“Odysseus, help!” screamed Penelope.
Both the bride and groom had turned green and were holding their throats. Penelope was trying to save the bride but she appeared to be failing. Releasing me, Odysseus leapt the table in one great bound and attempted to help the choking groom. He lifted the man from his feet with his burly arms and squeezed, trying to dislodge the meat. When this didn’t work, he laid the man on the table and thrust one of his thick fingers down the struggling groom’s throat.
Both Penelope and Odysseus’ efforts were in vain. In front of the horrified onlookers, both the bride and groom choked to death, their bodies immediately swelling, taking on a horrible green tinge. There was nothing anyone could do. The gods had decreed that they were to die and so it was.
Death had come calling at this wedding but he had found the wrong target. The bride and groom were just unfortunate to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The meat had been meant for another. For one man: my master. But why would the gods—or at least one of the gods—try to kill Odysseus?
Chapter Nine
“And how did you feel, Argos, about all these attempts on your master’s life?” asks Cerberus.
I rouse myself from the past and sit on my haunches, scratching an imaginary flea with one of my hind legs.
“Angry,” I say at last. “I still feel angry now. Angry with the gods. How could they play with my master and his family the way they did?”
“I think you are wise to discuss this only with me, Argos,” says Cerberus. “Many of the gods would not like your tone.”
“I don’t care much for that,” I say. “What can the gods do to me now that hasn’t already been done?”
“Don’t underestimate them, Argos,” says Cerberus. “The gods still have a role to play in your life. The warp and weft of your life has not been fully woven just yet. Be careful what you say. Down here, there is still at least one god who can hear your complaints.”
“Do you mean yourself?” I ask sharply. “Are you threatening me?”
The two heads adjacent to Cerberus’ central head snarl. “No, I am not threatening you. I am warning you. And no, I am not referring to myself, even though my father was the mighty Titan, Typhon. I speak of my master, Hades.”
“Oh,” I say, slightly subdued. Cerberus is right. Hades is not to be trifled with, especially in his own domain.
“And remember,” says Cerberus, “that in the world above, your body draws breath yet. Your master still has need of your courage.”
“But how do you expect me to feel?” I ask. “How would you feel if your master was threatened by some force almost beyond your ability to combat?”
Cerberus is silent for a moment, considering. “I would feel exactly as you do,” he admits finally.
“Well then,” I say smugly.
Cerberus barks loudly. I know he is laughing. “That is why you are here, Argos. You and I are more alike than you can imagine. I understand your frustrations and your anger. If you didn’t feel the way you do, I would be disappointed.”
“So this is all a test then?” I ask.
Cerberus shrugs his massive shoulders, an awkward movement for a dog. “Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn’t. I know one thing for certain though.”
“And what is that?” I ask.
“I’m glad I brought you here,” says Cerberus. “Your story is a fascinating one. Would you like to continue?”
“Why not?” I say, lying down on my belly once more. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. In the world above, my body is slowly dying. Telling Cerberus my life story is far more preferable.
Our return trip to the palace was nothing like the journey to the village. No one spoke. Doom hung in the air and spirits were low. It is a terrible thing to attend a joyous occasion such as a wedding and to have it end in tragedy.
We made slow progress. While Odysseus was keen to get as far away from the scene of the tragedy as possible, he was also in no hurry to return to the palace. He decided to make camp under the open sky, hoping the fresh air would lift morale.
Later that night, with Penelope and Telemachus curled up safely together in the wagon under the watchful gaze of Odysseus’ guards, he and I sat next to the fire. His hand rested on my neck and I knew that everything would be all right between us.
“I’m sorry, Argos,” he said, his eyes full of sorrow. To show I understood, I licked his hand gently. “I should never have doubted you. I realize now that you always act with good cause. You saved my life. Again. No man is luckier than I to have such a dog.”
I sighed with pleasure at his words.
Odysseus looked into the fire, lost in thought, trying to unravel the puzzle that had been set before him.
My ears pricked. Something had changed. I could no longer hear the familiar night sounds. Around us, the landscape was completely silent. Not even the wind stirred. Odysseus did not seem to notice but I sat more upright, ready to defend my master. I also noticed that the guards had disappeared.
“What is it, boy?” asked Odysseus, becoming aware of my change in posture. “Is there someone out there?” He sprang to his feet and reached for his sword.
“There certainly is,” said a feminine voice. “And there is no need for your sword, great Odysseus.”
A woman stepped into the firelight. It was the tall gray-eyed woman that had carried me into Odysseus’ bed when I was just a pup.
Odysseus’ whole demeanor immediately changed. He bowed his head, which I thought was highly unusual. Odysseus bowed to no man. Or woman for that matter. I realized then that he knew who this woman was. Perhaps, like me, he had met her before.
“Athena, Goddess,” said Odysseus humbly. “To what do I owe this great honor?”
Realization struck me like a lightning bolt hurled by Zeus himself. How could I have been so stupid? Of course she was a goddess. Who else? This explained a great many things.
“Come, Odysseus, sit again with your dog, Argos. I will join you by the fire. We have many things to discuss.”
She knew my name? Strange how such a great goddess would take an interest in someone so insignificant.
Odysseus placed his sword on the ground and sat crossed-legged before the fire. Athena, with unearthly grace, was suddenly next to me so that I sat between them. She placed a hand on my neck much like Odysseus had been doing moments before. I felt a rush of pleasure at her touch.
“Such a fine dog, this Argos,” she said, gently stroking my head.
“Yes,” said Odysseus. “I am lucky to have him.”
“Luck played no part in it,” said Athena with the faintest of smiles. “I ensured that you would choose Argos.”
“But why?” asked Odysseus. “I don’t want to appear ungrateful,” he continued hastily, “but why Argos?”
“Because you need him,” said Athena simply. “Do you remember what I said to you last time we met?”
Odysseus nodded. “That a time of change was coming.”
“Yes,” said Athena. “Well, that time is upon you now. In fact, it is hurtling toward you and there is nothing you can do to avoid it.”
“What do you mean?” asked Odysseus.
“Soon you will be asked to go on a great voyage. When I say asked, I think a better word would be ‘forced.’ At the end of your voyage, you will become involved in a great battle. This will be the greatest struggle in human history and you have an important part to play.”
“Where is this battle and when do I leave?” asked Odysseus. In the firelight, I could see his eyes shining with eagerness. He enjoyed battle almost as much as he did hunting.
“You would not be as keen to depart if you knew what I know, Odysseus,” said Athena. “Let me explain. In the halls of Olympus, there are two factions. There are those gods who support you and the other Greek kings. I am numbered amongst them but that will not be a surprise to you. You have always been one that I have favored and watched carefully.” She paused. Then, there are t
he other gods who do not. The Lord of the Silver Bow is one of these.”
“You speak of Apollo?”
Athena nodded. “I do indeed. The Shining One supports those people across the sea that you will soon fight.”
“What is this place called?” asked Odysseus.
“You call it Troy. It goes by another name also. Ilium.”
Odysseus nodded thoughtfully but remained silent.
“But there is something else. Apollo commands the Fates, those lesser gods who can see the future. They have told him that it is you who will be ultimately responsible for the downfall of Troy.”
Odysseus’ eyes narrowed. I could see him working through the problem. Athena watched him carefully and her smile grew.
“You do not disappoint me, Odysseus. I can see that you understand,” she said.
“Yes,” said Odysseus in a voice that was almost a whisper. “Apollo wants to ensure that I never reach the shores of Troy.”
Athena nodded. “Indeed, Odysseus. Now we gods have to play a subtle game. The rules of the contest state that we cannot directly intervene. In other words, Apollo cannot just appear before you and drive a blade through your heart. He has to use … other methods.”
“You talk of the boar of Hades,” said Odysseus. “The boar that almost ended my life but for Argos.”
“Yes,” said Athena slowly. “But the boar was not Hades doing. Apollo summoned it himself.”
“And the feast?” asked Odysseus. “Was that Apollo as well?”
“Apollo is the god of many things,” she said. “Most know him as the God of Healing but he has a darker aspect. He is also the God of Disease and Plague. One touch from him was enough to corrupt the meat. One bite would have killed you.”
“And how is that different from driving a blade through my heart?” asked Odysseus.
Athena smiled without humor. “He could justify that by saying the diseased meat was not meant for you. That it was only an accident that you ate it.”
“So Argos did indeed save me,” said Odysseus. “And my wife.”
Athena nodded again and resumed her patting of my head. I couldn’t have been happier. “Argos is unusual,” she said. “Special. Much of it is innate but I have bestowed certain gifts upon him. One of those gifts is an ability to see the gods, even when humans cannot. Though I am not able to aid you directly, Argos can and will. He has chosen too. I have not made him love you. That was your doing.”
Odysseus smiled and placed a warm hand over my back. I was almost dying with pleasure, caressed by not one, but two sets of hands.
“Argos has also protected your son, Telemachus,” continued Athena.
“What!” snarled Odysseus. “If Apollo seeks to harm my child, I will track him down and slaughter him, even if he takes shelter in Olympus.”
“Calm, Odysseus. Your son is not in danger,” said Athena. “Apollo merely intended to injure your son and infect him with a disease. With your son sick, you would not leave Ithaca for any reason. But Apollo has had a … change of heart. The other gods agreed that harming infants to reach our goals falls outside the rules of the game. That is not to say that he might not try again. My half-brother has always been one for bending the rules. Once you are gone, however, your wife and child will be safe.”
“When did Apollo try to harm my son?” asked Odysseus.
“One stormy night,” said Athena. “Argos saw Apollo as he leant over Telemachus’ cot and attacked him. Apollo had little to fear from Argos but through this dog’s eyes, I realized what was happening and dissuaded Apollo from his course of action.”
“Then I am indebted to Argos for yet another reason,” said Odysseus. His eyes glistened. This was the first time I had seen him come close to shedding tears.
“You are,” said Athena. “And remember also, the loyalty of Argos has nothing to do with the enchantment I have set on him. He protects you and your family because he loves you. Because he is loyal. Never forget that. Treat Argos well, and there is nothing he will not do for you. His loyalty is worth more than all the gold in this world.”
“I know,” said Odysseus soberly.
“Be warned, Odysseus. Savor Argos because you may not have his companionship for as long as you would like. You may be gone from these shores far sooner and for longer than you realize.”
The words of Athena were prophetic. Shortly after that night, a delegation arrived from Mycenae sent by King Agamemnon to recruit warriors for his war against Troy.
I never grew tired of hearing the story of how Odysseus’ took part in the conflict between the Greeks and Troy. In fact, only a week had passed since Eumaeus had retold it.
Odysseus and Penelope had gone to bed and Eumaeus was a little drunk, wine loosening his tongue. Anticipating what was to come, I had settled at his feet beneath the table. In addition to myself, Eumaeus had a rapt audience of young warriors.
“Tell us about Odysseus and Helen again,” one of the men had cried.
Eumaeus had smiled, holding up one hand for silence.
“Very well,” he had said. “I was told this story by Odysseus himself. You don’t get much closer to being there than that.” When he was sure he had the attention of his audience, he began.
“Many years ago, suitors came from all over Greece to win the hand of the fair maiden Helen. This was before Odysseus met our dear Penelope. Our master was among these suitors but he brought no gifts as he had an ulterior motive. He didn’t really want Helen, he wanted Penelope.”
“But I have heard that Helen rivals even Aphrodite in beauty,” said one young man.
Eumaeus had nodded his head wisely. “That may well be true, Nauteus, but it is unwise to compare mortals to the gods. I am sure the same comparisons could be made between Helen and Penelope but that would be like comparing two beautiful spring flowers with each other. Where was I? Oh, yes. Odysseus played a key part in Helen finding a husband. Helen’s father Tyndareus was wary that the unsuccessful suitors would become violent. Odysseus offered to help Tyndareus in exchange for the older man’s aid in winning Penelope.
“Odysseus’ suggestion was this: to avoid conflict, the other suitors had to swear an oath that they would come to the aid of the man who won Helen’s hand. That man was Menelaus, the brother of Agamemnon.”
“Now,” continued Eumaeus, “I have heard Helen has been stolen from Menelaus by Paris, a Prince of Troy. Agamemnon has long been jealous of Troy’s wealth. You mark my words, no good will come of this oath.”
Eumaeus ruminated long into the night, his story filling me with disquiet. His words were still fresh in my mind when the delegation from King Agamemnon arrived. They had come for only one purpose: Odysseus.
Agamemnon needed Odysseus and for that matter, every other king in Greece. But Odysseus was more important than the others, with the possible exception of the mighty hero, godlike Achilles. Agamemnon wanted Odysseus not just for his strength but for his mind. It was well known that Odysseus was the craftiest of generals. In his mind lay the key to unlocking the gates of Troy.
Later that evening, Penelope found Odysseus at the top of the squat fortress next to the palace, staring out to sea. I lay at his feet, my head between my paws; my mood affected by the melancholy that filled my master.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said Penelope. “What’s wrong?” she asked when she saw his face. “Is it something to do with those emissaries from Agamemnon?”
Odysseus nodded. “He has asked me to go to war.”
“Well,” said Penelope putting her hands on her delicate waist, “tell him you can’t.”
“It’s not that simple,” said Odysseus quietly.
“Yes it is,” she said stubbornly. “Just tell him no. And don’t give me any excuse, Odysseus. I know you love a good fight. I can tell you want to go so don’t pretend otherwise.”
“There’s more to this than you know, my wife. Helen has been kidnapped by a Prince of Troy. As you know, I swore an oath to help her
husband, Menelaus.”
“An oath you devised,” pointed out Penelope.
“True,” said Odysseus. “But as much as I enjoy battle, this is one I would choose to avoid. Athena has warned me that I may be away for longer than I realize. I can stomach not seeing you, Telemachus, or Argos for weeks, even months, but I have a feeling this could turn into much, much more.” At the mention of my name, I sat up.
“You saw the Goddess Athena?” asked Penelope, her eyes wide.
“Yes. I should have told you but I didn’t want you to worry. And there is another reason why I should go. If I don’t, I am putting you and Telemachus in danger.”
“How?” asked Penelope.
“Athena told me that the God Apollo does not want me to leave Ithaca. He will do anything to make me stay, even if it means killing me or harming you or Telemachus. Once I leave, you will both be safe.”
Penelope considered these words carefully. Finally, she spoke, “Then you have to leave, my love. Who knows, perhaps Athena is wrong. Perhaps you will be home sooner than you think?”
“Perhaps,” said Odysseus. “One more thing. Argos has been protecting Telemachus. That is why he knocked over his cot that time. Trust him. Athena has given him the strength to keep you safe. He will watch over you while I am gone.”
“I know he will. I saw how he saved us at the wedding.” She hugged her husband with one arm. The other hand rested gently on my head.
It was the saddest day of my life, watching Odysseus depart. Penelope and I sat side by side on the beach, comforted by each other’s presence. Telemachus, sensing our mood, was for once still, hugging his mother tightly as he watched the men bustle about the ships, preparing for departure. Odysseus was taking twelve ships with him which was only about half of the Ithacan navy. Oath or not, he was not prepared to leave his shores undefended in his absence.
I wanted to go with Odysseus. I knew I would excel in war just like I did in the hunt. Men were little different than boars except for their armor and weapons. There were weak spots I could attack. I had half convinced myself that I would be a great asset to Odysseus in this war but then I remembered what my master had said. That my place was here, taking care of Penelope and Telemachus.
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