Argos (24 page)

Between the legs of jostling, straining men, I saw the hooves of the two black horses harnessed to the chariot. Without pausing, I darted through and did what dogs did best.

I chose the nearest horse and bit it on the ankle. It wasn't a hard enough bite to permanently injure the animal but it was certainly hard enough to give it a fright. The horse reared up, frightening its companion in the process, and both horses sprung into motion, trampling any warrior foolish enough to get in their way.

As the chariot surged past me, Telemachus glanced down. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Argos! Get on,” he shouted.

I didn't need to be asked twice. I leapt up into the back of the charging chariot.

Free of the encircling warriors, Eumaeus swiftly brought the horses to a gallop, mowing down the fleeing men before him.

The Ithacans, seeing their king-in-waiting gain his freedom, gave a great cheer and rallied, pushing the enemy down the beach toward their waiting ships.

The battle was over. We had won.

After this defeat, Meges' forces left us alone, retreating to their own island to lick their wounds. For a time, there was peace on Ithaca. Peace but not prosperity. Demeter, the Goddess of the harvest, presiding over the fertility of the earth, turned her back on the island. The wealth and power of Ithaca, already diminished by the absence of Odysseus, further declined.

That said, it was one of the happiest times of my life. My bond with Telemachus was stronger than ever and even Penelope, furious at first that I had escaped from the storeroom, could not maintain her anger when confronted with a happy, triumphant son.

But it didn't last. Before I knew it, it was time for Telemachus to depart. He was to be fostered in Sparta, by Menelaus himself—the very man who had started the war with Ilium in the first place and who, ironically, was the reason why Odysseus was no longer around to look after his son.

Telemachus was to spend a year with him, learning how to be a king. As Penelope had stated, Ithaca was no longer a fit training
ground for Telemachus.

Other than Odysseus' departure, it was the hardest separation I have ever had to endure. I wanted to go, of course, and had made my desires plain but they were ignored. I suspected that Penelope wanted me close, secure in the knowledge that while I lived, so too did her son. Despite his protests and fervent desire that I accompany him, Telemachus was also ignored. Penelope's will would not be denied in this matter.

It must have been hard for the young man, to live in a strange place without a familiar face, but I knew he would cope admirably. He was, after all, his father's son.

Menelaus had sent a ship for Telemachus—a great honor. It had been pulled up onto the beach, like a beached whale only too eager to return to its element.

Telemachus was once again dressed in his father's old armor. Penelope, Eumaeus, and myself gathered on the beach to bid him farewell.

“Goodbye, Mother,” he said bravely. Tears welled up his eyes but pride would not allow them to fall. They embraced.

“Farewell, my son. Be safe. You will always be in my thoughts.”

Telemachus nodded. Eumaeus stepped forward. Tears were running down his cheeks unchecked but he didn't seem to care. He gathered Telemachus into a bear hug and held the boy tight. “Learn well. Make us proud,” he said. “Return to us a king.”

Telemachus reluctantly broke the embrace. “I will, Eumaeus. Thank you.”

Finally, Telemachus turned his attention to me. He crouched down and hugged me so that my head rested on his shoulder.
“Look after my mother, Argos,” he whispered into my ear. “Just like you have looked after me so well. Keep up our vigil for my father.”

I licked his ear, promising to do no less.

He stood and turned, making his way down the beach to the waiting ship. The sea was calm, proof that Poseidon no longer had designs on his life.

After Penelope and Eumaeus had returned to the palace, I remained at the beach, despite the fact that I had long since lost sight of the ship's sail. It seemed that another stone had been added to the burden already on my heart.

Some good came out of Telemachus' departure, however. Penelope was determined to keep me safe. My safety ensured that of her son and proximity was her primary tool. I slept outside the bedchamber she once shared with Odysseus and accompanied her wherever she went—whether I wanted to or not.

It was a mutually dependent relationship. For the most part, I wanted to be with her because—let's be honest—other than Eumaeus, she was all I had left. The two most important humans in my life had departed. Not that she needed me to protect her against any danger. She had her own guards and Meges was no longer a threat to Ithaca.

On long quiet nights, she would often sit in front of the fire
with my head in her lap. It must have been therapeutic for her to comb fleas and knots out of my fur. In a way, the time we spent together helped her come to terms with the absence of both her husband and son. I gave her a much needed outlet to her grief—someone she could tend to and look after. It also served to bring her out of her self-imposed isolation and she spent less and less time locked in her room.

I grew a little fatter due to the inactivity. When Telemachus was around, I would often hunt with him. Now, I did almost nothing other than pace around the palace or have the occasional stroll outside. Certainly nothing taxing or strenuous. Penelope would not even allow me to hunt on my own or with her men for fear that I would be injured. It grated but I consoled myself with the knowledge that Penelope was the most content she had been in a long time. It was worth it.

Happily, before I knew it, a year had passed and Telemachus was due to return to Ithaca. When Penelope heard news that a sail was on the horizon, she immediately donned her best dress and departed for the beach, myself trotting at her heels.

The excitement in the air was palpable. We waited on the beach, watching nervously as each figure clambered off the ship and onto the soft sand. Finally, we recognized one of them.

I threw dignity to the winds and raced toward the armored figure. It was indeed Telemachus. He gathered me into his arms and we embraced joyfully. I licked his face thoroughly, enjoying the taste of salt on his skin.

“How I have missed you, Argos,” he laughed. He patted my growing stomach affectionately. “I see that you have made the most
of my absence.” I wagged my tail half-heartedly, feeling a little embarrassed. I had been reluctant to refuse the extra tidbits offered by Penelope. No dog turns down food. Unlike myself, Telemachus had clearly thrived during the last year in Sparta. He looked fit and healthy, tanned and well-groomed. A man amongst men.

Together, we moved up the beach. Telemachus and Penelope embraced, much like they had on the day he had departed a year earlier.

“Are you well, my son?” she asked.

Telemachus smiled. “Never better, Mother. Menelaus was a generous and wise host. I have learnt much from him and his men.”

Penelope nodded. “Good. You can put those lessons to good use. We have need of strong leadership. Especially now … ”

Telemachus saw the worried look on her face. “What is it, Mother?”

“The same troubles we had before you departed. The crops continue to fail. Livestock sicken and die, despite Eumaeus' best efforts. Ithaca struggles without your father, Telemachus.”

He hugged her. “Do not fear, Mother. I will do my best to make matters right.”

Penelope gave him a tight smile. “I have no doubt of that, my son.” She paused for a moment. “I am glad you are back, Telemachus. I have missed you. Argos has been good company but the palace is not the same without you.”

Aggrieved by her comment I understood it nevertheless. I was just a dog. No dog could replace the affections of her only son.

Together, the three of us made our way back to the palace.

A
fter his return from Sparta, Telemachus was more obsessed with finding his father than ever. He sent out spies and messengers and questioned every arriving sailor. He departed from our shores for weeks at a time but always returned empty handed. His time with Menelaus had only fanned the fires of the quest that burned in his heart.

A few more years passed and I grew so old that I became more of a hindrance than a help when Telemachus went hunting, much as it pains me to admit it. Filled with excitement as he readied himself to go hunting, I would accompany him out of the palace gates. Once past them, however, my joints would start to ache and I would begin to hobble. Telemachus would have taken me regardless, but it was always I who turned back before the situation became awkward. My mind was still young but my
body was failing me. Despite my enthusiasm, I was a realist. If I couldn't keep up with Telemachus, I had no right to go on a hunt with him.

It was depressing and frustrating but I was content that I had Telemachus' company at all. He would've been completely justified to use another younger dog. To his credit, he didn't. I wouldn't have blamed him though. Telemachus was a strong young man in the prime of his life. I was an old dog at the end of mine. In that respect, we were not well suited.

Almost twenty long years had gone by since Odysseus had left. Contrary to Penelope's hopes, the prospects of Ithaca did not improve with the return of Telemachus. The island continued to suffer. Penelope and Telemachus (with advice from Laertes and Eumaeus) were fair and kind rulers but that was not enough. The gods had once again conspired against the kingdom of Odysseus.

One day, Telemachus was off hunting and I was lying at the feet of Penelope in her chambers, content to doze while she sat weaving.

Suddenly, I caught a familiar scent. I hadn't smelt it in years and at first was a little baffled. I lifted my head to find that Penelope and I were not alone.

There were two other women in the room and both were immortals.

The first I recognized immediately. Athena. Today, she carried both shield and spear. The other, I had never met before but knew who she must be by the quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder and the bow she held in her hand. Artemis, Goddess of the hunt, mistress of animals. Because of her realm of influence, I
shared a greater bond with her than any of the other gods. It was strange that we had never met before.

Outside the window, I could see that time had slowed or even halted altogether. The clouds that had only moments before been racing across the sky were now stationary.

With a start, Penelope became aware of our visitors and her head jerked upward. Weaving forgotten, she leaped upward and bowed.

“Goddesses,” she said. “Daughters of Zeus. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Greetings, Penelope, wife of Odysseus,” said Athena, “and to you also, Argos, Lord of hounds.”

Lord of hounds indeed. Since when did I deserve that title? Clearly, my status had risen recently, especially in the eyes of the gods. Artemis nodded once in the direction of Penelope, then our eyes met and she smiled.

“Where are my manners?” said Penelope. “May I offer you some refreshment?”