Argos (15 page)

Your Master, Hades, did not come for me. I was not fated to die that day.

The gloom of the depths was replaced by hard sunlight as I emerged from the waves, spluttering and flailing weakly. I was dragged upward, finally deposited none too gently on a hard surface. Disorientated and weak, I somehow managed to stagger to my feet and retched, vomiting what seemed like half the sea from my sodden lungs. It was only then that I became aware of what lay directly beneath my paws. A fisherman's net, its thick cords instantly recognizable from my many trips to the beach. Through the strands, I could see sun bleached wooden planks.

“Now that's the strangest looking fish I have ever seen,” laughed a voice.

“You might be right there, Acacius,” said another male voice. “But didn't you say you once caught a Nereid?”

I raised my head weakly and was confronted by two burly fishermen, both weather beaten and dressed in ragged tunics.

“I did, Karpos. I did. I swear it by the gods,” said Acacius. “Just don't tell my wife.”

“I won't,” said Karpos, chuckling. “Knowing your wife, she'd blame me. Now, what are we going to do about this sea-dog?”

I stood silent and still, legs and body quivering with fatigue, listening as the two fishermen discussed my fate.

“He's a good looking fellow,” said Acacius. “Looks well fed. See the collar around his neck? Studded with bronze. That isn't the collar of a common dog.”

“Where did he come from?” asked Karpos, squinting at the cliffs looming nearby. “There's no beach around here.”

Acacius shrugged. “Maybe Poseidon sent him to us as a sign.” He strode over to me and bent down next to my shaking body. I noticed that he kept his face averted from my own, which was wise under the circumstances. Most dogs in life threatening situations are unpredictable. Even I had an urge to growl and snap as his hand reached up to grasp my collar.

“A sign that we should give up fishing perhaps?” asked Karpos. “If he was sending us a sign of his favor, he would've loaded our net with fish—proper fish. Fish we can eat. Not a half-drowned dog.”

“All is not lost,” said Acacius, examining my collar. “I've heard dog isn't half bad.”

Karpos joined his friend at my side. “That's a nice collar,” he commented. “Very nice. Too nice for a dog. Take the collar and dump the dog back in the sea. We might be able to get something for it at the market. If nothing else, it will keep your wife off your back.”

“Which makes me think that this isn't just a normal dog,” said Acacius thoughtfully. “Didn't Lord Odysseus have a dog?”

“He did,” said Karpos. “Big brute. They say it defeated a monster from Hades. It must be old now. Probably dead.”

If I could've shouted at them, I would have but as it was, I was barely capable of standing. I just hoped it wouldn't take them
too long to figure it out. I had encountered plenty of fishermen on Ithaca. Some were as dull as stone but I'd met many just as smart and capable as Eumaeus. I hoped these two fell into the latter category but so far, their conversation was hardly reassuring. Every moment that passed hastened Telemachus toward death.

“No,” said Acacius, shaking his head slowly. “He's still alive. I've seen him with Odysseus' boy.” He clicked his fingers. “Telemachus. That's his name!”

“The boy or the dog?” asked Karpos.

“The boy, stupid. I think the dog was called Argos.”

“Did he look like this dog?” asked Karpos skeptically. I understood his doubt. This bedraggled animal shivering before him was hardly an awe-inspiring sight.

“Maybe,” said Acacius. “This one is big but he looks a little smaller than I remember.”

“That's probably because his fur is wet,” commented Karpos.

“Do you think I'm stupid?” asked Acacius.

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” countered Karpos.

I had to do something otherwise the situation was likely to degenerate. I barked as loudly as I could, startling the two men into silence. Staggering to the railing, I raised my forelegs up onto it and barked in the direction I thought the palace was.

“I think he's trying to tell us something,” said Acacius.

“Yes. That he wants off this boat. Can't say I blame him,” said Karpos. “Probably doesn't like your smell.”

“No,” said Acacius, shaking his head in annoyance. “I think he's telling us where to go. Look, I think the chances of us
catching any decent fish today are about as likely as you marrying the high priestess at Delphi. Let's cut our losses, take this dog to the palace and show him to Odysseus' widow, Penelope. If it is Argos, we'll get ourselves a nice fat reward. If it isn't, we take him to the market, sell the collar and the dog if we can find a buyer. If no one wants the dog, he might be good for the pot. It'll make a nice change from fish.”

Karpos took a moment to consider this. I gathered from his rather pained expression that deep thought was proving difficult. Acacius was obviously the ideas man although he certainly wasn't likely to set the world alight with his dazzling wit either.

“All right,” Karpos agreed finally, sighing. “I just hope you're right.”

“No harm if I'm wrong,” said Acacius, looking in my direction. Even exhausted, I stubbornly refused to remove my paws from the railing in order to stress the urgency of my mission. Given that they both appeared to be only slightly more intelligent than the boat, I wasn't prepared to give them any opportunity to delay further.

It seemed to work. Both men set to work with a purpose, drawing up the anchor and raising the sail. It billowed out immediately, flapping angrily until secured tightly. The gods, it seemed, were smiling—the wind was on-shore and the small boat sprung forward eagerly, making steady progress toward the harbor entrance. We kept close to the cliffs—the boat far too tiny to risk open water—their hulking shapes only increasing my sense of urgency. Within their cold, dark depths, Telemachus lay dying.

I fretted and would've paced nervously but for my steadfast resolve to remain where I was. Sea spray stung my eyes and covered my face but I tried to ignore it, licking the saltiness from around my mouth.

The boat rode the waves clumsily. Each wave threatened to knock me overboard but I clung on with what little remained of my strength, my claws digging into the deeply weathered planks, carving little furrows into the wood.

Eventually, the entrance to the harbor came into view. I barked loudly in relief and then continued to bark, willing the men to drive the boat faster, defiant before the elements.

I could just make out the palace now, perched atop the cliff tops above the harbor. A silent but welcome sentinel. I focused my attention on that place, fearful that if I lost sight of it, it would be gone from me forever.

With what seemed like agonizing slowness, the boat finally neared the beach. I didn't wait for the sound of wood sliding against sand—I leapt into the water and paddled the last few paces, emerging bedraggled and somewhat unsteady onto the sand. Some of my strength had returned during the boat trip and I dashed up the beach, heading for the narrow track that I knew was the fastest way to the palace. There were other, wider roads to the palace, roads used by traders and visiting dignitaries but these were less direct routes. Haste was required now. I didn't care whether the two fishermen would follow me but I was confident that they would for fear of missing out on their anticipated reward.

I scurried up the track. My breath came in heavy pants, each
one causing excruciating pain to my damaged sides but I didn't care. Realizing that my pace had slowed, I renewed my efforts, desperate not to fail my friend. The palace gates reared up before me and my spirits soared. I raced for the main hall.

The gods, perhaps even Athena herself, seemed to favor me now. Eumaeus was in the process of dismounting from his horse before the doors of the main hall. Who better to understand or help me than Eumaeus?

Still running, I barked loudly, urgently, and Eumaeus turned his head in my direction. As I got nearer, I saw his welcoming smile falter as he took in my disheveled and agitated state.

“What is it, boy?” he asked, bending down to inspect me. His face betrayed his alarm when he examined my sides. “You're hurt. What happened, Argos? Where have you been? Where is Telemachus?”

I gave Eumaeus my most plaintive look and then forced myself away from his gentle hands, loping off in the direction Telemachus and I had initially taken.

I heard Eumaeus remount his horse behind me and the sound of hooves on hard stone. Relieved that he had recognized my urgency, I took off as I heard him shout to some nearby men to follow as quickly as possible.

As we raced out past the palace gates—myself leading, Eumaeus in close pursuit—we passed the two fishermen, their faces comical as they shouted at us but neither I nor Eumaeus had time for such distractions. Let them plead their case before Penelope and good luck to them. With Telemachus missing, she would have little time for their demands.

My strength was draining but I pressed on regardless, fueled only by a desire to help poor Telemachus. The journey became a blur. My vision threatened to go entirely as my body rebelled against such punishment. But I would not give up.

Somehow, I found myself on the same path where Telemachus and I had encountered the goats. The signs of our fall were obvious and Eumaeus, a fair tracker in his own right (although nothing compared to Odysseus), could clearly see where bodies had toppled off the path.

I scurried down the scree slope. Behind me, Eumaeus dismounted and followed as quickly as he dared. I stopped at the edge of the abyss, my sides heaving, each breath torturous, and waited for Eumaeus to catch up.

Breathing heavily, he appeared at my side. He bent down and peered cautiously over the edge.

“Is this what you wanted to show me, Argos?” he asked. “Is Telemachus down there? Has he fallen?”

I met his gaze and wagged my tail weakly. Eumaeus nodded, satisfied with my response.

“Telemachus!” he yelled down in the crevice. “Telemachus! Can you hear me?” Nothing. No sound emerged from the crevice. Eumaeus and I exchanged worried looks.

There was a commotion behind me. I turned my head in time to see two men from the palace making their cautious way down the scree slope.

Eumaeus examined the crevice thoughtfully, evidentially considering a climb down. I knew it was futile. No one could possibly make that descent.

Eumaeus quickly came to the same conclusion. “Go back to the palace,” he ordered the men. “Bring rope. Make all haste.”

I lay down at his feet as the men retreated the way they had come. I was exhausted. My sides ached. All I wanted to do was sleep but I could not allow myself to do so while Telemachus' fate still lay in the balance.

But my body had other ideas. I closed my eyes, promising myself that it was just for a moment. Darkness immediately claimed me.

I
awoke to find that my pain had not been banished by slumber. My sides still ached with a stifling pressure, making it difficult to draw breath. Lying on my side had not helped matters either. In fact, the weight of my body only exacerbated the pain of my injuries.

Some dogs are able to sleep on their backs, legs akimbo and twitching in the air. I've seen it myself. But I have never been willing to do so—able to, yes but not willing. I found the position undignified. Not only that, but it also looked incredibly vulnerable and I doubt humans enjoyed such a sight either. I wouldn't welcome seeing Odysseus or Telemachus exposing themselves in such a manner. And as for Penelope …

Such was my discomfort however, that I forced myself to roll over so that I was lying on my back. The pain immediately lessened so that I finally became aware of my surroundings. I
was in Telemachus' room, on a stuffed blanket next to his bed. I looked down and saw that my sides had been heavily wrapped with linen bandages.

It must have been early evening, judging by the lit oil lamps. In the dim light, I could see the tip of a small foot poking out from the side of the bed above me. Both my nose and my eyes told me it was my beloved Telemachus. A surge of relief washed over me. Telemachus had been rescued. He was here!

There were three other humans in the room—all familiar to me. Eumaeus, Penelope, and the healer—the same one who had aided me after the incident with the hare. I'm embarrassed to confess that I still had not learnt his name. He had short gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard of the same color. He always smelt of olive oil. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, their expressions grim. Tentatively, I rolled onto my side and began the agonizing process of standing. Eumaeus was suddenly at my side.

“Argos! Stay! Lie down. You must rest,” he said, placing his calloused hands on me, trying to force me down onto my bed. Stubbornly I refused, trying to rise despite his best efforts to the contrary.