Argos

by Simpson, Phillip

  I must have been about six months old when Odysseus began my training. As he had mentioned to Amycus, Odysseus had selected me because he not only wanted a companion for his wife and son but a solid and reliable hunting dog.

  When he was on the island, we spent as much time together as his duties allowed. At first, he taught me basic commands. I think he was amazed how quickly I caught on but it’s easy when you understand human language. “Stay”, “come,” “attack,” “wait,” were all mastered within minutes. We quickly moved on to more advanced commands and even Amycus, who came out of his kennels to watch us from time to time, registered grudging respect for my abilities.

  Shortly after, Odysseus took me on my first hunt. I was unbelievably excited by the prospect of accompanying him. Odysseus had been out hunting many times before without me and I had been disappointed to be left behind. I always knew when he was about to go hunting. He would whistle as he slowly gathered his hunting equipment, sharpening and checking everything carefully. Each time I would look at him and raise my ears hopefully. Each time the response was the same.

  “No, Argos,” he would say. “You are too young. You stay here and look after Penelope and Telemachus. Soon you will come with me, but not today.”

  But today had come. Finally, I would hunt with my master.

  My excitement mounted as I saw Odysseus gather his hunting equipment. I planted myself in front of him so he had no choice but to notice me and wagged my tail. Our eyes met and I saw his mouth slowly twist into a grin. “Yes, Argos. Today. Today you will go hunting with me.”

  I believe I was born to hunt. I was certainly bred to hunt. Both my mother and father were fine hunting dogs, but I think the desire to please my master elevated me to new heights. Not only that, I was fast. Faster than all the other dogs from the palace kennels. Odysseus had named me well. It was a trait that gave Odysseus great pride. I think he was looking forward to taking me hunting as much as I was looking forward to going.

  I could hardly control my excitement as Odysseus loaded his spears and other equipment onto his horse. It was just before dawn but I could tell that the weather would be clear. A perfect day.

  Other men were saddling up around him. I recognized Eumaeus and two other men that Odysseus counted as his companions. With them were three other members of Odysseus’ household guard.

  Eumaeus was Odysseus’ constant companion and closest friend. I had heard his story from one of the palace servants. Although only a lowly swineherd, he was actually of noble blood. His father, Ktesios, son of Ormenos, had been king of an island called Syria. As a child, he had been kidnapped by a Phoenician sailor and sold to Odysseus’ father, Laertes. Although purchased as a slave, Eumaeus was raised alongside Odysseus and was considered almost his equal.

  “And what are we hunting today, my lord Odysseus?” asked Eumaeus.

  “Same as we always do,” replied Odysseus, grinning with anticipation. “Boar.”

  “You do realize,” said Eumaeus, “that you are rapidly depleting the stock of boar on the island?”

  Odysseus nodded, adjusting the harness on his horse. “I know that. That’s why I have had two score wild boars delivered. They were set free last week.”

  The most common form of wildlife on Ithaca was goats—both domesticated and wild. Often Odysseus would return from a hunt empty handed other than a few wild goats he had killed with his spears. It was better than nothing, but it always put my master in a foul mood. In an effort to lighten it, he imported boar from his neighbors.

  It was his one luxury, his one indulgence. Penelope knew this and never questioned the extravagance.

  “I wondered why that ship was in the harbor,” mused Eumaeus. “I didn’t see them unload anything though.”

  “That’s because I had them offload their cargo under cover of darkness,” said Odysseus. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Surprise me or you?” asked Eumaeus. “You’re the huntsman. I daresay you had them set free in darkness so that you wouldn’t get a hint of where they were going.”

  Odysseus laughed. “You know me too well, my friend,” he said, mounting his horse. “Are you ready?”

  Eumaeus nodded. “I noticed you are bringing Argos today,” he said, looking down at me where I obediently sat next to Odysseus’ horse.

  “You are as observant as you are wise, Eumaeus,” said Odysseus. “Next you’ll be telling me that the sun will rise soon.”

  “He’s a fine looking dog but he is young. And the only dog you are taking today. Is that wise? Do you think he is ready?”

  “More ready than a swineherd I could name. Don’t you worry about Argos. He is the finest dog I have ever owned. I need no other. I have less concern about him than I do about you.” The other men chuckled and I saw Eumaeus smile easily.

  “Now less talk, more riding,” said Odysseus eagerly. “We have boars to hunt!”

  The horses galloped off. I kept pace easily, running at my master’s side. Odysseus led us toward the interior of the island. Now, many consider my master’s kingdom of the island of Ithaca to be less than ideal. It was rocky and mountainous. All but the inhabitants thought it inhospitable.

  Higher in the mountains, away from the human inhabitants and their farms, shrubs grew denser, providing food and shelter for the wild boar. Odysseus knew this and led us up and along a rocky game trail. We continued to climb until the rocky terrain made riding untenable and Odysseus gave the order to dismount. Odysseus, Eumaeus, and the other men tied their horses to a nearby cypress tree and collected their weapons.

  “Argos,” Odysseus commanded. “Seek.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice. I had been like a coiled spring ready to unfold but had restrained my impulses to run ahead because that wasn’t what Odysseus had wanted. Now, given the order to find boar, I shot forward like an arrow from a bow. I sprang ahead with swift bounds, quickly leaving my human companions behind.

  After hurtling around the nearby shrubs like a dog possessed, I eventually found tracks and sniffed eagerly. There was no mistaking it. Boar. Given that they were my favorite meal, I knew their smell intimately. I began salivating, already imagining a juicy bone.

  Nose to the ground, I followed the tracks further and further away from my hunting companions but I was committed. There was no turning back. Only a command from Odysseus would make me stop my relentless pursuit.

  I realized after a time that I was definitely getting closer. The tracks were incredibly fresh. The scent of boar was so strong; I could almost taste it. But there was something else, another scent mixed in. It was definitely boar but combined with some strange element that raised my hackles and curled my lip in a snarl.

  The tracks looped around and headed back in the direction I had come. Sneaky boar. Say what you like but they do possess a certain low cunning. They must have smelt me and, knowing I was on their trail, doubled back.

  Unfortunately, this led the boar straight into the path of the hunters. Now, under normal conditions, this would’ve been ideal. The role of a good hunting dog is to scare the prey and herd them toward the waiting humans. But normal conditions mean that the hunter is mounted on horseback. To face a large, furious male boar on foot was considered suicide.

  Odysseus knew that but he also liked a challenge. He believed, somewhat unwisely, that the true test of a hunter was to confront a boar on foot. Privately, most of his men disagreed with him, but he was king and to argue with the king was not good for your career prospects.

  Racing back toward Odysseus and his companions, I heard shouts. My heart hammering with excitement, I doubled my efforts and emerged suddenly in a small clearing just in time to witness an epic struggle.

  I took a moment to assess the situation. If I had been a normal dog, I would have raced in headfirst, regardless of the consequences. For better or worse, the bravery of dogs is truly without peer. In this situation, it would’ve been better if I had not paused. My hesitation came at great cost.

  A
great boar loomed large before me in the clearing. I had seen prize boars brought back from Odysseus’ hunts but they were midgets in comparison. This boar was as big as a donkey with tusks longer than a short stabbing spear. There was definitely something extraordinary about this boar; the source of the strangeness I had sensed earlier.

  Dappled sunlight glistened on the boar’s tusks. They were no longer white, however, but stained red. Red droplets splashed into the puddle of blood beneath the boar’s massive hoofs. A human body lay on the ground before it, unmoving. I recognized him as one of the palace guards.

  There was only one other figure in the clearing. Odysseus, teeth bared and killing spear poised to strike, determined to drive the boar away from the injured, or possibly dead, man. Before he could however, the boar sprang with a speed almost too swift to follow. Unnaturally fast.

  Odysseus was quick. Although he wasn’t the tallest of men, he was broad, barrel chested, strong, and powerful. His lower center of gravity gave him stability that other men sometimes lacked. He was also well-trained and seasoned by battle. He dodged to the side, trying to strike with his spear at the same time. It was a move I’d seen him practice many times. From hearing his talk with the other men, it was also a move that never failed.

  Unbelievably, it did this time.

  Somehow, the boar avoided the spear and reared up its ugly head, catching Odysseus in his left thigh with one terrible tusk.

  I had hesitated long enough. My master was in danger. Regardless of the risk, I would fight and if necessary, die for him. I launched myself at the boar, planning to hamstring the great beast with one bite of my powerful jaws but all I snapped was empty air.

  The boar whirled with phenomenal speed to face me. Behind it, Odysseus lay gasping on the ground, clutching his thigh. To his credit, he did not cry out. He still held his spear in his free hand.

  The boar and I eyed one another. It towered above me. As I snarled in defiance, it roared, and I saw a glint of something unusual in its eyes—an intelligence that I had never encountered before in another animal. Having lost my advantage, the prospect of meeting this creature head to head was truly daunting.

  The boar charged. I tried to get underneath its mighty head and get to the throat but it was too quick and too smart for that. It lowered its head and my jaws collided with staggering force. Thrown through the air, I smashed into a nearby tree and heard a snap as I thudded to the ground, my breath completely knocked out of me. Desperate to get back into the fight and help my master, I tried to stand but there was something wrong with my leg. It didn’t seem to be working properly.

  Not that I gave it much thought as I hobbled back into the fray. The boar had turned its attention back to Odysseus. He tried to rise, but was crippled by his thigh injury. The boar dodged his spear thrust and moved in for the kill.

  There was only one thing I could do. I threw myself in front of Odysseus just in time to meet the thrust of the boar’s tusks. Both speared into my body. I howled in anguish, momentarily distracting the beast. Despite my pain, I watched as Odysseus, like all good warriors, seized the opportunity. Using his spear as a crutch, he rose to his feet, changing his grip as he did so. As the boar tried to shake me off its tusks, Odysseus gave a great roar and thrust his spear into the creature’s eye.

  The boar squealed in pain, shaking its head to dislodge the shaft and throwing me to the ground instead. Luckily for Odysseus, Eumaeus and the other members of the hunting party arrived just at that pivotal moment. Together, they speared the creature in the other eye, blinding it. Even wounded, it still managed to cripple another of Odysseus’ companions before it gave its last gasp, resembling a grotesque porcupine with over ten spears piercing its hide.

  Odysseus always maintained that the boar had not been of this world. He even went so far as to suggest it was born of Hades. He will get no argument from me there.

  Somehow I still lived. The boar’s tusks had miraculously missed any vital organs but I had lost a great deal of blood.

  Along with the dead man and his injured companion, I was taken back to the horses. Odysseus himself carried me in his arms as we rode with haste back to the palace. He was injured badly, but when the healers arrived in the main hall, Odysseus, pale from lack of blood, waved them away with “I’m fine. See to the dog first.”

  Penelope, ashen faced, ensured that Odysseus was taken care of despite his protests. Eumaeus and the other men clustered anxiously nearby but it was clear that Odysseus would live. His thigh wound was deep and would leave an impressive scar but the tusk had failed to sever a major artery. A healer examined and cleaned it, declaring that it would be best to leave it open to drain. He would sew it up and bind it with linen later.

  Odysseus rose unsteadily and moved to my side. The healer and an assistant were preparing to lift me, and had already rolled me onto a blanket.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Odysseus.

  “The palace is not a seemly place to treat a dog,” said the healer, a fat bearded man with fingers heavy with gold rings. “Especially in the presence of the king. I will treat this animal in more appropriate quarters or perhaps not at all. If my instincts are correct, it will be dead by the time we reach our destination. It might be easier, my lord, to dispose of the body now rather than waste precious materials on a lost cause.”

  Odysseus hit him. Hard. His fist collided with the healer’s heavy face with a solid thump. One moment the healer was standing, the next he was lying on the terracotta floor clutching his cheek in shocked outrage.

  “This dog is called Argos,” said Odysseus, biting back his rage through gritted teeth. “He saved my life and is worth ten of you. He is not a lost cause and I will tell you why. If he dies, then so do you. If I was you, I would use every single one of your precious materials on him because you won’t be needing them in Hades.”

  Odysseus turned to Eumaeus. “Make sure this sack of wine has everything he needs. He is not to leave this spot. If Argos dies, kill him. If Argos lives, strip him of his wealth, beat him, and throw him on the next slave ship.”

  Eumaeus nodded curtly. “It will be done, my lord.”

  Chapter Five

  I came very close to death but fortunately for the healer, I began to heal, clinging to life more for Odysseus’ sake than mine. His tormented face hovered over me anxiously; the thought of him grieving for me was more than I could bear.

  The terrified healer used catgut stitches to stop the worst of the bleeding and set and bandaged my broken leg. To my surprise, I was not taken to some out of the way room to recuperate in private, but to Odysseus’ and Penelope’s own bedchamber. I hardly thought that Odysseus would send me back to the kennels, but his own sleeping quarters? That was both a great surprise and an incredible honor. He carried me in himself, hobbling on his injured leg, refusing to let anyone else help. Long ago, Odysseus had sworn that no man but himself would ever see the bed he shared with Penelope. Evidentially, male dogs did not count.

  “Will he live?” asked Penelope, her beautiful face creased with worry.

  “That is for the gods to decide,” said Odysseus. “But if the gods are just, he will.”

  “When have you known the gods to be just?” countered Penelope.

  “There is always a first time,” said Odysseus, his mouth set in a grim line. He busied himself around me, bringing my goatskin bed in from the hallway and setting it down next to Telemachus’ cot. Careful not to open my wounds, he lifted me gently onto my bed. He lit a brazier and placed it close. Eureklya, Odysseus’ old nursemaid who had now been entrusted with Telemachus, arrived bearing two bowls filled with meat and water.

  Odysseus himself tried to feed me. I was not hungry but ate a few morsels from his hand just to please him. I was, however, very thirsty and lapped up half the bowl of water. Odysseus had to hold my head up as I lacked the strength.

  “What happened?” asked Penelope when Odysseus was finally satisfied with his arrangements.

  “We were h
unting boar,” explained Odysseus, seating himself wearily down on the bed. He winced and I could tell that the wound to his thigh was troubling him. With practiced ease, he removed the thong from his long dark hair and shook it loose. “We were on foot and became separated. Euryalus encountered the boar first. I heard his cries but I was too late. By the time I arrived, he was dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Penelope, sitting down next to her husband and placing one hand on his thigh. “I know he was one of your favorite guards. I will get Eumaeus to slaughter an ox and send it to his widow.”

  Odysseus nodded his thanks. “It was a massive brute. The shipmaster made no mention that he transported such a creature.”

  “Perhaps it was native to this island?” ventured Penelope.

  Odysseus shook his head. “No. I would’ve seen tracks before now. This boar was not normal. I think it was sent by the gods.”

  “What?” asked Penelope. “To kill you? But why? You are favored by Athena. Surely, she would not allow you to come to any harm.”

  “Maybe it was a warning,” said Odysseus.

  “A warning of what?” asked Penelope.

  “I do not know. But I know one thing. If it wasn’t for Argos, the creature would have finished me. I owe this dog my life.”

  “Great Argos,” said Penelope, reaching down to stroke my head. “Thank you for bringing my husband home safely.” I sighed with pleasure and wagged my tail feebly.

  Over the next few weeks, I slowly regained my strength, largely due to Odysseus’ ministrations. He fed me personally each day and always made sure that I was warm and comfortable. He changed my dressings and spent some time just stroking my head.

  Telemachus was delighted that I slept next to his cot at night and made Odysseus and Penelope laugh with his efforts to reach me. They did their best to keep him away from me for fear of opening my wounds but eventually I was able to play again. For the first time, we were almost equally matched. My fast hobble only just outpaced his crawling. In fact, I was amazed how fast he could crawl. Penelope would often lose track of him. One moment he would be playing at her feet, the next he was gone.