Argos

by Simpson, Phillip

  “I have missed you too, Eumaeus,” says Odysseus, returning the embrace warmly. “Now, will you help me?”

  “Of course,” says Eumaeus. “What do you want me to do?”

  “When we are inside,” says Odysseus, “lock the doors to ensure the suitors cannot escape. When the time comes, help me destroy them.”

  Eumaeus blows out his cheeks. “If you had asked me that twenty years ago, I probably would have soiled myself. Now I’m the veteran of countless battles and my strong spear arm is yours.”

  “Good man,” says Odysseus, clapping him on the shoulder. He turns to me again and kneels once more at my side. Eumaeus joins him, his forehead creased with worry. Both men lay their hands on my body.

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” says Eumaeus, crying again. “Something came over me. It was like I had no memory of my relationship with Argos. I swear that I had no idea he was here in this state. If I’d known … ” Eumaeus trails off, sobbing. Odysseus reaches out and places his other huge hand on the back of his friend.

  “I know, Eumaeus. This is not your doing. I sense the hands of the gods here. Do not blame yourself.” My master pauses for a moment, deep in thought, stroking my head gently. “There is nothing we can do for Argos at the moment,” he says finally. “To do so would be to arouse the suspicions of the suitors.”

  Odysseus speaks the truth. Already, some passing suitors and their servants are glancing our way suspiciously.

  “We must deal with them first and then we will come back for Argos,” concludes Odysseus. He looks down at me. “Argos, dear Argos. Hold on, my old friend. I will come back for you shortly.” Odysseus stands again, his face grim.

  “Come, Eumaeus,” he says. “We have unfinished business in my hall.”

  The two men stride off in that direction. As they do so, I hear Odysseus ask Eumaeus a question.

  “How many battles exactly?”

  “Two,” says Eumaeus. “Actually, one and a bit.”

  “Better than none,” says my master and I know from his tone that he is smiling.

  I watch them go, determined to live until my master returns. But my traitorous body has other ideas. My consciousness fades and I think that this is the end, saddened that I cannot hold on to my tenuous grip of life for a few moments longer. I remember the words of Cerberus, that death was just that. An ending. There is nothing that awaited me. There is only nothingness. Everything that I am, gone forever, dispersed into the waiting sky.

  But Cerberus has lied to me. His father is Typhon after all, a Titan feared by even Zeus himself, now banished to Tartarus. He is a god in animal form and like all gods, doesn’t always play by the rules. If I have learnt anything in my life, this is it. Never trust the gods.

  I feel a dizzying sense of tumbling—not through space, but rather something else, something intangible. And then, I am lying down before Cerberus again. I rouse myself and stand, once more in my youthful body.

  “Greetings again, Argos,” rumbles the great dog. “It seems we were fated to meet sooner than expected.”

  I look around, shaken and a little disorientated. I did not expect this.

  “How did I get here?” I ask. “Wasn’t I meant to be ferried over the Styx by Charon? What of the coin to pay my passage?”

  Cerberus seems to smile at me. “Don’t be so hasty, Argos. You are not dead. Not yet at any rate. Soon, though. Are you so impatient for death?”

  I shake my head. “No,” I say. “My master has just returned. I would like to spend more time with him.”

  “We shall see,” rumbles Cerberus. “But first you need to watch something.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Impatience again, Argos? You have waited twenty years, a few more moments will make little difference.” Cerberus waves one massive paw. “Watch.”

  A large oval portal appears before us, showing the world above. It is like I am there, so clear is my view. The vision shows us the inside of the great hall. All of the suitors are gathered. Telemachus, newly returned from Sparta, Eumaeus, and the disguised Odysseus stand amongst them.

  Penelope stands on the dais beneath Odysseus’ throne. Her eyes are cloudy and she looks around with disinterest. Odysseus’ great bow lies in her hands. The bow once given to Odysseus by Apollo, long before he lost that God’s favor. Suddenly, she lifts it into the air.

  “Hear me now,” she says and I know the words are Athena’s. “I swear by all the gods that I will marry the first man who can string this bow and shoot it through a line of twelve axes.”

  There is great excitement in the hall. The suitors shuffle out of the way as Telemachus sets up the axes. Telemachus is the first to try. Don’t ask me why he wants to be part of the contest in the first place. I think he is just trying to impress his father.

  Just as Telemachus is about to succeed, Odysseus places a gentle hand on his arm. Telemachus, with a knowing smile, admits defeat and passes it to the first suitor.

  I recognize this man, but I do not know his name. Cleverly, he stretches the bow first and covers it with grease to make it supple. He needn’t have bothered. He fails in his attempt just like every single one of the suitors that follow him.

  Finally, a suitor named Eurymachus picks up the bow. Despite his best efforts, he can’t string it either.

  Antinous, self-proclaimed leader of the suitors steps forward and takes the bow from Eurymachus.

  “Brothers,” he says, “clearly the gods are not with us today. Let us adjourn until tomorrow. Tonight we will make sacrifices to Apollo, lord of archers, and try again.” He hands the bow to Eumaeus for safekeeping.

  “No,” says Odysseus, stepping forward. “Let me try.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Who are you?” asks Antinous, looking Odysseus up and down with undisguised contempt.

  “He is a son of Castor,” Telemachus lies swiftly. “I will vouch for him.”

  There is shouting from the back of the hall. Elatus pushes his way to the front. “Vouch or not,” he shouts, “this man should not be allowed to try. Where has he been before now? The rest of us have done our time, waited months for our opportunity. He swaggers in here and thinks he is our equal. Look at the way he is dressed. He is just a common beggar. I say no.” Many other voices are raised in agreement. I want to bite them.

  “I also agree with Elatus,” says Antinous. He pats Odysseus on the back in a condescending manner. “I think you have had too much wine, my friend. It’s gone to your head.”

  “Eumaeus,” says Telemachus softly. “Give our friend the bow.”

  With a smile, Eumaeus hands the bow to Odysseus. Almost too quickly for the eye to follow, Odysseus strings the bow and sends an arrow straight through all twelve axes. The arrow snaps against the far wall and clatters to the floor.

  There is absolute stunned silence within the hall. I realize I am holding my breath.

  With hardly a pause, I watch as Odysseus notches another arrow. This one he fires straight through the throat of Antinous. The odious man falls to the floor clutching his neck and choking on his own blood.

  Not one of the suitors knows what to do. Panicked shouts fill the air. Some of the suitors begin looking around for weapons. Calmly, Odysseus holds his hand up for silence.

  The suitors quiet down, curious as to how this stranger will explain himself.

  “You are probably all wondering why I just killed Antinous,” says Odysseus. “You might believe it was an accident. Perhaps my hand slipped on the bow? Well, let me tell you right now that it wasn’t an accident. Antinous deserved to die because he dared to woo another man’s wife. That man is me, Odysseus.”

  The enchantment placed upon him by Athena disappears. Odysseus is revealed in all his glory. A bark of happiness escapes my throat. Cerberus looks at me sideways but makes no comment.

  The faces of the suitors are comical. Most of them look terrified. Some make for the doors but find that they have been locked by Eumaeus.

  “Now,” says Odys
seus. “First things first. Who was responsible for harming my dog, Argos? Why is it that I have returned only to find him beaten and dying?”

  The suitors say nothing. Slowly, they part to reveal one man at their center. Elatus. The younger man stands frozen in fear. His eyes dart to the left and right looking for an ally. He finds none.

  “Ah, I should’ve known,” says Odysseus. “Elatus, son of Meges. When you see your father next, give him my greetings.”

  “Thank you, Lord Odysseus,” grovels Elatus. “Do you plan on travelling to Doulikhion in the near future, my lord?”

  “No,” says Odysseus, notching another arrow. Swiftly, he pulls to full draw and unleashes. The arrow speeds through the air, a blur of motion. It catches Elatus full in the throat. The powerful shot lifts the prince off his feet and carries him several spear lengths. The arrow finally embeds itself in the far wall of the great hall, pinning Elatus to it.

  “I meant when you see him in Tartarus,” says Odysseus grimly.

  I feel a certain sense of satisfaction at his death. Elatus, almost above all others, deserved nothing better.

  The scene degenerates into absolute carnage. It is not necessary for me to go into great detail here, suffice to say that between them, Odysseus, Telemachus, and Eumaeus slaughter almost every single suitor. Even Melantho is not spared his wrath. She is cut down for her betrayal. Penelope and Odysseus enjoy a joyous reunion. The enchantment placed upon her by Athena falls away. I watch happily for a moment and then I suddenly feel like I am intruding. That part of my life is over. I ask Cerberus to remove the portal.

  “Fair enough,” says the great hound of Hades, gesturing with his paw again. The portal disappears. “I thought perhaps you would prefer a different perspective anyway.”

  I feel a dizziness again and shut my eyes. When I open them, Cerberus, the Underworld, and the great gates of Hades are no longer before me. Cerberus has returned me to the world of men once more. Unfortunately, my circumstances have not improved. My nose tells me that I am still lying on the same dung heap.

  With an effort, I lift my head and am confronted by chaos. Around me, servants, retainers, and other members of the suitors’ retinues are frantically and hurriedly packing, keen to avoid the fate of their masters.

  The great doors of the palace are flung apart. Odysseus stands there, aglow with glorious anger, bloodied spear in hand. Athena is at his side, whispering and pointing.

  “Where is Amycus?” he thunders.

  He needn’t have asked. Running toward me is Amycus. He is almost upon me but well out of spear range. I can guess his intention. He plans to save his own life by threatening mine.

  He is only a few steps away but before he can reach me, Odysseus spots him. He hefts his spear, testing the weight. Mustering all his great strength, Odysseus makes the cast of his life. The spear shoots out of his hand, low and flat, moving with the speed of an arrow.

  It is an impossible throw. No man—not even Odysseus—should have been able to make such a throw. I suspect that Athena played a part in it. I am a little biased, but I doubt many gods could have made such a cast.

  The spear catches Amycus in the chest, bursts out, and keeps on going, slamming into the stable wall above my head, continuing to vibrate for long moments afterward.

  Amycus falls to his knees, staring at me. There is a massive hole where his chest had been and a look of surprise on his face. He remains motionless for a moment and then topples forward face first into the dung and lies still.

  Athena whispers in my master’s ear once more. Odysseus, with a face like stone, strides quickly over to the corpse of Amycus. He bends down, retrieves something from Amycus’ pocket, and places it within his own ragged tunic. Odysseus darts to my side and kneels next to me.

  He strokes my fur gently. My strength gives out and Odysseus cradles my head in his lap so that it does not fall into the dung. He places one huge hand on my muzzle and I feebly lick the sweat I find there. My master’s sweat. How long I have dreamed of tasting it once more.

  I manage to wag my tail. Odysseus catches the movement and smiles down at me.

  “Dear Argos. Great Argos,” he says, he eyes misting with tears once more. “I am sorry I wasn’t here for you. I’m sorry you had to endure so much for my sake. Thank you for watching over my family in my absence. Telemachus has told me all that you have done.”

  He cries out for a healer but we both know he is wasting his time. Odysseus is a wise man. He must know that even the greatest healer could not save me now. His huge, calloused hands against my body must feel my heart rate slow. My chest rises and then falls. The last breath I ever have escapes my mouth.

  “Farewell, Argos,” he whispers. “You are the best, most loyal dog a man could hope to have. Thank you. For everything.”

  I know this is the end but despite that, I am happy, content. Glad that my dying breath was in the arms of my master. What more could a dog want?

  I manage to wag my tail one more time before death finally claims me.

  When I open my eyes once more, Cerberus is standing before me.

  “Yes,” says Cerberus, anticipating my question before I have time to open my mouth. “This time you are truly dead. I have paid Charon on your behalf. I may live to regret it, but so be it. I believe the price is worth the gain.”

  “Am I to pass the gates then? Enter Hades?” I ask, my heart filled with hope.

  “Your fate is in the hands of my master. Hades and the other gods have yet to determine that just yet,” says Cerberus.

  I notice that he is watching me carefully. “Did that make you happy, Argos?” he asks eventually. “To see your greatest enemy dead at your feet?”

  “Not happy,” I say slowly. “Content. Relieved. Amycus deserved to die. Deserved death more than any other. I am glad he is dead—satisfied that it was my master who killed him.”

  “And how else do you feel?” the great dog asks.

  “Does it really matter?” I ask. “I am just a dog. Who cares how I feel?” I am feeling a little exasperated by his questioning.

  “I care,” says Cerberus and my annoyance drains away like it had never been.

  “I am overjoyed that I got to see my master one more time,” I say. “To feel his touch. Happy in the knowledge that Penelope and Telemachus—my family—are safe. I have lived a long life, Cerberus, and have experienced great joy in that time. I have run, hunted, and played. I have experienced friendship and have been loved. Being of service to Odysseus and his family has given me great pleasure. What more could a dog ask for?”

  “What indeed,” says Cerberus.

  “I am ready now,” I say. “Tired. Finish this. Send me to that place where I will no longer exist.”

  “In a moment,” says Cerberus. “I have one last thing to show you. In the world above, hours have passed.”

  He waves a massive paw and a portal manifests before us once more. It shows a massive funeral pyre. On the very summit lies a still body. I know who it is immediately. It is me.

  Gathered around the pyre are familiar figures. Telemachus, Penelope, and Eumaeus. My family. The ones I love and trust above all others. Except for one. My gaze is drawn to the only other figure present. My master, Odysseus. As I watch, Odysseus scrabbles up the pyre and fastens something around the neck of my dead body. It is the collar that he had given me years earlier; the symbol of our friendship. Of our loyalty and love toward one another. The collar that he took from the corpse of Amycus.

  Odysseus pats my head fondly one last time, ignoring the tears streaming down his face. Then he climbs down. Telemachus hands him a lit torch. Gently, reverently, Odysseus lights the pyre and then stands back. It bursts into sudden flame.

  Odysseus returns to his family and embraces them. Together, they watch the flames devour my body. A long plume of smoke wafts gently in the breeze, scattering what remains of my body to the four winds.

  Cerberus closes the portal and I want to howl the loss. To voice my pain and l
onging to the cosmos.

  Before I can, I feel something at my throat. I look down to find my master’s collar once again around my neck.

  Cerberus and I walk through the fields of Asphodel. There are countless human shades, a great thronging horde of them, pressed together or wandering aimlessly through the gray, monotonous terrain. Their bodies are slightly translucent, insubstantial. I notice that they glance fearfully at Cerberus, clusters of them parting quickly whenever we approach.

  “What happens to these people?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” says Cerberus. “They wait.”

  “Wait for what?” I ask.

  “The end of time,” says Cerberus, somewhat mysteriously.

  “Aren’t you worried they might escape?” I ask. “You aren’t guarding the gates. I thought you couldn’t leave your post?”

  “That is true. But my master, Hades, has given me leave to show you his realm before you depart. He himself will guard the gates in my absence.”

  I am a little surprised by this but say nothing.

  We come to a river. “Jump on my back,” orders Cerberus, kneeling down before me. His serpent’s tail swishes angrily and hisses at me. I am careful to avoid it as I climb the mane of snakes above his head, clinging to the thick fur I find there.

  “This is the Lethe—the river of oblivion,” says Cerberus as he wades into the swift flowing river. “Be careful not to touch the water. It will bring forgetfulness.”

  I consider disobeying him. Perhaps forgetfulness won’t be such a bad thing. Now that I am to be separated from everyone I love, it might not be a bad thing to remove my memories. But I cannot. To do so would betray the memory of my master.

  Cerberus swims across easily with great strokes of his mighty paws, unaffected by the strong current. We reach the other side safely and I leap off his back. I expect him to shake the excess water off but he is completely dry.