Argos

by Ralph Hardy

“News of my master? From whence does the bat come, most clever of birds?”

  “From Hades itself,” the crow says. “Hurry, night falls soon.”

  Then the crow flies away. I rush the remaining sheep into their stalls, nipping the last few on their fat rears to get them to move quickly, and then I run as fast as I can toward the mist-shrouded mountain that juts out of the earth in the middle of our island.

  I reach the mountain as black night falls over Ithaka. I know the cave where the bat hangs upside down, sleeping through the long hours of the day. Telemachos and I waited out a storm there only last summer. Then, just as I arrive at the cave’s mouth, a thousand bats fly out into the night. Have I arrived too late?

  “Greetings, Stag Hunter,” I hear a shrill voice from over my head say. I look up and see the tiny creature clinging to the stone above me. Truly, he is no larger than a mouse—a mouse that flies.

  “Greetings to you, Night Flyer. I will not detain you long from your insect hunting. The crow said you had news of my master, Odysseus. Is it true? You have seen him?”

  “Yes, I have seen him,” the bat says. “I was on Circe’s island while he was there, and then I followed his swift ship on its mission to Hades, for I too visit the underworld to see my kin.”

  I whimper out loud when I hear this. It is true. My master has been sent to Hades!

  Regaining my composure, I call up to him. “Tell me, then, what you saw, O winged one. Do not me spare me the truth, for I have suffered many years to hear my master’s ultimate fate.”

  “I will tell you what I know, loyal one. But it is a hard tale, for men do not go easily into the underworld and return unchanged.”

  I sit on my haunches and crane my neck upward to hear his story.

  “All day, Argos, your master’s ship with full sail sped north as Circe instructed. Soon they reached the deep ocean and the land of the Kimmerian people, hidden in fog and cloud. There they harbored, and Odysseus and his men sacrificed many sheep and made offerings to the gods and said prayers to Hades and Persephone, the queen of the underworld, as they were instructed. The blood from their sacrifices made a giant pool, and toward it the spirits of the dead were drawn, just as Circe had said, but your master would let no one near it until Teiresias came.

  “Terrible was that night, for many spirits gathered around your master and his men. They were the hordes of the perished dead, brides and unmarried men, elders and tender children, and many fighting men, still splendid in their armor. They swarmed about with an inhuman noise, filling the men with terror, but your master drew his large sword and would not let the spirits of the perished come near. Don’t move!”

  “Is that what my master said?”

  “No, brave one. A mosquito flies near your left shoulder. Don’t you hear it?”

  “No, winged one.”

  With a flash of leathery wings, the bat swoops down and a moment later is hanging above me again.

  “Delicious. Now, as I was saying . . . Then a familiar soul approached—Elpenor, one of your master’s men, who had fallen to his death while drunk in Circe’s palace just before they left. Your master had not buried him, so quickly had they left for the underworld. Seeing him, your master wept piteous tears.

  “Elpenor, the phantom, spoke thus: ‘Son of Laertes and seed of Zeus, I pray that after you leave the house of Hades and set sail for Aiaia, you set me on a pyre there and burn me with my armor, then heap up a grave mound on the beach and plant the oar with which I rowed for your black ship. Do this for me, or I am cursed for eternity.’

  “And your master promised this. Then more souls came—most tragic of all, your master’s mother, Antikleia.”

  I know that my master’s mother had died, but to see her spirit in Hades must have been terrible for him. My poor master.

  “What did my master say when he saw his mother, Night Flyer?” I ask.

  The bat is silent for a moment.

  “Never have I seen such sorrow on a man, Boar Slayer,” the bat says finally. “He wept and wept, but still he could not go to her, for his duty was to find Teiresias first, or else his prophecies would be lost. But then, emerging from the shadows, the blind prophet Teiresias appeared, carrying his golden staff. Ahhh, the moths are thick tonight, Boar Slayer.”

  “Moths? But . . .”

  “One moment.”

  Up, down, around, he darts. Never have I seen such flying agility. My neck becomes tired just following him. And then, a few moments later, he returns to his perch.

  “Truly the moths on Ithaka are among the finest in the world, Argos.”

  “That may be, cousin. But what did Teiresias say?” I demand.

  “Patience, four-legged one. A bat must eat many times its weight in food each night. That is our curse and our delight. Now then. Returning to my tale, Teiresias said, ‘Son of Laertes and seed of Zeus, how is it that you are here in this cursed place, far from sunlit Ithaka? Sheath your sword and draw back so that I may drink this blood and speak to your fate.’

  “Hearing this, your master sheathed his sword, and the prophet drank deeply.

  “‘Glorious Odysseus,’ he began,’ you seek to return to your home, but one god is against you. Poseidon, the earth shaker, bears you ill will because you blinded his son, Polyphemus of the Cyclopes. But even so, you might return, though after much suffering, if you obey my instructions and contain your desires and those of your companions.’

  “‘Tell me then, perfect seer, what I must do and I will follow it closely,’ your master begged.

  “‘First, when you return to your fast ship, sail over the blue waters, escaping its grasp if you can, to Thrinakia. There you will find fat cattle and sheep pasturing, but touch them not, for they belong to the god Helios, who sees and hears all things. Keep foremost in your mind your sweet homecoming and leave those beasts unharmed, and you might reach fair Ithaka, after much suffering. But if harm comes to them, then your destruction is foretold, for your ships and your men will perish, although the gods may smile on you alone.’

  “‘I swear to you, then, we will follow your instructions,’ Odysseus promised.”

  “And he will, Night Flyer,” I say. “Of that I am certain.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not, Argos, for I saw the briefest smile cross Teiresias’s lips when your master said this.”

  I ignore this remark, for what does a bat know of my master’s will? Still, the bat is silent for a moment, and I begin to think I have insulted him. Or he still hungers.

  “Please, continue, winged one,” I say. “I will interrupt no more, and then you may eat your fill.”

  “So be it,” the bat replies. “Then Teiresias drank again and continued his prophecy, for he was nearly through reading the thread of your master’s fate.”

  “‘If you return to Ithaka, City Sacker,’ he said, ‘yours will not be a joyous homecoming. Your companions will all be dead, and your ship will be lost. On a borrowed vessel you will arrive to find strange men in your house, eating away your wealth, and courting your wife.’

  “‘Steadfast Penelope would marry again?’ your master cried.

  “‘No, brave one,’ Teiresias answered. ‘Godlike Penelope is ever loyal, but the men make her suffer and insult her honor. You may avenge this insult if you can, by bronze or trickery.’ Your master then gripped his sword tightly, Argos, and I knew that he would use bronze to defend his house.

  “‘Do I die then, perfect seer?’ your master asked after his rage subsided.

  “Teiresias shook his head. ‘No, Odysseus, if this thread is followed, Death will come to you, as it does all men, but it will be in old age, and it will come from the sea. Fear it not, then, for there is much more suffering and death to come sooner.’

  “Then your master asked, ‘May I speak to my mother now, blind one? I would know of her sad fate, for when I left Ithaka, her health was strong and death seemed far away.’

  “Teiresias nodded. ‘Let her drink this blood as I have, Odysseus, and her wor
ds will come, as will the words of all the souls here.’

  “And saying that, Lord Teiresias turned and disappeared in the gloom of Hades.

  “Then Odysseus’s mother, who, before, could not to speak to your master, such was her lamentation, spoke to him in winged words.

  “‘My child, how did you come here into this gloom and darkness?’ she asked. ‘Are you still alive? Why are you not in Ithaka with your wife and son?’

  “Your master answered, ‘Dearest Mother, I came to speak with the soul of Teiresias. It was a duty I had to obey, even though I have not been to Ithaka in many years. Indeed, I have been wandering since the days I helped defeat the Trojans alongside the great Agamemnon.’

  “‘I know of your battle with the Trojans, my son. Many great warriors are here because of it,’ she replied.

  “For a moment they were silent while Odysseus contemplated what he had done. But then he looked to his mother and said, ‘Now that I have answered, I have many questions for you, for I have not set foot on Achaian land for many years. Tell me, how did you die, swiftly or with a long sickness? And what of my father and the son I left behind? Do they know I still live? And tell me about Penelope, my loyal wife. Does she need anything? Does she believe I live?’

  “So your master spoke, and his mother answered quickly, ‘Your wife endures many hardships and spends her nights weeping by the sea. Telemachos administers your lands as well as he can, but he is still just a boy, though he grows strong, and he has a faithful companion, a fierce and loyal dog. Your father lives on, but he is poor, for he cares not for anything but your safe return and he grows old harshly. As for me, I died not quickly nor from illness, but rather the sweet spirit of life left me over my longing for you, your cleverness and gentle ways.’

  “Hearing this tale of woe, your master sought to embrace his mother, but three times she fluttered away as his arms encircled her, like a dream or a shadow. Then your master cried, ‘Mother, will you not wait for me? My arms long to touch you! Even though we are in Hades, is there not relief from this dismal mourning? Or are you nothing but a ghost that Queen Persephone has sent my way to make me grieve even more?’

  “Odysseus’s mother answered thus: ‘O my ill-fated child, this is what happens when we die. The sinews do not hold us together once the spirit has left its cage of white bones. The soul flitters like a moth and flies away. That is why you must leave. Go back to the land of light as fast as you can, back to your good wife Penelope, but remember what you have seen here.’

  “But while she said this, other souls gathered round, the souls of wives and daughters of gods and princes, all sent by Persephone, and each one spoke of the sorrows of the perished. Then the soul of great Achilles, noblest of the Achaians, approached, and soon Minos, too, came forward, glorious son of Zeus, and the giant Orion too. Beyond them struggled Sisyphos, trying to push the great stone up the mountain, and when he had nearly reached the summit, the pitiless boulder rolled back down to the plain. Your master watched him try and fail again. He would never gain the summit; that was his fate.

  “More of the perished gathered about Odysseus, clamoring to hear news of the living, but their noise was too great, and your master, fearing that Persephone might send some monster of the underworld after him, left that place as fast as he could and boarded his ship. Apollo’s chariot could be seen in the east, so I did not fly to his ship, though I heard him cry, ‘Cast off the cables and set your oarlocks!’

  “That was the last I saw of them, loyal one,” the bat says. “I do not fly by day, and so I did not follow their swift boat on its way back to Aiaia. I found a dark cavern in which to hide until the next night, and then I flew toward this land.”

  For a long time I cannot speak. Finally I say, “How can I thank you, winged one, for your endeavors?”

  “There is nothing you can do for me, Boar Slayer. We bats are not like other creatures fashioned by the gods. We fly, yet we are not birds. We eat insects, yet we are not reptiles. We are blind, yet we see all. That is our fate. Go now, back to your home and sleep. Your master sails ever closer, though as long as he sails over water, he faces the wrath of Poseidon. Pray to your gods for fast winds. That is all you or anyone can do.”

  Then the bat unfolds its wings and flies out of the cave, darting right and left, up and down, as is their way, until he is swallowed by the darkness completely.

  CHAPTER XVII

  A trap is laid

  There is a cleft between two ridges on the south side of Ithaka where a small berry shrub grows. The berries that grow on it are plump and bloodred, oozing sweet, sticky juice, but even the insects avoid it. I have heard the birds warn one another that the berries are poisonous; to eat just a drop of their red juice means agonizing death. I am going to find it.

  I travel at night, while the flocks are safe in their barns, following the deer trails that bisect the island. Selene, goddess of the full moon, guides me deep into the valleys, lighting the path for me.

  “What do you seek in this valley, Argos the Boar Slayer?” a hedgehog asks, emerging from the underbrush, when I find myself lost.

  I tell him what I seek.

  The hedgehog nods once and then stares at me, unblinking, from beneath a tree root for a few moments. “Pick me up,” he says. “I will take you to it.”

  He curls up and I take him gently in my mouth, avoiding his barbs, and follow his directions until he says we have arrived. Then I set him down, and he uncurls and stretches his spiny back.

  “There is the bush you seek, Boar Slayer. The stem is safe to put in your mouth, but do not let your tongue touch the berries or lap their juice. If you do, I have heard that goat’s milk will ease the poison, but you must drink it soon after, or you will die.”

  “Thank you, Brother Hedgehog,” I say. “Good hunting to you.”

  “I thank you. Where is your master, Odysseus? Does he return soon?” he asks.

  “I have heard that he sails back to Aiaia, but he will return home soon if the gods are willing.”

  The hedgehog nods. “Few men return from that island, I think, loyal one. But if any man should, it will be your master.”

  Then he waddles off to hunt for an ant mound. I don’t dwell on his dispiriting words about Circe, for I have to return to the farm. I circle the bush and find the stem with the most berries on it. Placing the stem between my jaws, I bite through it and twist it off, careful not to break any of the berries. Then, with the stem firmly in my jaws, I turn around and retrace my steps home. Selene casts her silver light in front of me, and I return to my master’s land just before she sinks beneath the hills.

  Noble Telemachos has left the leg bone of an ox near my bed and I crack it open, digging out the marrow with my teeth. I need to draw strength from that bone, the strength of an ox, for tomorrow night I may be fighting mountain wolves. I gnaw it for an hour, sharpening my teeth to fine points. Then I rest until I hear the dull bleat of a sheep. It’s time to take them to the fields.

  I bury the stem of berries to keep the goats from eating it—they will eat anything—and trot down to the sheep stall. A shepherd boy is there, and he unties the gate. The sheep come streaming out, and I lead them to a fine, grassy hill where, from the crest, I can watch them easily. All day long while they eat their grass, I rest and rehearse my plan.

  The suitors arrive in midafternoon, but this day I don’t growl at them as they approach the house. I remain high above on the hilltop, watching. Only my eyes move. Later, I see Telemachos leave the house and take the path that leads down to the harbor. He whistles for me, but for once, I don’t run to him. He whistles again.

  Oh, the sting of that whistle! Menfolk will never know how a simple whistle from their master cuts into a dog’s heart. It is born into us. We freeze! We listen! Our hearts race! Our tails wag! Every instinct I have told me to run to him; he would praise me, rub my back, and scratch my ears. Some dogs live for this. A silly barnyard dog does. A weak housedog does. A clumsy puppy does. But I
am Argos, the Boar Slayer, and tonight I must kill wolves. I whimper once, softly, then I cover my ears with my paws and lie perfectly still while Telemachos gazes out over the fields looking for me. Finally he turns and heads down the path that will lead him to the harbor. Alone.

  What if robbers waylay him? No, I tell myself, he is godlike Telemachos, and he is armed with a sword. What if a wolf sees him walking alone and attacks from behind? No, I think, there are no wolves that close to the shore. He is going to the harbor to ask if any sailors have seen his father’s swift boat while they sailed the islands. He does this every week, hoping to hear news that my master lives. I know the answer. He has been among the dead, but he still lives.

  Finally the shepherd boy calls my name, and I begin to round up the sheep. I had kept them close together, much to their dismay, so in a few minutes I have them streaming down the hill toward their stalls, where they will drink and ruminate their cuds, for they have no real thoughts. At least one will be taken for dinner this day, if the suitors have their wish.

  Then I run to the place where I buried the berries and dig up the stem. Grasping it firmly in my jaws, I take the trail that leads west into the pine-covered hills beyond Mount Nerito. The wolves will reach it tonight coming from the other direction. Along the way, I stop at the goat barn at the far end of my master’s land.

  Several goats stand along the fence, chewing the grass between the rails. I drop the berry stem and trot over to them. I find a doe that has recently given birth and push aside its nursing kids until my own belly is full of goat milk. If my plan fails and I swallow poison berry juice, perhaps it will save me.

  After several hours I reach the spot I’ve chosen for my plan, an overgrown valley with a small clearing surrounded by large rocks on two sides and a steep drop-off into a ravine on a third. A small creek trickles some distance away. Many deer come there to drink. And so do their hunters. But the location suits me: a mountain wolf pack cannot surround me here. Best of all, the place smells of boar, for it once served as the lair of a boar sow. Telemachos himself had killed it, with my help.