Argos (13 page)

L
ast night Father Zeus stormed. Never have I seen such arrows of lightning nor heard thunder as if a thousand bronze shields were struck at once. The servants in the house extinguished all the candles, not wishing to provoke his anger with their light. The animals bedded down in the barns, and even I took shelter in a cave while I waited for Zeus to find appeasement. Finally rose-colored dawn has come, and the last roll of thunder has abated. Outside I hear a goose calling, so I leave the cave and take the trail down to the harbor. I find the goose perched on the dock. His head is folded under his wing in the manner that birds have, and I have to bark twice before he straightens his long neck.

Although they are dull-witted, of all the winged creatures,
none flies higher than the goose, and that is why I have sought him.
Perhaps he has flown over Mount Olympus and knows why Father Zeus was angry
,
I think.

“Greetings, Cloud Flyer,” I address him. I stay some distance away as I say this, for it is commonly known that geese are the foulest-smelling bird.

“Greetings to you, loyal Argos,” he replies. “Come closer. I have much to tell you.”

Reluctantly, I step closer. “What news do you bring, Sir Goose?”

“Closer, Argos. My voice is tired from calling my brothers, and I must leave soon.”

Before stepping closer I ask, “Do you have news of my master, noble goose?”

“Aye, Boar Slayer. That is why I have stopped here. The gods spoke your master's name last night.”

Hearing this, the fur on my back stands up, and I approach him with my head low in respect and to avoid his breath.

“Please,” I beg. “Tell me everything.”

Before speaking, the goose curls his neck three times and then belches loudly.

“Ahh, much better,” he says. “Now, what was I talking about?”

“You said the gods spoke of my master,” I remind him, stepping back a little.

“Yes, of course. Well, I was leading our flock last night and decided to take us over Mount Olympus. My brothers and I saw the gods holding counsel there, so we stopped to listen. Most of the gods were present, Argos, and Olympus shone with their glory. Fair Athena was in attendance, and she addressed her father thus: ‘Father Zeus,' she spoke. ‘I beg you to remember your servant, noble Odysseus. For seven years he has been constrained on Kalypso's island, suffering with a heavy heart, longing to see his son, Telemachos, now nearly grown, and his long-enduring wife.'”

My master spoken of in front of Father Zeus himself!

“What did Lord Zeus say then?” I ask the goose, who again is curling his neck.

He belches a second time and says, “Truly Athena is wise, loyal Argos, for this plea is what angered Father Zeus, just as she intended. Never have I seen such lightning or heard such thunder!”

“Indeed, noble goose, Ithaka herself shook like leaves on a tree. But tell me, what did Zeus say after he hurled his lightning?”

“Boar Slayer, what Father Zeus said will bring joy to your
heart. He ordered Hermes to fly to the nymph Kalypso with this message: that she of the most lovely hair shall not forestall the homecoming of enduring Odysseus any longer, but allow him to construct a raft and leave her island immediately. She must direct him to sail to the island of the Phaiakians, who will provide him with a fast and steady ship, for it is fated that he return to the land of his fathers.”

“O most noble of birds and highest flyer of all, truly your words give me hope! What can I do to reward you for your loyalty? Tell me, and if it is in my power I shall do it.”

The goose spreads his wings and belches a third time before answering.

“This I ask of you, loyal one. Young Telemachos has grown to be a fine hunter, and none can outfly his straight arrows. Lead him not in the direction of our nests for two winters, so that our flock can grow, for we have suffered much from his prowess. Do this, and you shall owe me nothing else.”

I nod and say, “I swear to you, then, Sir Goose, I shall do as you ask. Soon your flocks will blacken the sky.”

“And I shall fly at the front,” the goose says, burping yet again.

“Indeed. Farewell, Sir Goose. May the gods be good to you.”

Then I run back up the path leading to the stable, where even
the smell of goats and sheep are welcome to me. The goatherd is calling my name just as I come over the hill, and I spend the rest of the day chasing the yellow-eyed kids, pretending to be a mountain wolf so they will learn to stay together and not wander off alone as their stupid cousins, the sheep, do.

A
kakios, who plans to kidnap Telemachos, is a vain and stingy man who loves his wine as much as his ships. Since his home is near the shore and the soil there is too poor to grow grapes, he has his wine brought to him in large wooden barrels. The winemaker who sells it lives on the south of my master's estate, so I have seen his ox-pulled cart every week pass through our land on his way to distribute his wine to the noble families that live along the shore. At each stop he picks up the empty casks and delivers full replacements. Tomorrow is a festival day, so he will be making his rounds this afternoon, when Apollo's chariot is over the western sky and the cool winds blow in from the sea. That is when I will take my revenge.

The day drags slowly by, as often happens when one
anticipates the unknown. Finally I hear the lowing of an ox, and I know the winemaker approaches. I let the oxcart pass and then follow along behind it, hiding in the scrub while the winemaker delivers his barrels to every fine estate along the shore. He and his servants bring back empty barrels and stack them next to the full ones, and then he covers the cart again with sailcloth and continues on his way. Luna is nearly overhead when he reaches Akakios's estate, and I know his servants will be in a hurry to finish before darkness falls and it is unsafe to travel.

When the winemaker nears Akakios's estate, I jump into an empty barrel, curl up, and wait. How tight the fit is, but the gods make my old bones supple again, and I can bear the pain. The barrel, with me inside, weighs as much as a wine-filled one. Now I must pray that I am carried inside. A moment later I feel my barrel being lifted and carried into Akakios's house. I think of my master then, imagining what he felt when the Trojans wheeled his giant horse into their own fortress, sealing their doom. I am now also inside my enemy's gate.

Once the house is quiet, I topple my barrel and crawl out. How my bones ache! How my black coat smells of rotten grapes! But I am inside now. I stop and listen. His servants have gone to bed, and Akakios has not yet returned from my
master's house, although I know he will arrive soon. Then I smell it. A guard dog. And he will smell me.

I creep out of the storeroom and make my way to the courtyard, where I see him. The dog is tied by his neck to a tree. Even in the darkness I can see he is a large beast; his coat is either brown or black, I cannot tell which. His neck and tail droop pitifully.

“Brother!” I call softly. “Do not bark! I bear you no harm.”

“There is no food here, friend,” the dog replies. “Come back tomorrow after the festival. There will be scraps on the ground then.”

I move closer to the dog so that he can see my face.

“I do not seek food. What is your name, brother?”

“I am called Cadmus. And yours?”

“I am Argos.”

“The Boar Slayer?”

“I am also called that. Tell me, Brother Cadmus, does Akakios tie you up every night?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he knows I will run away if he doesn't.”

“Why would you run away? Are you not loyal to him?”

“Loyalty must be earned, should it not, Argos?”

“Indeed,” I say. “He beats you?”

“Aye. He is a cruel man. He has no wife nor children, only wine to keep him company. And I have often felt his strong foot and stinging strap. But why are you here, Boar Slayer?”

“To kill your master.”

“Why? What has he done to you?”

“He has threatened to kidnap my master's son. For that he cannot live.”

For a moment Cadmus says nothing. I wait for his warning bark. It never comes. Instead he says, “You have shamed me by coming here, brother.”

“Why? That was not my intention,” I say.

“Have you not found me tied like a slave to a stake by my own master? Have you not come to destroy the man who has been cruel to me my entire life?”

Truly, I see that my words have stung him. Proud Cadmus's tail hangs low and his ears lie flat.

I quickly gnaw through his rope. “Go now,” I tell him. “You are free. Your duty to your master has ended.”

Cadmus shakes his head. “No, loyal one. My duty begins now. Leave with haste and return to your master's son. Akakios will trouble the house of Odysseus no more.”

We touch noses, and I leave. As I climb a ridge, I see Akakaios
arriving in his cart. Sometime later I think I hear a man cry out, but it might be the wind, which blows from the north this time of year, bringing sounds from far away.

The next day I meet Telemachos outside his tutor's home and make him follow me to Amphitrite's lonely temple. Somehow he understands me, and the following day when we return to the temple, Telemachos brings an offering, and he vows to continue to do so every week.

Thus the goddess will be appeased.

M
any days passed before I heard news about my master. Had Hermes spoken to Kalypso? Would she obey Zeus, her father, and release him? How could he leave the island with no ship to convey him? Every evening I took the path down to the docks to eavesdrop on the sailors arriving from distant lands, to hear if they spoke of a man sailing the sea alone on a makeshift boat. I heard nothing.

Then, as dawn spreads her rosy fingers, I hear a dove cooing from the eves of the sheep stall, and I trot over to greet it, as doves are not common on our island.

“Are you Argos, the Boar Slayer?” the dove asks when I reach the stall. She is as white as the sea spray that licks the docks on a stormy afternoon.

“I am called that,” I say. “What wind brings you to Ithaka, fair dove? You will find eagles here, but not your brethren.”

“If you are indeed Argos, then I will not remain long. Lift your head so that I may see if your chest is white, like a shining shield, for I have a tale to tell you if it is so.”

I lift my head high and stand on my back legs, revealing my chest.

“Ah, you are indeed he,” says the dove, bobbing her shapely head.

“From what isle did you come, fair dove?” I ask. “And what news do you bring?”

“From the island where lovely Kalypso lives, loyal one, and which your master has called home for seven years now.”

I put my front paws in front of me and lower my head in respect. “Please, most revered of all birds, tell me your tale. Did Hermes come to your island as Father Zeus commanded?”

The dove flies down from the eaves and takes a perch on a pine stump so that I can hear her clearly, for her voice is soft and low, as doves never shriek or caw as many other birds do.

“Aye, Boar Slayer, Hermes arrived on winged foot four days ago. Fair Kalypso was spinning cloth of the most lustrous silk, and your master, famed Odysseus, was staring out at the sea, lamenting his fate, as he has done every day since I was a
hatchling. Seeing Hermes, beautiful Kalypso said, ‘How is it, Hermes, with your golden staff, that you have never visited my island until now? Speak what is in your mind, and it shall be accomplished if I can do it. But first let me offer you repast. I have ambrosia and sweet nectar for you to eat.'

“When she had set this out before him and he had eaten his fill, Hermes said, ‘Goddess, you asked me what brought me to your island, and this is my answer: Father Zeus sent me here across this endless saltwater. He says you have with you a wretched man who longs for his homeland after sacking Troy and then losing all his companions before washing ashore here. But it is not his fate that he should die far away from his people. It is ordained that he return to his own house and the land of his fathers. So I have come this far to tell you this.

“Then, loyal Argos, did beautiful Kalypso weep, for she had fallen in love with your master. Oh, the sound of her weeping broke my own heart, for we doves mate for life, and we die when our companion dies. That is our destiny.”

The dove coos softly and closes her opaline eyes. I am not interested in the romantic life of doves, but again I lower my head to show respect. After sufficient time, I say, “But surely, noble dove, fair Kalypso agreed to Zeus's command, did she not? She agreed to let my master leave?”

“Nay, Boar Slayer. It was not so simple, for to give up what one loves is no easy task, even for a god. Seeing Hermes unmoved, her tears dried, and she became angry.

“‘How hard-hearted you gods are, and how jealous!' she cried. ‘Why can I not find happiness with a mortal? Did I not save his life? I found this man clinging to the mast of his ship, a ship that Zeus himself destroyed with a bolt of lightning, killing all his companions, and I brought him here, nursing him back to life! I cherished him and I loved him, and now Zeus commands me to send him away?'

“But Hermes said, ‘Goddess, be careful not to defy your father, lest he rage against you and drive you from this enchanted island.'

“Then gentle Kalypso picked up a stone and threw it at Hermes, but he dodged it, and the next one too, and the next, until my fair Kalypso fell to her knees, sobbing piteously. Seeing this, the messenger god took pity on her and said gently, ‘Loveliest of nymphs, ask Odysseus himself if he wishes to leave. If he chooses to remain here with you, then I shall return to Olympus and tell Father Zeus to change his destiny.'

“So fair Kalypso rose to her feet and walked down to the beach where your master sat on the seaside rocks, staring far out into the horizon as if he could see his homeland instead of
the endless water. With such tenderness she placed her jeweled hand on his shoulder. Argos, how it broke my heart to see such love she had for him! Then she said, ‘Bravest of mortals, for seven years you have remained on this island, spending nearly every hour staring out to sea. In this time I have grown to love you, but now I ask . . . is there love in your heart for me as well, or is it too full of longing for your home and family?'

“Then your master turned his tear-swollen eyes to the goddess and said, ‘Why do you ask, shining nymph? I am cursed to remain here until the end of my days, am I not? There is no way for me to escape my fate, as no ship has ever come near, nor are there any trees for me to construct a raft of my own.'

“Then my lovely mistress wept again. ‘Cursed?' she cried. ‘You have answered my question, fearless one, with that word. So let me tell you this. Father Zeus has commanded that I release you from this fate if you desire it. I know now that your heart belongs on Ithaka, and there you must return.'

“Hearing this, your master rose to his feet and took my mistress's jeweled hand.

“‘That is easily said, fairest one,' he said. ‘But how will I leave this place? I have not the wings of yonder dove, nor can I swim like the fish that leap from wave to wave.'

“Then my mistress in all her shining radiance said, ‘Wretched
man, do you not know that in these seven years you spent staring out into the sea, the trees I burned upon your arrival have regrown tall and straight? Chop them down and fashion a raft for yourself, and I shall spin you a sail. Father Zeus has promised you fair winds, enough to carry you to the land of the Phaiakians, where they will give you a fast ship for the rest of your journey.'

“Oh, how your master embraced my mistress, and then together they climbed the path up from the shore, where he saw, for the first time, the trees he could fell for his raft. For four days and nights he labored, and finally it was seaworthy. He attached my mistress's sail and carved a paddle to steer his craft.

“Just as your master was about to launch his boat into the tireless waves, my mistress fell to her knees on the sandy shore and begged piteously. ‘Brave Odysseus,' she cried, ‘although I cannot make you immortal, if you remain here, the gods will give you a long life. No sword will ever sting you, nor will age cripple your legs and bring you misery, so I promise.'

“Then, Argos, I saw your master weep, for surely he knew that my mistress would never love another man. ‘Fairest of all,' he said, ‘you know my answer. I would not break your raw heart if there were another way, for truly you are the most
beautiful of women. Still, my longing for my own wife Penelope and my son weighs even heavier upon me. Let me go now, and I will honor your love with tales of your generous spirit when I reach Ithaka.'

“Hearing these words, my mistress gave your master bread and wine for his journey, and he pushed himself into the crashing waves, where soon a favorable wind took him out to sea. And then I flew here, loyal one, to tell you this, that you might know your master's fate.”

Oh, such joy runs through me now! My master will soon be sailing home, and I will be there to greet him! “I thank you, purest one, for coming here and relieving me of my burden!” I cry. “Though I am an old dog, you have made my heart young again!”

But the dove says nothing in response to my gratitude, but hides her head under a white wing.

Seeing this, I say, “Forgive my overweening joy, shining dove, for I know your mistress is alone now on her mist-shrouded island. Return to her and give her comfort, I beg you.”

The dove lifts her head. “You misunderstand me, loyal one. I hide my face because I have not told you everything, and truly the words are difficult to speak.”

“What words are these, White Wing? Did not Zeus himself
send a fair wind to convey my master to the Phaiakians? Surely no harm can befall my master now!”

“Still your pink tongue, Boar Slayer, for you have nearly answered your own question. Give me a moment and I will tell all.”

Hearing this, I sit on my haunches and wait for the bird to gain her courage. Finally she says what I am most afraid to hear.

“It is true that at the council Zeus himself promised to send a fair wind to steer your master to the Phaiakian land and so appease gray-eyed Athena. But not all the gods were at the council, Stag Hunter, as swift Hermes told me that fateful morning.”

The fur along my back rises, and a snarl forms on my lips.

“Tell me, kind dove, what god did not attend, and who is he that he could stand up to Father Zeus?”

“There is only one, Argos. He is brother to Zeus himself. He is Poseidon, the earth shaker. And your master killed his son, Polyphemos of the Cyclopes.”

Then does my heart break.