“In that case,” I said, “we would be grateful if you would carry us.”
Geryon raised his eyebrows—all six—and the three of him looked at one another as though carrying on an unspoken conversation. “I’d love to help you,” he said. “And so would I. My dog seems to like yours, and any friend of Orthos is a friend of mine. And mine. In fact, to tell the truth, I haven’t seen him this happy since his brother left for the land of the gluttons.”
Talking to Geryon was like trying to sing three songs at once, but I was beginning to get the hang of it. If I just focused on one of him, I would eventually piece together what all three were trying to say.
“But in the end, it just isn’t my job,” he explained. “I’m a sentry, not a ferryman. And the same goes for us. But I’ll tell you what,” he said, leaning over to scratch Argos behind the ear. “I’ve always felt I was one dog short. Me too. You leave your dog with me, and I’ll take the three of you down.”
“No,” I said. “Not my dog. I lost him once already. I’m not losing him again. Can’t I give you something else?”
“Believe me, if I wanted something else of yours, I’d have taken it by now,” said Geryon with a friendly wink. “But the dog is yours to give. If I tried to take him by force, he’d hate me. Besides,” he added, “if I’m going to fly you somewhere, there’s only so much I can carry. A man has only six hands, you know, and that big fellow”—he nodded at Ajax—“is going to be a load all by himself. I figure there’s three of me and three of you. Leave out the dog, and I should be able to take you all down in one trip.”
I looked again at Argos, who had rolled onto his back in ecstasy. Geryon was petting him with all six hands.
“I’ll take good care of him. Honest.”
Diomedes leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “This is our chance to ditch Proteus.”
I wracked my brain for an alternative, but none presented itself. “Look here,” I said, swallowing back a lump in my throat, “once I’m done with this mission, I’ll be returning for my wife. When I do, you’re going to give me back my dog.”
“Son,” said Geryon, breaking into three wide grins, “if I ever see you again or your wife, I’ll not only return your dog, I’ll take the whole bunch of you anywhere you like. No one has ever made it back from where you’re going.”
By now, Argos had made his way back to Orthos, and the two were lying side by side in the sand, panting. From time to time, one of Orthos’ heads would lean over and give Argos an affectionate nip. “Well,” I thought to myself as I trudged over, “at least I won’t be leaving him alone.”
Argos wagged his tail as I walked up, and that little gesture made me miss him already. He had been a good dog, a loyal friend in an age of treachery. Yet I had abandoned him to an ignoble death. I crouched to look him in the eyes. He stretched out his wet tongue and gave my nose a swipe.
“That’s it,” I said. I stood up and wheeled about to face Geryon. “The deal is off. I’m not giving you my dog.”
Geryon shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Diomedes ran over to me. “Listen to what you’re saying. You don’t even know for sure this is Argos.”
“It’s Argos. I know him as well as I know my own right hand.”
“So you’re going to jeopardize this entire mission for a dog?”
“For Argos.”
“But still just a dog, Odysseus. A dumb animal.”
“That dumb animal saved my life more than once.”
“It’s a dog,” he cried. “It spends half its life licking itself and the other half sleeping. Are you really going to risk everything for a creature that eats its own feces?”
I looked hard at Diomedes. “I’m going to pretend that wasn’t clever and put it to you this way—I’ve said too many good-byes, Diomedes. I won’t say another. If you want to give that monster a new pet, give him Dionysus.”
Diomedes looked down at Dionysus and scowled. “Your dog means more to you than I do.”
“That’s not it at all,” I said.
Diomedes leaned closer. His face was pale and drawn. “That is it exactly,” he said, “and I won’t allow you to do this.”
“It’s not a question of you allowing me anything,” I answered. “He’s my dog. Besides that, I’m the leader here. I make the decisions for us both.”
“Not anymore, Odysseus. You’re giving Argos away, and I won’t argue over it. You’ll give him away for the sake of our friendship, or you’ll give him away at knifepoint.”
“Is that so?” I said, reaching for my sword. It wasn’t there.
“It is so,” he answered. He had my sword in his hand. I hadn’t even seen him take it. “And we’re not going to fight over it.”
“You took my sword,” I gasped.
Diomedes smiled. “You are the smart one.”
“What’s wrong with you?” I said. It seemed like ever since we’d left the walls of Dis, he just hadn’t been himself. Then a horrible suspicion crept over me. “You’re not Diomedes, are you?”
He threw back his head and laughed.
“You . . . you’re Proteus!”
This time he laughed so hard, he nearly dropped my sword. I considered hitting him while his guard was down, but if this were Proteus . . .
“Enough bickering,” said a voice at our feet. I looked down, bewildered. It was Dionysus talking. He shook his head vigorously, then stood up on his hind legs. I heard a sound like snapping twigs, and a familiar odor of seaweed filled the air as the little dog stretched and yawned and pushed himself into the shape of a monkey, a child, an ape . . . a man—an old man with sea-blue hair.
CHAPTER 13
A BARGAIN STRUCK
GERYON GASPED and Ajax whooped and Argos sprung to my side, growling.
Diomedes stopped laughing and turned to face the old man. “You promised you’d keep out of this.”
“And you promised you would handle Odysseus,” answered Proteus. He was half the size of Diomedes and frail as the froth on a wave, but he spoke with authority.
“He what?” I said. “You what?” I couldn’t bring myself to believe what I was seeing. My heart began to race, and I suddenly felt exceedingly hot. My teeth seemed to hum in my mouth.
Betrayal. I had been betrayed.
I focused on my breathing. I had to stay calm. I needed space to think. “Ajax,” I said, “Diomedes has betrayed us.” I had to think of a way out—a strategy to turn the odds back in my favor. “But why?”
Diomedes’ voice was flat and dead. “Tell me the number of men you have betrayed, Odysseus. List for me the names of the women. Tell me how you became the Man of Many Faces. Then I’ll tell you why.”
Aiki, he was right! I couldn’t count the number of promises I’d broken. I’d made allies for the very purpose of betraying them. And my friends? I couldn’t name a single one that I hadn’t double-crossed at some point. Yet this was the first time I myself had been betrayed.
I didn’t know how to respond, how to feel. I leaned against Argos and placed a trembling hand on his head.
Meanwhile, Ajax was still trying to figure Proteus out. “Who is this guy? And what happened to the little dog?”
“He’s a shapeshifter,” I answered. “Diomedes has been plotting with him against us.”
Ajax looked at Diomedes and frowned.
“It’s not true,” said Diomedes. “Odysseus is the traitor.”
Ajax looked at me and frowned.
I felt a little breath of panic. I needed Ajax on my side. “Diomedes is lying,” I said.
He looked at Diomedes.
“Judge for yourself,” said Diomedes. “Which one of us is more likely to lie?”
That settled it for Ajax. He walked over behind Diomedes and planted his spear.
Proteus groaned. “You three really are as stupid as you look.” He walked between us and stood there, examining his nails. He had a bluish, cadaverous face and hardly any eyebrows or eyelashes to speak of. His eyes were a
sort of red green, and he had lank, cold, sweaty-looking palms that he was constantly rubbing together. One hand was missing a finger. “Listen to me now, all of you. The four of us are going to make our way together to the lowest ring of nether Hell. When we arrive there, it is fully my intention to hand the three of you over to an eternity of torture and misery. In exchange, I expect to earn myself a place of privilege in this gods-forsaken world.”
“Why would I ever agree to that?” I said, still baffled by Diomedes’ betrayal, and hoping that something Proteus would say might make sense of it.
“For exactly the same reason that your friend has agreed to it—namely, I give you no choice.”
“One always has a choice,” I replied.
Proteus sighed again and wiped his brow with a corner of his cloak. “Not now, you don’t. Besides that, you need my help. We are all three headed to the same place. Your odds of getting there are better if I come along. What actually happens once we arrive at our destination is quite beside the point.”
Diomedes turned to Proteus. “But our deal was—”
“All deals are off now that you have let the wind out of the bag.”
I looked at Diomedes. “Deal? How long have you known?”
He rolled his eyes. “Since the burning wall. I made the arrangement with Proteus while you were asleep. Don’t act so surprised.”
“You tricked me,” I said. Frankly, I was still having trouble getting my mind around it. Disloyalty was as foreign to Diomedes as truthfulness was to me.
“I didn’t trick you,” he said. “I made an arrangement without your permission. Proteus didn’t want you to know, so I made the deal on your behalf. I took the initiative. He said he would help us so long as I kept it a secret. And it would have worked out to your advantage if you hadn’t put your dog ahead of your best friend.”
“You made a deal with the enemy behind my back,” I said. “How could that ever work to my advantage?” Perhaps if I could just get him to lower his guard, even for a few seconds, I might at least recover my sword. But then what?
“Proteus kept the Minotaur away, didn’t he?”
“How do you know? Maybe he’s in league with him as well.”
“You see? I knew you wouldn’t trust me. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
Proteus groaned. “I have had quite enough of this. I have been listening to the two of you bicker ever since the river Acheron. Odysseus, you are coming with Diomedes and me to the next level. You will leave your dog with Geryon. That is final.”
“You can’t make me go,” I said.
“Of course not,” answered Proteus. “You will come along willingly because failure is your only alternative.”
“But you just said you would betray us.” I had a good look at Proteus. This man was sharper than he let on.
“You can’t stay here, though, can you?”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Proteus looked up from his nails and twitched. “Come with us, or I’ll kill your dog.” The nails of one hand stretched into talons.
Again, the air felt thin. I put a hand on Argos’ back and leaned heavily against him. Could this be true? I reached again for my missing sword. How could I have let this happen?
Proteus shook his head. “Look at yourself. You spent your whole life lying and scheming. Now suddenly you are shocked to see someone else do it.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Geryon called to us from where he stood at the edge of the lagoon. “I hate to interrupt—we all do—but would you make up your minds? There are other things I would rather be doing right now. Me too. I could use a nap. Agreed.”
“You lost this round,” said Proteus. “You have no choice.”
He was right. Though it killed me to have to admit it, Diomedes had outwitted me. There was no way I could fight Ajax, Proteus, and him together. Not without a plan. For that, I needed time.
I knelt before Argos and took his big head in my hands. A long string of drool hung forlornly from his lower lip. “Old friend,” I said. My voice cracked a little as I worked up the words. “I’m going to have to leave you here for a while, but I’m coming back.” Argos sucked up the drool and shut his mouth. “You be a good dog. Don’t cause Geryon any trouble. And when I return, I’ll bring you a lamb shank all to yourself.” He shook his ears and licked my nose again. “Good boy.” I gave his big head a rub.
I stood up, blinking back tears. Diomedes turned away. I spoke to Geryon. “Let’s go.”
Geryon nodded. “You know, you could just stay here with us. Things aren’t so unpleasant. We sleep a lot.” One of his heads nodded in agreement.
I shook my head. I was out of words. For now.
“Then I think I should warn you, the lower reaches of Hell are ugly.” Diomedes shrugged. “Everything here is ugly.”
“Not like this,” answered Geryon. “You will see things down there that make even my stomachs turn. The suffering is terrible, and the criminals tortured there are of the most vile and despicable sort. Not just thieves and murderers—we’ve plenty of those in the seventh circle. These folks were purposeful about their evil. They planned and savored it. I’m talking about traitors, witches, tyrants, torturers, seducers, and sadists of the worst sort . . . and then of course there’s him . . .”
The way he said it made Argos look up and prick his ears.
“You mean Hades?”
“Hades? Pah!” Geryon laughed and spit in the sand. “I pull a hair for Hades. Me too. But him . . . He is far uglier than Hades. And more beautiful, in a strange sort of way. He is the one who started all this. Built this place from the ground down—or so he says, and I am not about to contradict him.”
Again, Geryon was speaking in riddles, but from his tone, I could tell he was serious. Whoever he was, the great Geryon was afraid of him. “You’ll have to get past him to get out, you know, if that’s what you’re planning. And believe me, you’re not the first to try. Just wait till you see him.” All three Geryons shuddered together. “I wish you luck, though. Really, I do. And so do I. Let me know if it works out.”
He stooped over and tucked Diomedes under one arm like a child, then reached for Proteus.
“I shall fly down on my own,” Proteus said, “but thank you just the same.” Then he screwed his face into an ugly grimace and started to sweat. The more he perspired, the more he shrank, as though the water itself were holding him together. “You don’t have to watch,” he grumbled. Then there was a shower of snapping bones, feathers sprouted out all over his body, and he assumed the shape of an eagle.
All three of Geryon’s faces looked surprised. “Well now, that is something I have never seen before. Me either. Extraordinary. How do you do it, if you don’t mind me asking?”
But Proteus just hopped a few paces off and glared at him.
Geryon shrugged. “Just as well. This big one is going to be more difficult to carry.” He reached for Ajax. “Come to think of it, I may need an extra pair of hands. Is that acceptable to you? Fine by me. Looks like Odysseus, the Son of Laertes, will have to ride on my back. Hold on tight. It is a long fall if you slip off.”
I smiled at Argos, who barked uneasily. Then I climbed up one of Geryon’s legs and burrowed into his fur like a tick. Through the forest of ropy locks, I watched my faithful hound pace to and fro in the sand, barking in sharp bursts.
“I’m coming back for you, Argos,” I shouted as Geryon stretched out his wings. “Be good till I get back.” I wasn’t sure I believed what I was saying, but it made me feel a little better, and in spite of Argos’ howls, I turned my attention to the journey ahead.
Geryon’s mane was almost long enough to cover me completely, so I felt safe enough—that is, until we took flight. The giant made three or four great bounds along the shore with Argos and Orthos yapping alongside, then made one tremendous leap, stretched out his wings, and launched us into the air. I felt a few moments of cool elation as the waters of the lagoon skimmed beneath us; then we plunged
over the edge of a vast waterfall, and all that lay below was a deep, inky void—dark and fathomless as fate.
I heard Diomedes shriek, but my own view was obstructed by the monster’s thick fur, so I closed my eyes, wound my fists into his mane, and winged a prayer to the Parthenos. “Gentle Virgin, protect my dog. Protect my wife and my son. Shelter them beneath your shield, and if I am to join them soon, let our reunion be one of joy.”
I bowed my head, grit my teeth, and held on with all my strength. The darkness thickened until I could no longer tell if my eyes were open or closed. Yet I could feel that we were winding downward in slow, broad circles, for the clammy air of the chasm fluttered against my cheeks and chilled the sweat on my scalp. So too I could hear the swish and thump of Geryon’s beating wings, punctuated from time to time by a shout from Ajax—and the cry of an eagle wheeling on our left.
After a while, I began to detect the slightest blush of light, and as Geryon banked off a turn, I was granted a striking, if momentary, view of the realm that awaited us. My first impression was that of looking into an enormous eye, its blue center cloudy and cadaverous, ringed in circles of flame. It seemed to regard me with mute animosity until it was hidden again by my mount’s dark contour, and only when we were much nearer our destination was I granted another view. This time, it resembled more closely the landscape I had been expecting, and I found to my surprise that I was inclined to admire its undulating ridges and valleys. In its own way, the landscape of Hell possessed a terrible sort of symmetric beauty. It shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, if evil were entirely ugly, everyone would be good.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. The long and short of it is this: I found that I was both horrified and thrilled by the landscape—“the Realm of the Leopard”, as Chiron had labeled it on his map. Stony ridges separated one valley from the next, and between them, the souls of the wicked wailed and thrashed in ceaseless torment. Like aphids clustered among the petals of some withering flower, they shifted about in endless perambulations, their indistinguishable curses rising up to me in one sizzling roar. Or was that the roar of the flames themselves? It was impossible to tell from such a height, and the closer we drew, the less I wanted to know. I hid my face and prayed.
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