Argos

by Ralph Hardy

  “Pardon me, ancient one. I may appear rude, but I am only anxious for my master’s return. Now that I know it is imminent, let me show my respect by guarding the eggs of your sisters here. I promise you that their offspring will encounter no predators as they return to the sea. I will guard them with my own powerful jaws, and no bird will dare snatch one in its beak, so I swear.”

  “So it shall be, loyal one, and I thank you. They will hatch in two moons’ time. Guard them well on this lethal shore, and your pledge will be filled. I return now to the sea. I feel its pull, and I have many more miles to swim.”

  The ancient turtle begins her laborious trek back down to the shore. When she reaches the edge of the foam, she stops and turns her head to me.

  “Farewell, Argos, and remember your pledge.”

  “I shall. And good swimming to you, sister. Mind my master’s ships as they approach Ithaka.”

  For a long moment she says nothing. Nor does she enter the sea. Then she turns to me and blinks her glassy eyes several times, as if she is trying to decide to tell me something or not. Finally she says, “Foolish pup! I never said your master’s ships were steered toward Ithaka—only that they had left the land of the Lotus Eaters.”

  The fur on my back rises. “Where did they sail then, ancient one, if not back here to their home?”

  “They were sailing toward the island of giants. The land of the Cyclopes, Boar Slayer,” she says, making her way toward the crashing sea. Then she stops and turns to look me in the eye once more. “Only Father Zeus can save them now.”

  CHAPTER VI

  The dread Cyclopes

  Luna is round tonight, as she was when I last learned about my master from the deceitful sea turtle. I have never heard much of the Cyclopes, or of their ways, only that they are giants. Perhaps they are gentle, though, for often a small man is cruel and vicious, while a large man is careful and prudent with his strength. It is that way with dogs too: the small ones bite, while the large ones need only bark. Is this not so?

  But I am not content to merely hope that my master is safe; I must know with certainty. There is a marsh in the south of Ithaka where flocks of teals lay their eggs after their long flights east from Aoia. Surely they know of the Cyclopes, I think as I make my way along a goat trail that winds its way toward that marsh.

  After several hours, the terrain begins to change. The pine trees make way for junipers and the hills grow less steep. Soon I’m walking along flat earth, and I find a small pool from which to drink. After easing my thirst, I stop to listen. A thousand teals can drown an army’s noise. Never have I heard such squawking and quacking!

  The marsh is easy to find. My paws begin to stick in the muck, and soon I am trotting through reeds as tall as spears. After a few minutes I reach the small lake where the teals nest. There are hundreds of them swimming in sharp deltas along the water, occasionally ducking their heads and lifting their bottoms out of the water. Near the shore, fledglings follow their mothers along the bank, learning to paddle their flat feet. I have come just in time. In a few weeks the flocks will have left Ithaka, flying farther south in their restless way.

  I sit down at the shore and listen for a few minutes. Their language is incomprehensible. My worst fear has come true: I don’t know their tongue. A large teal waddling along the bank approaches me as I sit wondering what to do.

  “I am Argos, the Boar Slayer,” I say slowly.

  The teal says nothing.

  “My master is Odysseus. He is known throughout the world as the Wily One. Do you know him?”

  This time the teal quacks once, then stretches his curved neck, turning his head nearly around.

  “Do you know the land of the Cyclopes?” I ask.

  Again the teal quacks and twists his head impossibly.

  “Save your breath, loyal Ar-Ar-Argos,” a voice says from above me. “The teals do not speak the common tongue. After Father Zeus took Leda as his mate, no long-necked water fowl would speak it, and now they have forgotten it completely.”

  I look up. A crow is perched on a juniper branch. It was he who had spoken.

  “Cousin Crow, wisest of birds,” I call up to him. “I thank you for your assistance. Tell me, can you speak to them? Surely you know their language, master of all voices.”

  The crow hops down to a lower branch. “Yes, of course I know it. What do you wish to ask them?”

  “I seek news of my master Odysseus. He was last seen sailing toward the land of the Cyclopes. I thought these high-flyers might have seen him and know his fate.”

  The crow alights on a fallen tree next to me so that we are eye-to-eye.

  “I will ask them for you, Boar Slayer, but it may take some time to get the truth. These are the most disagreeable of birds, and they interrupt one another constantly. Go back to your master’s home and return to your herding. I will seek you out tomorrow with the news, if there is any to tell.”

  “I thank you, Cousin in Black. It is true that while I am away, the herds wander afield, the sheep particularly.”

  The crow bobs its head. “They are-are-are quite stupid. I will come at dusk tomorrow,” he promises.

  Hearing these words, I turn around and begin the long run back to our home to the north. I arrive just as the sun falls below Mount Nerito and the shadows begin to creep over the fields. One ewe has wandered off, but I bring her back quickly to the fold. In my master’s house torches are lit, and the nightly revelry of the suitors has begun. Oh, the shame they bring to the house of Odysseus! Surely my master will return soon and drive those hateful men away. Even the Cyclopes could not be worse than these insolent men.

  At dusk the next day a shadow falls over my shoulder as I lead the sheep into their paddocks. How long this day has felt while I wait for news of my master! I cannot even be certain that the teals saw him, though they fly from the east, and giants and teals both need fresh water. If the land of the Cyclopes has lakes on it, then surely the teals landed there. Yet how flimsy my logic seems as the day passes slowly by.

  Seeing the shadow, I look up and watch the winged crow alight on the roof of the paddock. When the sheep are bedded down, I rush back outside. The crow is waiting.

  “Welcome to the home of Odysseus, Sir Crow,” I call up to him. “Do you bring news of my master?”

  “I do, Boar Slayer. If the teals can be trusted, I have your story, though it is a terrible one.”

  I feel as if a spear has passed through my heart.

  “My master lives, does he not? Tell me that at once, crow!”

  The crow lands on a low branch.

  “Sit back on your haunches, Ar-ar-argos,” says the crow. “I will tell you what I heard.”

  This is the teals’ story.

  My master and his men landed on a wooded island, as strange a land as any teal has seen. There the people of Cyclopes live not like other men, for they neither plow nor plant, and they live in the many caves that dot the island. They neither farm nor fish, because the immortal gods watch over them and give them their needs. There are many goats on the island and the wheat and barley and grapes grow with no hindrance, so the people of Cyclopes plan little and live apart from one another, needing no counsels, and each one is his own law, and thus they are lawless.

  A short flight beyond this island was another island, where the teals saw my master and his men find harbor. It was full of wild goats and there was bright water to drink; yet again no men had farmed its pastures or planted crops, neither did they cast nets, so the ponds were full of fish for the teals to eat.

  There brave Odysseus and his men from the twelve ships spent the day and the night, feasting on meat and drinking sweet wine. The next morning the Wily One took only the twelve men from his own ship and sailed round the island to learn of its natives, whether they were savage and violent or hospitable to strangers. The teals followed his ship, hoping to steal fish from their nets, but after my master had sailed a short distance, he spied a cave hidden with laurels, and there wer
e great flocks of sheep and goats behind a high wall, built among large boulders strewn about. Herding the great flocks was a one-eyed monster.

  The teals say this monster had but a single eye in the center of his face and was as tall as the peak of a mountain, so that my master and his men seemed to shrink in wonder at his great size. But brave Odysseus fears no one, and so he and his men lightly made their way to the cave.

  When they arrived, the monster had left to herd his fat flocks on the range, so my master and his men entered the cave unbidden to see what manner of man this monster was. Inside the cave were giant baskets of cheese, and there were pens crowded with lambs and kids, as well as cisterns overflowing with milk. My master’s men wanted to take the lambs and kids back to the ship and sail away, but the Wily One thought the monster might have more to give them. So they made a fire and waited for the monster to return.

  He arrived carrying a heavy load of firewood, which he threw onto the floor of the cave with such force that it sent the men scattering into the dark recesses of the cave to hide. Then he brought in his giant flocks and put them in pens, and finally he rolled a giant boulder across the door to keep out intruders, though what manner of intruder would dare enter that cave, one can only guess. Then he milked his flock and built a fire, at which point he saw my master and his men.

  “Strangers,” he asked, “who are you? Are you lawless pirates, bringing evil to this land?”

  “We are Achaians coming from Troy, driven off course by the winds, and making our way home as best we can,” said brave Odysseus. “We are followers of Agamemnon, whose fame is great throughout Achaia. Through the will of Zeus, we have landed here, and we ask on bended knee that you give us a guest present, as men do in our land, in honor of Zeus. That is what the gods demand of all, O mightiest of men.”

  But the monster was pitiless to their plight. “Stranger, you are a fool. The Cyclopes do not fear Zeus or any of the gods, for we are better than they. I could kill you now and think nothing of it. But tell me, is your ship near or far off? I ask so that I may help you get aboard it and leave us in peace before my brothers learn of you, for they shall show you no mercy.”

  No man or monster is more cunning than my master, who replied, “Alas, no. Poseidon, shaker of the earth, drove my ship against the rocks, and we are stranded here for a time. Only my men you see here survived.”

  But instead of showing brave Odysseus pity at his tale, the monster suddenly snatched two of his men and hurled them against the ground, killing them. Then, to my master’s horror, he tore them limb by limb and ate the remains, washing the terrible meal down with great buckets of goat milk. Brave Odysseus and his men cried out to Zeus in despair, but the god answered not, and they could do nothing but wring their hands in mourning while the monster lay down to sleep, sprawled out among them.

  Once the monster began to snore with deafening rattles, my master took out his sword and thought to stab the great beast in the heart, but just as he was about to strike, he realized that the great boulder blocking the entrance to the cave was too large for his men together to roll aside, and they would be trapped in the cave. So they could do nothing that night except pray to the gods and wring their hands in mourning until the dawn came.

  “But how did the teals know this?” I asked the crow when he told me his tale. “Were the teals in the cave with the monster and my master?”

  The crow had asked that also. He said that the teals had told him that the monster kept chickens in his cave and the small ones passed in and out between the giant stone and the cave’s entrance. It was they who told the teals of the events inside.

  “But perhaps it isn’t true,” I demanded, fearing for my master. “Surely no such monster exists!”

  Then the crow turned his head to look at me, and I could see in his black eyes that this was no lie.

  The teal’s story continued. As dawn’s light crept through the cracks of the Cyclops’s cave, the monster woke and made a fire. After that he milked his goats, and then, just as my master hoped he would roll aside the great boulder, the monster snatched up two men and ate them for breakfast, ignoring the screams of despair and outrage of my master’s men.

  After he had dined, the monster rolled aside the great boulder so that he could let his sheep out to graze, but he stood by the door watching to make sure that Odysseus and his men did not escape. Then he rolled the boulder back across as he left, leaving them trapped inside.

  My master was left with his black thoughts of how he might avenge his men while the monster whistled to his flocks, guiding them to the pastures beyond the cave. Before the fire that had been lit could burn out, brave Odysseus found a wooden club the monster had left to dry. It was nearly as long as the mast on a ship of twenty oars, but my master and his men chopped it until it was the height of a man so that they could lift it. Then my master set to sharpening its end into a fine point while the rest of his men made it smooth.

  When that job was done, the men, fearing that the monster might return at any moment, put the point of the spear into the fire to harden it. Finally, when the tip had turned black, they hid the spear and prayed to the gods they would have the chance to use it. As the men rested from their labors, they drew lots to decide who would help brave Odysseus spear the monster while he slept that night.

  When the evening came, the monster rolled back the stone carefully so that no one could escape, and he brought in his goats and sheep from their pasturing. After that, he milked the goats and sheep, filling his great bucket, and when his work was done, he snatched two of my master’s men and ate them. Then did my master approach the monster and say, “Here, Cyclops, now that you have committed so terrible a thing as to eat human flesh, drink this wine from our ship. I brought it for you as a gift yesterday, before your cruelty, but now drink of it and take pity on us.”

  So the monster took the great wine skins and drank them dry, and he was terribly pleased at its taste, for he demanded more.

  “Give it freely,” he thundered, “and tell me your name so that I may also give you a gift.” But my master, the Wily One, did not trust the monster; instead he gave him more wine, until he was certain the monster’s brain was addled with it, for no five men could drink that quantity and still stand. Then my master spoke. “Cyclops, you ask me my name and I will tell you, but you must then give me the gift you have promised. Nobody is my name. My father and my mother call me Nobody, as do all my companions.”

  So the Wily One spoke, but the monster was pitiless and said, “My gift, then, is that I shall eat Nobody last, after I have eaten his men. That is my gift to you!” He laughed, and his joy was terrible to behold. And after he said this, the giant lay back and then slumped onto his bedding, asleep.

  Then brave Odysseus brought out the great spear from its hiding place, and they heated the tip in the fire until it glowed bright. After speaking words of courage to his men, my master dragged the spear from the fire, and together they lifted it above their shoulders and charged, thrusting it into the monster’s eye, where it sizzled with the sound of a crashing wave.

  The monster gave a horrible cry and flailed his massive arms, but my master and his men ducked his grasp and hid in the shadows. With a groan the monster tore the timber from his eye, and it bubbled with blood. Then he cried out to the other Cyclopes who lived nearby, and they came running to his cave.

  “Why, Polyphemus, do you cry out? Why have you made us sleepless tonight? Surely no mortal can be stealing your flock! Surely none can kill you by force!” they called from outside.

  Then, from inside the cave, monstrous Polyphemus answered: “My brothers! Nobody is killing me by force! Nobody!”

  “If, as you say, nobody has hurt you, then pray to your father, Lord Poseidon, to make you well!” they jeered at him. Then they left and returned to their caves, paying no more heed to the monster’s cries, so the mighty Cyclops rolled aside the great boulder that blocked his door and sat down in the entrance himself, spreading his arm
s to catch anyone who tried to escape. But my master had thought of this and tied the rams together in groups of three, and his men clung to the belly of the middle sheep, and though the Cyclops felt all around the backs of the rams as they left the cave, he did not catch the men hiding beneath. Then, when his men had all escaped, my master seized the wool under the largest ram, and though the monster groped the ram’s back, he felt not underneath, and my master escaped.

  Hurriedly they made their way down the rocky trail to the beach where their ship was moored, driving the monster’s sheep ahead of them. Once on board, they quickly gathered their oars and began to row. Through the rose-colored dawn, my master could see the monster standing at the entrance to his cave, turning his head from side to side, although blind he was, and bloody.

  “Cyclops!” my master yelled. “Your evil deeds catch up to you who dared to eat his guests, so Zeus and the other gods have punished you!”

  Angered by these words, the monster tore off the top of a mountain and let it fly, where it landed just in front of my master’s boat, and the wave it made washed my master and his men back onto the shore. But my master, using a long pole, pushed the boat back into deeper water, and he urged his men quietly to lean hard on their oars, and they cut through the sea.

  One they were past the shore, my master made as if to call out to the monster again, and his men checked him, crying, “Hardheaded one, why do you seek to enrage that monster? He nearly finished us with his last missile and he could break our ship’s timbers, so strong is his throwing!”

  So they spoke, the teals report, but my master had anger in his heart and cried out, “Cyclops, if any man asks you who it was that inflicted upon your eye that shameful blinding, tell him you were blinded by Odysseus, sacker of cities, son of Laertes, who makes his home in Ithaka!”

  Hearing this, the monster groaned and answered him thus: