“Do you have a plan, my lord?” asked Eumaeus.
“I don’t need a plan,” said Odysseus. “I have Argos.”
“But my lord … ”
“That will be all, Eumaeus. I will see you outside at dawn.”
Eumaeus wisely decided to say no more. If I’d had a voice, I would have said a thing or two though. But I couldn’t and I doubted whether Odysseus would have listened to me in any case. His confidence in me was flattering. I hoped it wasn’t misguided.
Chapter Seven
That night, after Odysseus had gone to bed, I lay down in my accustomed place outside in the hall. I don’t think I slept or if I did, it was fitful, restless, and full of dreams where I failed my master.
My ears twitched at a sound, almost silent footsteps coming along the darkened hallway. I raised my head, immediately alert, but made no sound for fear of waking Telemachus in the adjacent room.
I thought at first that it might have been Penelope but remembered that she had gone to bed hours earlier. If not her, who? The figure approached wearing a long robe with the cowl pulled up. Features were obscured by shadow but they needn’t have bothered with such elaborate schemes. I caught a familiar scent.
It was Amycus.
My hackles rose. A low, threatening growl emerged from deep in my throat as I pushed to my feet.
“Come now, Argos,” said Amycus in an urgent whisper, nervously sidling toward me. He stopped an arm’s reach away. “We used to be friends, you and I. Don’t you remember all those times I looked after you? How I cared for you when you were but a pup, sick and hungry? Here, look what I have for you.” One hand delved into his robe and emerged holding something wonderful.
With one sniff, I knew exactly what it was. Boar. Not just boar, but a prime cut, something I’d never had before, something that was always reserved for human mouths. To my shame, my mouth began to water. Droplets of saliva dropped on to the tiles at my feet.
Tentatively, Amycus stretched it out to me, smiling. Now I may be many things but I am not stupid. I knew that Amycus must have done something to the meat. But rational thought is not really in a dog’s vocabulary when it comes to food. Especially this kind of food. And as unusual as I was, I was still just a dog.
I was about to snatch it from Amycus’ hand when a firm command froze me, mouth still open and drooling.
“Argos! No!”
From the shadows, another figure emerged. Odysseus. So clever and silent was my master, that not even I had been aware of his presence.
He stalked towards us, a naked bronze blade in his hand and grabbed the meat from Amycus’ hand. He shoved it into Amycus’ face, trying to force it into his mouth. Amycus twisted his face away but dared not try and escape as Odysseus’ blade pressed up against his belly.
“No? Don’t want it?” snarled Odysseus. “I wonder why? It’s not poisoned by any chance, is it, Amycus?” Odysseus kneed the Master of the Kennels in the gut, dropping the man to the floor before me.
“No … no, of course not, my lord,” gasped Amycus. I snarled and locked my jaws around his arm, more to stop him escaping than any real desire to hurt him. He deserved it. If I was honest with myself, I would probably have welcomed an opportunity to do him harm but one thing stopped me: Odysseus had not given the command.
“Then you won’t have a problem eating it yourself,” Odysseus said, thrusting the meat toward Amycus’ face again. I could see the terror plainly etched on his face.
“I didn’t think so,” said Odysseus. “Stand up,” he commanded. I let go of his arm and Amycus did as he was told, cowering before his lord.
“How much did they pay you, Amycus?”
“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lord Odysseus.”
Odysseus hit him again in the stomach. Amycus doubled up.
“I will ask you one more time. If I don’t get the answer I want, my sword rather than my fist is going to start asking questions.”
“Wait. Wait!” wailed Amycus. “I’ll tell you! Just don’t kill me. They promised to make me the Master of the Kennels on both islands,” he sniveled.
“I find it interesting that you were offered something that wasn’t theirs to give,” said Odysseus drily. He kicked Amycus again. “Go back and tell your new masters that you will accept only one of those posts. I have a feeling, however, that they might have changed their minds and you will find yourself without either. Now, get off my island. If you ever set foot on Ithaca again, I will kill you.”
Terrified, Amycus fled.
Odysseus looked down at me. “Argos, really,” he said. I knew chastisement when I heard it. Nothing should have induced me to trust Amycus.
At least I had the good grace to look ashamed.
The next day dawned. Odysseus, Eumaeus, and several retainers met Meges, Elatus, and their followers on a large field outside the palace gates.
Elatus held the lead of a dog. Well, I was pretty sure it was a dog but certainly like none I had ever seen. It was tall and lean, with extraordinary long limbs. You could see almost every bone and muscle etched clearly through its coat.
“That’s an interesting looking creature,” remarked Odysseus. His face betrayed none of the fury I knew he felt over my attempted poisoning. Odysseus always planned carefully. He would have his revenge but it would be on his terms.
“Indeed,” said Meges, looking smug. “Elatus has taken a personal interest in breeding our dogs. Especially ones built for speed. The last few years, he’s selected only the fastest and leanest dogs. We bred those with a dog we brought from a trader who claimed it was from a distant land no one had ever seen.”
“It certainly looks like it,” said Eumaeus. “I’ve never seen the like.”
“And nor will you again,” said Elatus, smirking.
“Well,” said Odysseus, clapping his hands briskly. “Shall we get on with this wager then?”
Meges shouted a command and one of his men hurried forward with a cage. There was a hare inside.
“Shall we go over the rules again?” asked Meges.
“As you wish,” said Odysseus, shrugging.
“It’s the first dog to catch the hare and bring it back to its master,” said Elatus.
“That wasn’t what was agreed!” protested Eumaeus. “Last night you made no mention of the dog bringing it back.”
“Does this swineherd speak for you, Lord Odysseus?” asked Meges, unable to keep the derision out of his voice.
“He is not just my swineherd, Meges,” said Odysseus. “He is also my friend. Mind your tongue.”
“It must have slipped my mind,” said Elatus. “It is of no concern and will make little difference to the contest.”
Odysseus pretended to consider. “I agree,” he said finally.
“But they can’t just change the rules!” exclaimed Eumaeus.
“Enough, Eumaeus,” said Odysseus in a voice that brooked no argument.
“Very well then,” said Meges. “Prepare your dog.”
The cage was set before us. I was lined up on one side of the cage while my rival was set on the other as one of Meges’ men opened it.
The hare bolted. Moments later, on an agreed signal, both I and the other dog were set free. I took off, my paws seemingly on fire, but was immediately dismayed by the strange dog. I had never met another dog that could keep pace with me and yet this one was. The rough ground, pocked and pitted with holes, however, gave me an advantage. My larger paws and more robust build were better suited to this sort of terrain.
To its credit, the other dog was fast. Together, we gained on the hare as it swerved in desperation before us. I could almost feel the breath of the animal next to me, so close were we. Suddenly, the other dog staggered slightly, its small foot tripped by a hidden crevice. It was the opportunity I needed. I lunged for the hare and tasted success when my jaws found its warm flesh.
I also tasted something else. Something unfamiliar. I gave it no further thought and buoyed by victory, sped back to my ma
ster. Almost immediately, however, I began to slow. My head filled with cloying mist. The strange taste was strong in my mouth. Next to me, the other dog had caught up and was attempting to rip my prize from my mouth. I would not let it. Could not let it.
Stubbornly, I stumbled toward my master. The other dog continued its attempts to worry the hare from my jaws but I would allow no one but Odysseus to have it. My jaw was set like a rock. I doubt whether the gods themselves could have opened it.
Doggedly, I staggered on. With the last of my strength, consciousness fading fast, I fell at my master’s feet and remembered no more.
The sounds of angry voices woke me. I felt drowsy, dizzy, and vaguely nauseous. It took me a few moments to realize where I was. The healer’s quarters. I was lying on a bed normally reserved for patients with two legs.
Odysseus’ new healer was standing over me, watching my recovery with interest. Behind him, Odysseus and Eumaeus were having a heated conversation.
“But they cheated, my lord,” said Eumaeus angrily. “Not only that, but they could have killed Argos. They must be punished for their sins.”
“What would you have me do?” retorted Odysseus, his voice rising further. “They have denied everything and protest their innocence vehemently. At first, they tried to say that Argos was exhausted by the race. Then, when I took the hare from Argos’ jaws, I realized there was something smeared onto the coat of the hare. Meges has suggested that because one of my men provided the hare, we are to blame.”
“How convenient,” growled Eumaeus. “So they are blaming one of your men, then?”
“Yes,” said Odysseus. “They insist it must have been one of us who doused the hare in that strange substance.”
“What a pack of lies!” shouted a frustrated Eumaeus.
“Keep your voice down,” said Odysseus, regaining his poise. “It’s not as simple as you think, Eumaeus. I have other things I need to consider.”
“Such as?”
“The alliance for one,” said Odysseus. “I am surrounded by enemies and need every ally I can find—even one like Meges. Ithaca is rich and powerful, making us a target for raiders and pirates. I can’t fight all of them.”
“Yes, but you could start with Meges,” insisted Eumaeus. “Your army is greater than his. It will be one less pirate to deal with. If he had won the wager, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same to you.”
“That would not sit well with the other kings,” said Odysseus. “In fact, it would no doubt make them nervous and they would ally themselves against me.”
“And what of the wager?”
“That too, is complicated,” said Odysseus wearily, running one calloused hand through his long hair. “It turns out that Meges hasn’t got enough gold to pay his debt.”
“What sort of gambler makes a wager he can’t pay?” sneered Eumaeus.
“A bad one,” said Odysseus drily. There was silence in the room for a moment and then both Odysseus and Eumaeus roared with laughter. I was pleased that the tension was broken. I liked Eumaeus and would not like to see him have a falling out with my master. “He will have to pay in installments,” continued Odysseus.
“It would almost seem like he never thought he could lose,” noted Eumaeus.
“Yes, that did occur to me.” Odysseus turned his attention to me and his face broke into a smile when he saw that I was awake. He rushed to my side and patted my head gently. “Well done, Argos,” he said. “Good dog. How is he, healer?” Odysseus asked.
“He will be fine,” said the man. “A little shaky on his feet for a few days, but will otherwise make a full recovery.”
“Just as well,” said Odysseus. “If he had died, then alliance or not, I would have the heads of Meges and his arrogant upstart of a son on a spike.”
“I confess I am a little confused though,” said the healer.
“How so?” said Odysseus.
“I don’t know what did this. It is something I haven’t seen before. A substance, probably from the east. In induces unconsciousness when inhaled in sufficient quantities but seems to be otherwise harmless. Here, smell this.” He picked up a cloth on a nearby table and gave it to Odysseus. My master took one hesitant sniff and rocked back on his heels in surprise.
“Powerful indeed,” said Odysseus.
“But wouldn’t it have had the same effect on their dog?” asked Eumaeus.
“I did think of that,” confessed the healer. “I’m not really sure, but perhaps it is possible to acquire immunity to this substance by repeated exposure. Probably in small doses until the dog was able to tolerate it for a short time.”
“They did not count on Argos’ strength,” said Odysseus proudly.
“They probably didn’t think it would come to that,” said Eumaeus. “They were confident that Amycus would succeed in his plan to poison Argos last night.”
“With just enough poison to make Argos weak and sick without killing him,” mused Odysseus. “They planned carefully but not carefully enough. They forgot one important thing.”
“And that is?” asked Eumaeus.
“Argos is like me. Loyal and strong. And he does not like to lose.”
Chapter Eight
I recovered quickly. As the healer had guessed, the substance was essentially harmless although I did suffer from lingering dizziness.
To reward my success, Odysseus ordered the kitchen staff to prepare me my favorite. With his characteristic dry sense of humor, Odysseus ensured that prime cuts of boar meat similar to the ones offered by Amycus were given to me. A number of juicy bones were also included. As much as I love boar meat, there is nothing like a good bone. I could spend hours breaking it apart to reach the sweet marrow contained within.
Normally, my meals were served at the rear of the palace kitchens. I knew I was spoiled. All the other dogs were fed in the kennels. This time, Odysseus himself brought the bowls, setting them down before me.
He crouched down and watched me eat in silence for moment. “Thank you, Argos,” he said simply. “You are the finest dog a master could ever hope to own. I never doubted you, even for a moment. I will not forget this. A king always pays his debts.” From behind his back, he brought forth a bronze studded leather collar and swiftly fastened it around my neck. Even though I could barely resist the urge to keep eating, I paused and looked up, hearing the emotion in my master’s voice. I knew that this was a significant moment in our relationship. Odysseus’ eyes were shining as he watched me. He smiled. If I could’ve smiled back, I would’ve done so. Instead I wagged my tail to express the happiness I felt.
He left me then to eat in peace, presumably to see his guests off who were understandably preparing to depart in some haste.
I continued to eat, as happy as I’ve ever been when I heard footsteps. Perhaps Odysseus had returned to keep me company. My nose was filled with the rich aroma of boar, giving me no hint of who it could be. I glanced up, curious as to why Odysseus had returned.
But it was not Odysseus. It was Elatus. The boy prince approached cautiously, a hesitant smile on his face and one hand concealed behind his back. I could sense his nervousness. I expected nothing but treachery but was confident that I was more than a match for him.
I lowered my face back into my bowl, crunching on a bone but not for one moment taking my eyes off the boy. I growled low in my throat, warning him not to approach any further.
“Argos,” he said. “The great dog of Odysseus. You’re not so great. You just got lucky. My dog should have won.” His tone was low and soothing but the words were delivered with a sneer. He was trying not to alarm me. He was up to something.
“You have cost my father and me a great deal and brought dishonor to our house,” he continued. He had no reason to suspect I understood everything he said. “This debt will cripple our kingdom and I owe it all to you. Here is your reward.”
He threw a small object toward me. It landed harmlessly at my feet and I stopped eating to examine it cautiously, sniffin
g it. It was a child’s toy, a small dog carved from wood except it was no longer intact. Someone had broken its legs off.
For a moment, I was distracted, which in hindsight, had been Elatus’ plan. He knew I would be wary around him and had acted accordingly. I sensed the blow coming but reacted far too slowly. I thought I would be prepared for anything that Elatus did but I had not considered the lingering effect of the poisonous hare. I was sluggish, overconfident, and paid the price of my arrogance.
The blow struck my head and stunned me for a moment. I looked up to see Elatus raising his club again. I was not about to give him a second chance. Snarling, I sprang at him, locking my jaws around his arm before the club could descend. I could smell shock and horror erupting from him in waves. Clearly, he had not expected me to survive the first blow, which should have shattered my skull.
He lost his grip on his club and began to scream. Against my better judgment and instinct, I let go. His arm was bleeding profusely where my teeth had punctured his skin. Elatus fell to the ground and continued to bleat.
“Don’t,” he cried. “Please don’t kill me.” Pathetic. I would’ve laughed if I’d been human. My head throbbed painfully and I sat down on my haunches to clear my head and consider my next move. I did contemplate running for it. Even Odysseus’ favorite dog could not savage a prince without consequences. This would not end well.
Odysseus emerged from the rear of the palace, accompanied by a number of armed men, his eyes wide with alarm.
“Your dog attacked me,” cried Elatus. “Look what he has done to my arm.” Odysseus strode over to Elatus, considered him for a moment, and then turned his back on him. He crouched down next to me and took my face into his hands.
“Don’t worry about your stupid dog!” screamed Elatus. “I’m injured. Send for your healer.”
“You’ll live,” said Odysseus without turning. His careful inspection took in the bloody bruise rising from my skull and the discarded club lying on the ground.
Nodding to himself, Odysseus said, “I’ll have you seen to immediately.”
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