. Telemachus and I had explored a great many of them but had never had the courage to explore any deeper than a hundred or so paces without a torch. I realized that these caves went deeper into the rock of Ithaca than anyone imagined. This fissure was our way out. It must lead to the sea. Sudden excitement filled me but was immediately overwhelmed by doubt. Telemachus was in no condition to move. Even if he could, there was no way he could fit through the fissure. I would have to leave him while I escaped this pit of darkness and found help. Experimentally, I poked my head through. I pushed a bit further and then a bit further still. I wanted to howl with the pain as the rocky walls scraped against my injured ribs. But then, all of a sudden, the fissure widened and I was able to turn around.

I made my painful way back to Telemachus. How could I explain to Telemachus without words that I had found a way out? That I would bring people to help lift him out of this crevice?

But I had worried unnecessarily. By the time I returned he had slipped back into unconsciousness.

Feeling like the most disloyal of friends but knowing that my abandonment was necessary, I slunk away. I endured the initial pain of the narrow fissure again and then enjoyed several long stretches of open cave. It was very dark. Slight cracks in the rock above provided only the barest illumination. I knew that a normal dog might have struggled with this lack of light but I coped. I suspect it might have been another of Athena's gifts.

It was not all easy going. The fissure narrowed again, angling steeply downward, and I had to drag my way through, scrambling desperately with my paws. The pain was almost intolerable
and at times, I howled in agony. But I persisted. I had to. For Telemachus' sake and for Penelope. And especially for Odysseus. I had promised I would look after his family and only death would stop me doing my duty. Besides, I loved Telemachus and hated to see him in pain.

I lost track of time but knew that I had to rush. If I was too slow, Telemachus might bleed to death before he could be rescued.

I pushed onward, constantly descending, even though I felt my body weakening, and was rewarded with a sliver of light directly before me. To my mind, that meant it lead out to the shore. I hastened to the light and thrust my head out.

The sight before me filled me with dismay. The rock opened out on to the shore all right—it just wasn't at sea level. There were sheer cliffs on either side. Down was no better and the fall into the ocean could well kill me from this height. I considered going back but I knew that that was pointless. Even in the darkness, I was confident that I had not missed a side passage.

So this was it then. Go back and let Telemachus die in the cold dark or jump and risk my own death.

It wasn't really a choice.

I took a deep breath and leapt into nothingness. My paws flailed wildly as I hurtled toward the shifting waves beneath me. I must have made an interesting sight to anyone fortunate enough to see me but my graceless fall toward the waves was witnessed only by a couple of startled gulls.

The water felt as yielding as a rock wall. With the breath knocked out of my lungs, I struggled furiously even as I plunged
into the depths. I kicked with desperate strength, but I had no way of knowing which way was up. I desperately wanted to breathe. I wanted to live. If I died, so too would Telemachus. If I died, I would never see my master again.

With my lungs about to explode, I reached the surface and gasped as life-giving air poured into me. Of course, it was only then I realized that I couldn't really swim. It is a common misconception amongst humans that dogs can swim. Dog paddling is not really swimming. It's a temporary solution to stop your head from slipping beneath the waves. I had been in the water many times before, of course. Odysseus and Telemachus had thrown sticks for me to retrieve. But the sticks were never far from shore and once I had them, I returned immediately. I did not enjoy the sensation of nothingness beneath me.

But I began swimming anyway. Exhausted and injured, I could not keep this up for long and even though the shore was not far distant, it was sheer and rocky. There was no place for me to clamber up to safety.

I couldn't stop though. Wouldn't stop. I had to try. I paddled and paddled but it wasn't enough. My strength was draining rapidly. I had already swallowed a great deal of water. My head began to sink beneath the waves and despair filled me as I realized that I had failed Telemachus. I had failed Odysseus. It was the most horrible sensation of my life.

I sank down further. With the last of my consciousness, I felt something tug beneath me and then all of a sudden, there was a great rush of movement.

Probably a shark, I thought dismally. At least I wouldn't be
alive to feel them feasting on me.

It was not a comforting thought.

I braced myself for the initial rush of agony before darkness claimed me; a brief spark of pain as the shark's teeth did their grisly work—but I was wrong.