Argos (4 page)

T
hat was a turning point in my life. My situation markedly improved once Odysseus took my health and well-being directly in hand.

I was taken to the palace via the servant's entrance at the rear, passing a squat stone fortress that stood adjacent to the main palace on the promontory overlooking the cliff. Now, as palaces go, this wasn't a grand affair. It was a fairly simple structure built of plain, undressed stone and wood harvested from the cypress trees that grew sparsely on the island. Odysseus himself had built some of it with his own hands and it reflected his personality well. Solid. Comforting and reliable.

Odysseus carried me into the bedchamber he shared with his wife, Penelope. I looked around with awe. Obviously, I had never been anywhere other than the kennels and had seen little else in
my short life. In fact, just seeing the massive kitchen for the first time and smelling those lovely aromas of roasting meat made me drool. I hadn't yet been weaned but my teeth were starting to poke through my gums suggesting I was ready for solid food. The effect of those delicious smells that wafted around me suggested the same thing. My shrunken stomach had growled alarmingly and Odysseus had smiled and snatched a small morsel for me to chew on. It was amazing. I was still munching contentedly on it when we entered the bedchamber.

Many things competed for my attention in that room, foremost amongst them my master's wife, Penelope. As a dog, I have little idea about beauty. What I consider beautiful, you may not. Beauty to me can be a juicy bone. But Penelope was beautiful. So beautiful that for a moment, I wished I was a man. Her beauty had brought suitors from halfway around the world. But that is a tale for later. I am getting ahead of myself.

Penelope sat in a comfortable looking padded chair at the window. The gentle summer's breeze wafted her golden hair. It was even more glorious than my mother's fur. She glowed with health, almost as though there was a tiny miniature sun buried deep within her body. Long, slender fingers worked delicately on an item of clothing in her lap. Beside her was a small crib but the angle was all wrong and I couldn't see who or what was inside.

When she heard footsteps, she looked up and seeing Odysseus, smiled, her face undergoing a transformation, becoming otherworldly. At the time, I thought she couldn't possibly be human. She was too beautiful for that. If I'd known about the gods, I would've thought she was one of them. Now,
having seen the gods, I know that she is not but her beauty rivals that of Aphrodite herself. I know to say such things is tantamount to blasphemy, but here, in this place, I hardly think it matters. Besides, if the gods are offended by the words and thoughts of a mere dog, then perhaps they are not as great as they think they are.

“Odysseus,” she said, setting aside her work and rising gracefully from the chair. “My husband. What brings you to our chamber at this early hour? I thought you were inspecting the kennels?”

“I was, my love. I have inspected the kennels and now I have returned. I have a gift for you and Telemachus.”

Penelope became suddenly aware that her husband was carrying something in his powerful arms.

“This is Argos,” said Odysseus simply.

She reached out and gently took me from Odysseus. I did my best to remain calm. I didn't want to disgrace myself in front of my master's wife. Despite my best efforts however, I couldn't help but make a tiny mewling sound of delight.

Penelope's face crinkled with concern when she saw me. “He's so thin. What has Amycus been doing to him?”

“Not doing his job. Playing petty games,” said Odysseus, sounding grim. “I swear to the gods that if he disobeys me one more time, I will end him. I'll do the job myself, too. He went too far this time, deliberately letting this pup starve just to spite me.”

“Hush,” said Penelope. “You'll frighten the baby. It doesn't matter now. We'll get some good food into him and he'll be fine.”

Cradling me in her arms, she walked over to the crib and leaned over so that I could get a good view of what it contained. It was a baby, of course. Telemachus. The son of Penelope and Odysseus, born on the same day as me. My human brother.

As soon as the boy saw me, his eyes opened wide with delight and he held his small chubby arms up for me. Both Odysseus and Penelope laughed. She lowered me down so that Telemachus and I were face to face. His eager hands explored my body, pulling my fur and my ears in surprisingly strong hands. It hurt a little but I didn't care. The boy smelled delicious. Like milk and sunflowers. Instinct took over. I couldn't help myself. I licked his face more times than was absolutely necessary or dignified but I got a little carried away. He squealed with pure joy, absolutely fascinated. Above us, Penelope and Odysseus laughed again happily.

“That's enough now,” said Penelope, lifting me away from his grasping hands. “You both need to get some sleep. And by the looks of Argos, a decent meal.”

“Yes,” rumbled Odysseus, taking me from Penelope's hands. “I can't trust Amycus to look after him any longer. Argos will stay with us in the palace.”

Penelope nodded. “I'll have the servants make a bed for him in front of the fire in the great hall. He can sleep there.”

“He will pine for his littermates,” cautioned Odysseus. “Perhaps … perhaps it would be better for him to sleep in here, with us.”

Penelope laughed, a sound so delightful that my tail wagged of its own accord. She reached out and cupped one of Odysseus' stubbly cheeks with her soft hand. “You are too soft, my lord.”
Odysseus bristled but she quietened him with a caress. “I mean that in a good way. You have a kind heart, my husband. A good heart. That is what drew me to you.” She kissed him gently on the lips. “But I will not have my little Telemachus' sleep disturbed by another infant.”

I saw Odysseus' mouth open to say something but then he obviously thought better of it and shut it again. I have since learnt that once Penelope makes up her mind that is the end of it. I have mentioned that my master is wise. There is no greater wisdom possessed by man than one who knows not to argue with his wife.

“I'll see to it that he is fed,” said Odysseus finally. “Perhaps a little cow's milk and some more meat.”

“You have servants to do that,” said Penelope.

“Yes,” said Odysseus, “and even though I hold them in high regard, I believe the matter of Argos requires my personal touch. This dog is special. I feel it in my bones. The gods have sent him to me for a reason. It wasn't just coincidence that he was born on the same day as Telemachus.”

“He has seven other littermates born on the same day,” reminded Penelope, picking up her infant son and placing him on her bared breast to feed. Just watching Telemachus suck away made me hungry. “Are they special too?” she asked, resuming her seat.

Odysseus smiled and shook his head. “No, I don't believe so. You should have seen him attack Amycus when he thought his family was in danger.”

“Obviously a good judge of character,” Penelope remarked drily.

Odysseus roared with laughter. “Indeed,” he said, still laughing. He made to exit the room. As he did, I finally got a good look at one of the other things in the room that had intrigued me. The bed. You, Cerberus, have probably heard of Odysseus' bed. It's quite famous. Carved from a living olive tree. Odysseus built his bedchamber around it, carving the bed out of the tree as a gift to his wife and a symbol of their love.

All I could think about just then was how comfortable it looked and what I would give to sleep there with my master.

Later that evening, my belly swollen with milk and meat, I rested comfortably on an improvised bed made of goatskin. The blazing fire behind me warmed my skinny bones. It was the first time in weeks that I had been truly content, not wracked by hunger or plagued with worry over what Amycus had planned for me next.

Odysseus and I were alone. Earlier that evening, the banquet hall had been filled with revelers—a visiting group of dignitaries from a neighboring island. I still wasn't sure why they had visited Ithaca. Snuggled up in Odysseus' arms, I had paid little attention to the conversation.

If they had thought it odd that Odysseus was cradling a pup during a formal banquet, they had wisely kept their thoughts to themselves. Not that Odysseus would have cared. He had such self-confidence (some would argue that it was arrogance), that he
really didn't care about how he appeared before others. I wasn't about to argue either. To be stroked by my master on his lap was delicious bliss.

I must have fallen asleep because, when I awoke, I found myself on my bed before the fire. Nearby, at the head of the great banquet table, Odysseus sat in his chair, lost in thought, a goblet resting next to his hand. I could tell from the smell that the goblet contained undiluted wine. All through the evening, Odysseus had been careful to water his wine heavily to not dull his wits. Now, with no one around to see or care, my master was free to indulge himself.

“The things I do to secure my kingdom,” he said suddenly. I knew that even though he wasn't looking at me, it was to me he spoke. “In my father's day, that rabble would have been sent packing. Now I have to indulge them for the sake of alliances and trade.” He chuckled to himself, then lowered his head so our eyes met. “What did you think of them, Argos?”

I tended to agree with Odysseus. I hadn't liked the smell of them at all—especially the visiting king and his young son. I opened my mouth to voice this opinion but all that came out was a pitiful bark.

“My thoughts exactly,” said Odysseus, reaching for his wine goblet. His hand was still steady as he grasped it and drained it with one swift flick of his wrist. He rose from the table and stretched mightily.

“That's it for me, Argos,” he said, bending over to stroke my head. “My bed calls. Enjoy yours. I daresay that it is far more comfortable than your previous accommodation. I will see you
in the morning. Be a good dog.”

With that, he ambled away from the table and through an adjoining archway.

For the first time in my life, I was alone. I won't pretend otherwise—I was scared. Dogs, you must remember, are pack animals. We like being with others of our kind or with our adopted human pack mates. I didn't care for this feeling of isolation one bit.

But I had no choice. I could hardly return to the kennels for fear of what Amycus would do to me. In any case, I'd heard the doors to the palace being shut earlier. I couldn't get out, even if I wanted to.

Then there was Odysseus and that great bed. It took all my will power not to leap up and go seek him out but I didn't want to disappoint my master. Even though I was young, I wanted him to be proud of me—proud that I was an independent, brave dog—despite the fact that at that moment, I felt anything but.

I huddled into a ball, earning small comfort from my own body pressed up against itself. It was nothing like curling up with my littermates or my mother. But at least I had a full stomach and a warm fire at my back. Many dogs had much less.

Shivering with loneliness rather than the non-existent cold, I attempted to make the best of things and go to sleep. I must have succeeded because, when I awoke, it was several hours later. Dogs have an innate sense of time. They know when the sun is about to rise and when it will set. It must be because we are all descended from wolves. Instinctively, we know when the best times to hunt are—in the early hours before dawn when prey
animals are drowsy and vulnerable. This is the time I woke, but it wasn't out of any desire to hunt. I was too young in any case. No, something else had woken me.

I got to my feet and sniffed the air cautiously. Whatever it was had an unfamiliar scent. Neither human nor animal—at least no animal I had encountered. There was something enticing about the scent, too. Something different.

Wary now, I crept to the archway and trotted through into the heavily frescoed interior of the vestibule that connected the banquet hall to the main hall. Silence gathered around me. I made no noise as I padded over the terracotta floor. My paws were soft and my claws were small and only partially formed.

The vestibule was lit by a few torches, held in place by sconces embedded in the stone walls. Shadows cast by the torches danced and played about, giving seeming life to the figures and animals depicted in the frescoes. They startled me at first, but when I realized they posed no risk, I advanced more confidently. Eventually, following my nose, I found myself in the main hall. This, I would learn later, was what served as Odysseus' throne room. It was not as grand as some (I have heard that Agamemnon's throne room dwarfs it in both scale and grandeur), but to a pup like myself, it was a vast intimidating cavern.

Other than the throne itself, several curious objects drew my eye. On the wall above a massive hearth set in the far end of the hall were a number of weapons. A shield, a spear, and a bow and a quiver of arrows. But it was the bow that commanded my attention. It was huge. I knew as soon as I looked at it that there was something special about it. I was about to move closer and
inspect it when I heard a slight noise behind me.