Argos

by Ralph Hardy

  “So say the birds, the sea turtles, the bats. And I believe them too, Argos, but my master is inside his house now, and I must guard his herds.”

  “Three old oxen, two sheep, and a goat is not a herd! At my master’s farm we have hundreds of oxen, sheep, goats, and swine to shepherd.”

  “One day he too will own much livestock, Argos. I have heard my master talking about it to a man by the harbor. Then our offspring and I will have plenty to eat and dozens of lambs and kids to guard and lead to pasture. He has said so himself!”

  And so my mate will not leave, and I, almost daily, make the trek to her master’s farm, watching her belly swell and waiting for her time to come. When it does, it happens at night, under a bush, instead of in a warm barn, where even the lesser dogs on our land give birth.

  And I am not there.

  But today I race to see her. I find her nursing six puppies and resting in the sun. Aurora’s eyes are closed in maternal bliss and exhaustion, and she barely stirs when I lick her cheek. I had carried in my mouth a meaty lamb bone, and I lay it on the ground next to her, and then I stand guard, against what I do not know, but I am Argos, the Boar Slayer, loyal mate to Aurora, and sire of six blind, mewling puppies, five of them black as I am, and one tawny and full of mischief.

  What else am I supposed to do?

  Three years ago, on a black and storm-tossed night, my mistress promised the suitors that she would wed one of them once she finished weaving the funeral shroud for her father-in-law, Laertes, who grows older and more infirm every day. I have not seen the shroud, but it must be wondrous, as my mistress is the cleverest woman on Ithaka. How she labors on it through the cold, dark nights! She is a queen, and yet I have more freedom; the entire estate belongs to me, as does Ithaka itself.

  Tonight the suitors left early. A storm was coming and they did not wish to be caught in it, so they left just after they finished their honey and figs. Luna was covered in clouds, so they had to walk back to their own homes by torchlight. I can only hope they trip and stumble on their way. When the last suitor has left, I enter the hall, and for a moment watch the servants clean the last of the plates. I must admit I hope for a few scraps, and some come my way. Then I climb the stairs that lead to the corridor that ends in my mistress Penelope’s room. Across from her bedroom is the room where she sews. I want to see her. I had not licked her hand in several days, nor had she scratched my ears, and I miss her gentle touch.

  There is one obstacle before me, though. Melantho, one of her servants, is a jealous older woman; she resents anyone who comes close to my mistress, two legged or four. How many times have I heard her scold a servant girl for simply entering the room where my mistress was sitting. As I am four legged and beloved by my mistress, I am doubly despised. But I have come upstairs for another reason beyond merely a chance to lick my mistress’s hand before she retires for the night: when the suitors left to avoid the storm, one had remained. And I smell him upstairs.

  Melantho is there too. She has a broom in her hand and tries to block my way, but since when did a stick with straw on one end deter me?

  “Back, vile dog!” she cries. “Go back or I’ll make you sleep with the pigs!” And then she spits on me.

  Argos the Boar Slayer does not heed insults from servants. Or anyone. Still, I wonder why I hear panic in her voice. Does she have something to hide? I lunge at her—never intending to bite, though—and she steps back. As I lunge again, a coin falls from her hand, and she steps on it frantically. Then, just as I press against her leg to make her move her foot, Zeus sends a thunderbolt crashing down near the barn. The storm has come.

  A sudden breeze blows through the corridor and extinguishes the two candles lighting the hall, and we are plunged into darkness. I hear my mistress cry out from the sewing room, but is it the sound of the thunder that frightened her, or something else? The breeze also brings the scent of the suitor. I leave Melantho and run down the corridor, but I do not growl. Black death should come silently.

  I reach the end of the corridor and stop. My mistress is to my right, in the sewing room. To my left, in mistress Penelope’s bedroom, I smell the intruder, but the wooden door is closed. I rear onto my hind legs and press against it, but it will not open. Then I bark to warn my mistress. Behind me, Melantho screams, “The black demon has gone mad! Out, Argos! Leave this house!”

  A moment later, my mistress Penelope appears from the sewing room. A small candle in that room adds a gloomy light to the hall.

  “Argos, what is it? What do you smell? Who is in my room?” she asks.

  Again, I lunge at the door. Again, a bolt of lightning crashes.

  My mistress reaches for the latch and begins to lift it. Then two things happen. Melantho reaches us and, taking the latch in her own hand, swings open the door. I jump up against my mistress—forgive me, master—and push her down. I hear a bowstring hum, and an arrow hits the wall just over my mistress Penelope’s shoulder. Then I turn and leap into the room just as the intruder himself jumps out the window. I hear him cry out in pain from the fall, and then I run out of the room, dodging Melantho and my mistress, and bound down the stairs.

  The intruder, if he can run at all, will be heading for the harbor, where he can find places to hide. But he has not gone far. I find him beneath the window from which he had leaped. He cannot run. His leg is broken. I stand over him in the darkness, barking, until my master’s guards reach us, followed by my mistress Penelope. Then Telemachos, roused by the commotion, joins us. I stand by him. Lightning strikes again, opening the sky for rain. In the flash, though, I recognize the assailant: Lestorides, an oafish, bald man with a scraggly beard who is quick to use coins to get his way, since he has no charm of his own.

  The guards begin to question him. “Why did you attack our mistress?” they demand.

  He laughs as only a doomed man can. “Why not ask the queen?” he says. “She knows the truth. And now we do too, for Melantho told us how you weave the shroud for King Laertes every night, and unravel it during the day.”

  Then he raises his fist toward my queen. “For three years she has done this while we wait like fools for her to finish. Well, I could wait no longer. I wanted to see the shroud myself and bring proof to my comrades that the queen is a liar!”

  “Take him from my sight!” my mistress demands.

  “But how did he reach your room, my queen?” asks one of the guards.

  Then I remembered the coin that fell from Melantho’s grasp, and it comes together. Lestorides bribed her to let him into my mistress’s room!

  Where is Melantho now?

  I bark twice and then tug on Telemachos’s arm.

  “Queen Mother, Argos wants something!” he says.

  “The Boar Slayer saved my life tonight. Go with him, Telemachos. You, too,” she says to one of the guards.

  I lead Telemachos and the guard back around to the front of the house. From there I begin the chase. I find Melantho easily enough. She is running wildly, purposelessly, with thoughts only of escape. From there, it is just a matter of steering her where I want her to go. I cut her off in one direction, forcing her to run in another. Back and forth I drive her, letting her think she has escaped me before I reappear beside her. Finally she has no choice. To avoid my teeth, she climbs the fence and enters the pigsty.

  “Sows!” I call. “She is here to steal your piglets!”

  Thus did Melantho, who betrayed my queen, sleep with the pigs.

  CHAPTER XXXI

  Bitter life

  For the last ten days I have been shepherding on the farthest reaches of my master’s land. Every spring we move the sheep there to fatten on the grassy slopes of the valley, and I have to stay with the sheepherder in a nearby cave, far from my master’s palace. And far from Aurora and my children. We spent our last afternoon together naming them. The three black females we called Alloria, Astra, and Zephyrus. The two black males we named Castor and Pollux, after the twin demigods, since neither their mother n
or I could tell them apart.

  “But what shall we name the golden one?” I asked my mate as the pup tackled his brothers and chewed his sisters’ tails. “He is full of fire, isn’t he?”

  “Let us wait to name him, Argos,” Aurora said. “For one day, his name will be known far and wide, as is yours today. Of this I am certain.”

  “As you wish,” I said, placing my paw on No Name’s chest to give his sisters a respite. A few minutes later, I left to make the long run back to my master’s estate.

  To wait ten days without seeing my family is unbearable. Not since the pain of my master’s departure for war against the Trojans began to ebb have I felt such loneliness. I have taken out my frustration on the sheep, snapping at them when they wander off and barking at them when they take too long to leave the corral. But soon we will be done here, and I will see Aurora and my offspring. It is time they learn to shepherd and for the golden one to learn to hunt.

  I am returning from the farthest sheep pasture when a seagull swoops low over my master’s palace. I run to where he circles high above the estate and call out to him, “Seagull, do you have news of my master?”

  “Nay, loyal one,” he calls back. “But run to the harbor as fast as your black legs will carry you. There is mischief afoot!”

  The sharp-eyed gulls have been minding the affairs of humanfolk from the skies since the gods made them, so I run across the courtyard and dash down the path that leads to the harbor. As I draw closer, I hear it: above the noise of the seamen loading ships, the cries of the waterbirds as they dive for fish, and the pulse of the sea crashing against the rocks, Aurora’s strangled bark.

  I crest the last ridge before the hillside plunges down to the shore, and see her. She is tied around the neck to the mast of a red ship with a thick rope. Men are seated at their oarlocks, waiting for their cadence call, and their sail is inching its way up. It is a yellow sail, and it flaps loudly in the wind. Next to Aurora, my children are piled into wooden chests. I can see only their heads and front paws as they strain to escape. I bark, but the wind carries my words away. As I run down to the harbor, I notice Aurora’s owner walking along the shore. I see the glint of copper coins in his hands. He has sold my family!

  I run faster than I have ever in my life, slipping and clawing down the trail that leads to the harbor, but I know as I sprint toward the dock that I am too late. Already the ship’s rowmaster has set the rhythm, and the sail is catching wind. I can hear Aurora’s panicked bark through the crashing of the waves and the shouts of the sailors. A fisherman slings his net at me, but I scamper under the mesh. A jetty runs parallel to the sea for a short distance, and I run toward it. I have to get closer to Aurora!

  I am known throughout Ithaka, and so a dozen men or more try to catch me, perhaps thinking there will be a reward for my return. I dodge a few and bite a few more as they try to block my way. Finally I reach the rocky jetty and jump up onto it. I can see Aurora straining at her rope, but it is a thick sailor’s rope, woven from many strands. Only the sharpest sword could cut it. One of my puppies has managed to escape the crate and is clumsily walking across the deck toward her. I dash along the jetty, barking for Aurora—just calling her name—for what else can I tell her to do? She is tied tightly, and already there is blue sea between the end of the jetty and the ship. I see her tug against the rope fiercely, even turning around and backing up so she can pull with her strong rear legs. I can see blood on her neck. Her eyes are wild and desperate. She barks something, but I cannot hear it.

  “Aurora!” I howl. I’ve reached the end of the jetty. The next thing to do is jump. Although I know I could never catch the ship, into the depths of Poseidon’s domain I plunge.

  I dive in from the jetty and begin to paddle, but the incoming tide is so strong that I can barely swim against it. Waves crash around my head. One swell lifts me, and for a brief moment, I can just see the ship with Aurora and my pups barking from the deck.

  Then a wave buries my head, pushing me under. I struggle to swim forward, but Poseidon sends wave after wave carrying me to shore, and there I wash up, half dead. A group of fishermen carry me from the breakers and lay me on the sand. They press my chest, and life enters my lungs.

  Life without Aurora.

  Life without my offspring.

  Bitter life.

  I close my eyes. Sometime later I hear the swineherd Eumaios’s voice and feel his strong arms beneath my head. Then I hear a cry, and I turn and see Telemachos running toward me. What burning shame I feel as he hugs my wet neck and kisses my face. How could I have thought to leave him? Was he not my charge? Did not my master expect me to guard his only son with my life?

  I rise unsteadily to my feet. Over Telemachos’s shoulder I see the seagull that had called me to the harbor. He will not look at me; his head is buried in his wing.

  “Come, Argos,” Eumaios says gently. “Let us leave this cursed shore that has taken so many of our loved ones, never to return.”

  They did not know that my children were lost on this terrible shore as well.

  “Don’t say that!” Telemachos cries. “My father will come back any day now!”

  “Truly, that is so, young Telemachos. If any man can return, it is your father. Tonight we will make an offering to Zeus that Odysseus and his swift ship appear on the horizon soon.”

  Then together we climb the trail back up to my master’s home. At the highest vantage point, we all stop to look out over the blue sea. I see no tall masts; Aurora’s ship has already disappeared, and my master is still far away, and I know not where or how or when he will return.

  As we turn toward our land, I see a man leading a small flock of lambs in the distance. I sniff the air and confirm what my eyes tell me: the man had been Aurora’s master. He sold her and the puppies to buy the lambs, and he is now taking them back to his farm. I freeze.

  “Come, Boar Slayer,” Telemachos says. “It grows late, and Mother will be worried.” He tugs on my neck, and I reluctantly follow.

  Later that night, after we have brought all the livestock in and the suitors have left, I run away. Luna is bright, and she guides my steps. Soon I reach Aurora’s farm. There is a candle lit in her master’s small house, and the heavy wooden door is barred shut, just as I knew it would be.

  In a few minutes I chew through the leather cord that keeps his gate closed, and I scatter his small herd in every direction. I care not their fate; most will be taken onto other farms, and those left will meet the wolves. Then I tell one large goat to stand by the window and bleat loudly. After a few minutes I hear the door bar being raised and the door swings open.

  Then I go inside.

  CHAPTER XXXII

  A visitor arrives

  A moment ago, a stranger arrived at our gate. He is tall and beardless, dressed in fine clothes, and carries a long spear of bronze. I watch the stranger closely because he has no smell, and I wonder, What manner of man is this who smells not of sweat? I bark once at the man, but I do not bare my teeth, and then I run to where Telemachos is sitting in the hall, regarding warily the suitors who have already begun to drink my master’s wine, though it is scarcely past midday. Together we approach the stranger at the entrance, and Telemachos greets him with courtesy, for he is well-bred.

  “Welcome to our house, stranger,” Telemachos says, bowing slightly.

  “I thank thee, Telemachos, son of the noble Odysseus,” replies the stranger.

  Again I sniff the stranger’s feet, but he smells not of men or of anything I have known, and yet I am not afraid for Telemachos.

  “Tell me,” the man says, “is there a wedding today? For I see many men who are not in the fields, nor hunting game. Where is the bride?”

  And Telemachos lowers his head so the man does not see his anger and shame. Then he says, “Stranger, what you say is true. There is no wedding today. Nor yesterday or the day before or tomorrow. These indolent men you see here do little work and hunt even less. Instead, they come here to my
father’s house—my father whose bones some say lie whitening on the mainland or under the waves—and eat his sustenance, making us poorer by the day. If my father were to come back, then they would be light on their feet, running back to their own farms and houses, but he has perhaps died by evil fate and will not return, and they know it.”

  The stranger shakes his head in sorrow and places his hand on Telemachos’s shoulder.

  “I grieve for you and your noble mother,” he says. “Surely the gods will reward your loyalty one bright day.”

  Telemachos raises his head. “I thank you, stranger. But tell me, what is your name and where are you from? What ship did you come on, for I have not seen a new one in the harbor? And where are the sailors? And tell me this as well, what brought you to Ithaka? Did you know my father?”

  Then the stranger replies, “You have many questions, loyal son of Odysseus, and I will answer them truthfully as I can. My name is Mentes, son of Achialos, and my ship is in the small harbor at the north of your island. Your father and I knew each other from long back. In fact, we are distantly related, and Laertes, your grandfather, would vouch for me if he could, though he is old now and may not remember me.”

  Hearing this, Telemachos takes the stranger’s hand in his and says, “Welcome then, Mentes. My home is yours. I only wish my father himself were here to greet you.”

  Saying this, my master’s son begins to weep, and I lick his hand to comfort him. Then the stranger, Mentes, draws closer and whispers into Telemachos’s ear. “Hear me, loyal son of Odysseus. Death has not found your father on some distant land. Listen to my prophecy. He will return sooner than men think, for is he not the Wily One? Already he plans his return, and nothing will delay him long.”

  My master returns soon? Should I believe this gray-eyed stranger?

  I sit on my haunches and wait to hear more. But Telemachos, at these words, falls to his knees, to kiss the stranger’s feet.