Argos (10 page)

They each lower their heads as they pass under the boulder, then they trot away, heading west. For a moment—just a moment—I feel like following them. I would be their new leader, and I would spend the rest of my days hunting and raising litter after litter of strong pups. But that is not my fate. I belong to the house of Odysseus, and there I have to return. I must see my master again, if he lives, as the birds say he does. And Telemachos still has much to learn from me.

Just as I think this, the magpie returns, alighting on a branch above me. He says nothing; instead, he looks down at the destruction below him and whistles.

“You still live, Argos?” he asks.

“I do, clever magpie.”

“You have your master's cunning.”

“Perhaps. Now, do this for me, most eloquent of birds. Spread the word throughout the forests of Ithaka, what I have done here. Tell the mountain wolves on the north and the south to keep their packs small and to hunt only game. Tell them Argos the Boar Slayer has tasted wolf blood and found it to his liking.”

“So I shall,” he says. Then he spreads his wings, and in a few moments he is flying north, cawing loudly now that he has something worthwhile to say.

I leap down from the boulder and begin the long run back to our land. I am bleeding from many bites, and my left ear is shredded.

I am no longer the handsomest dog on Ithaka,
I think.

A
gull has circled twice overhead, and then when I bark at it, the bird lands on the ridge overlooking the path down to the harbor. A moment later, a dozen or more gulls land near him.

“What news do you bring from over the sea, Shell Eater?” I ask the first gull when I reach him.

“Only this, loyal one. An owl has arrived on your island. He has news of your master, whom I followed for three days after he sailed from the underworld without stopping to anchor, finally landing again on Aiaia. I left soon after, but you must find this unblinking one, for he knows Circe and will tell you more.”

“More, more, more,” cry the other gulls.

“How will I find him, White Wing? The forests here are
thick and owls are difficult to see, even for a tracker such as I.”

“Go to the tallest tree on the island, Boar Slayer. This owl is vain, having lived with the goddess, and always seeks to occupy the highest perch. There, I am sure, you will find him.”

“Find him, find him, find him,” they repeat.

“Thank you, fair gull,” I say. “I wish gentle winds for you and your brethren.”

“One cannot control the wind, Argos. Now hurry and seek the owl before night falls and he begins his hunting. If he leaves his tree, you will not find him.”

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” his brothers call.

The gull spreads his white wings and rises above me. Then he dips one wing and circles away, flying effortlessly down to the shore, where the retreating tide has left glittering shells exposed. The flock follows a moment later. I turn and run the other way, deep into the piney woods. I know the tallest tree on Ithaka, a juniper to the north of my master's farm. I had tracked a stag there once, and Telemachos's arrow had found its heart. I reach the place just as Apollo's chariot sinks below the western hills. I stand on my rear legs and brace my front legs against the trunk, looking up through the branches.

“Father Owl,” I call, “are you there? I am Argos, the Boar
Slayer, loyal dog of brave Odysseus. The gulls told me I'd find you here.”

Several moments pass, and I am fearing the owl has already left for its hunt when I hear a rustling sound high in the branches above me. I jump back just in time, as a thick excrescence explodes on the ground beside me.

“Did I hit you-you-you, Boar Slayer?” the owl calls down to me.

“Nearly, Mouse Hunter,” I called back. “But I shall not stand so close next time.”

“See that you-you-you don't. Now that you-you-you have awakened me, what do you-you-you want? Be quick, for my belly growls.”

“I seek news of my master, Odysseus, Sir Owl. I hear that you were on Circe's island, Aiaia, when he returned from the underworld. Is that so?”

“It might be. But why should I tell you-you-you what I know? What can you-you-you do for me in return?”

“What could a fierce hunter such as yourself desire? Is there not enough prey on this island for you?”

“The hares here are easily caught, it is true-true-true, as are the smaller rodents. What I desire tonight, though, is fowl. But not tough old biddies. Tell me, on your farm, are there
young chicks, newly hatched, scratching for seeds? If so, show me where I might find them, and I'll tell you-you-you of your master's return to Aiaia, for I was there when his ship arrived.”

I do not hesitate to answer.

“Yes, Sir Owl. On my farm there are chicks, hatched not three weeks back. I will drive them from their coop tonight if you tell me truthfully what you saw on that cursed island.”

Then I hear a great beat of wings, and suddenly the owl swoops out of the juniper and alights on the lowest branch of a tree next to me. Its black tufted ears stand straight up, and its round eyes stare at me unblinking.

“Hear these words, then, Argos, for I was there with Circe when your master arrived, still pale from his journey to the underworld and lamenting his fate.”

“Once Odysseus and his men beached, he sent men to retrieve the body of Elpenor from the house of Circe, so that he might be buried as he asked. When they had done so, and planted the oar on his funeral mound, Circe appeared, along with her servants, bearing meat and shining red wine. Glorious in her gown, she addressed Odysseus and his companions: ‘Unhappy men, sent alive to Hades, so dying twice, come eat and rest here all the day. Tomorrow, before you set sail, I'll
show you the way home so that no more unhappiness follows you.'

“Hearing this, I think your master's heart was gladdened, and he and his men feasted on the unlimited meat and never-ending wine until night came, and all of your master's men fell asleep on the beach. But I was awake and saw Circe take your master by the hand and lead him away from his men. She bade him to tell her of his visit to the underworld, and when he had done so, she said, ‘You did what I asked, so now I will tell you all.'

“‘Brave Odysseus, your journey will not be easy, for many of the gods are with you, but many too are displeased. So you must listen carefully and do exactly as I say. The winds will carry you east for two days, and you will reach a sea flecked with foam and dark as wine. There by this sea live the Sirens. They are enchanters of all who are human, and no sailor who has heard them has ever returned to delight his wife and children.”

Did my master think then of his wife, Penelope, and his fine son, Telemachos?
I wonder, but I say nothing,
and the owl continues with Circe's warning.

“‘Truly, the beach where they sit is piled high with the bone heaps of men who sailed too close so that they might listen to
their enchanting melodies. So you must sail straight on past or you will perish there, and your bones will be added to the pile.'

“Then your master asked, ‘But how can we sail past them, fair goddess, for we are men and yield easily to temptation? And I would willingly listen to their songs, for I have heard they are as beautiful as has ever been sung.' Circe shook her head and then clasped your master's arm.

“‘If you wish to see your wife and son, you must do this: before you reach the Sirens, melt beeswax and stop your companions' ears so that none can listen. But if you yourself want to listen, have your men bind you to the mast, hand and foot, with knots you cannot untie. Then tell your men that no matter how much you beg them to untie you, they must not, for if they do, you will surely leap from your ship and drown. And if you implore them further, they must bind you with more lashings until you have passed the enchanters. Will you do this, brave Odysseus?' Circe said.

“‘I will do so, Goddess,' your master promised.”

“Surely my master will follow her counsel, Sir Owl!” I cry.

“Interrupt me not, Boar Slayer, if you-you-you wish to hear the tale.” The owl snaps his fiercely crooked beak.

I bow my head, and after a few moments the owl clears his throat.

“Then Circe continued. ‘There is more to tell, I fear,' she said. ‘After you have passed the Sirens, you will come upon a giant rock, which divides the sea into two courses. You must decide then which course to take, but I will tell you first what you will encounter on each side. On one side, there are giant swells and overhanging cliffs, which not even a sparrow can pass through. Of all the men who have tried to sail this way, only Jason and his ship passed safely through, and that was with the aid of a goddess. Now, on the other side is a high peak covered always in cloud, and halfway down that towering rock, there is a cave. Inside that cave, the monster Skylla lives, whose howling is terror.'

“At those words, your master shook his head. ‘Monsters can be slain, fair Circe,' the Wily One said.

“‘No one, not even a god, would want to face Skylla,' Circe replied. ‘She has twelve feet and six long necks upon her. On each neck, there is a hideous head with three rows of teeth, full of black death. Her body from the waist down remains hidden, holed down into the cavern, and from there she fishes, looking for dolphins or dogfish or anything larger. Never has a ship passed her without losing men, for she snatches at least one sailor with each of her heads and carries them off.'

“‘Then I should choose the other course, fair goddess,'
your master said grimly.

“‘Brave one, the choice is more difficult than that. If you choose the second course, you pass by a lower cliff adorned with fig trees.'

“‘And what monster resides there?' Odysseus asked.

“‘No monster, brave Odysseus,' the goddess said. ‘But instead a black whirlpool called Charybdis. Three times a day she sucks the sea down into her black hole, and not even Poseidon could rescue you if your ship is caught. So hearing this, I urge you to steer clear of Charybdis and instead make for Skylla's rock, for it is better to mourn six friends than lose your entire ship and all its company.'

“Your master thought deeply on this for some time and then said, ‘Come then, Goddess, answer me truthfully. Is there not some way to sail around Charybdis and then fight off the monster Skylla when she attacks my companions?'

“Fair Circe shook her head, her tresses rustling like the leaves in a storm.

“‘Intrepid warrior! Your mind is forever full of fighting and battle. Will you not give way even to the gods? She is not mortal, but an
immortal
thing, monstrous and bloodthirsty; there is no fighting against her, nor is there any defense. Your only hope is to run from her, for if you waste time arming yourself
and slowing your ship to aim your spears and arrows, she is likely to attack twice, thus killing twelve men and not six.'

“Truly then, Argos, your master sighed and covered his face in his hands so that the goddess could not see his grief. Then, after he had composed himself, he said, ‘I have heard you, Goddess, though your advice pains me dear. Tell me more, though. After we escape dread Skylla, what travails await us then?'”

“More hardship awaits my master?” I cry out.

“Foo-foo-foolish pet,” the owl says. “You-you-you who-who-who have never left this island know nothing of life beyond its shores. The gods play with man as you-you-you would a pup, teasing him and allowing to think himself brave and powerful, only to strike him with a sharp claw. That is the way with gods. Now, let me continue, for I grow hungry, and you-you-you have promised me soft-boned chicks for dinner.

“Here is what the goddess said: ‘Good Odysseus, after you have sailed clear of the monster, you will, after a few days, reach the island of Thrinakia, where you will see pastured on the meadows there fat cattle, sheep, and oxen. Teiresias himself told you this, did he not? So if you obey him and leave the flocks alone, keeping your mind fixed on your return to Ithaka, you will all make your way home, after much suffering.
But if you disobey Teiresias and harm his flocks, then I will allow the gods to take their revenge, and though you might still reach Ithaka, none of your companions will.'”

I jump to my feet and growl. “He will lose all his companions? That cannot be! Surely you misremember what she said, wise owl!”

“I misremember nothing, dog! That is my curse. Now sit and listen; my story is nearly done, for just then golden Eos herself came, bathing your master and fair Circe in her light. I left when Eos appeared, as owls may not be seen in daylight without bringing bad luck, so I know not what your master said in reply to Circe. That is my tale, though it be one of woe to you-you-you and your master.”

For a moment I say nothing. How could I, after hearing my master's fate? Finally, though, I speak. “I thank you, then, for recounting your tale, Father Owl. Now, as to my end of the bargain, give me time to return to my master's farmland, and I shall drive the chicks out into their open coop where you will find them defenseless against your sharp talons, though I risk a beating for doing so.”

“Who-who-who would lay a hand against Odysseus's hound, Boar Slayer?”

“In truth, there is only one who would dare it. His name is
Melanthios and his charge is the lesser animals, the fowl and some sheep. But think nothing of it, Night Flyer. My sharp teeth will find his flesh soon enough.”

Saying that, I make my way back to my master's land and do as I had promised. But the owl does not come, nor does he appear on the next night. On the third afternoon, a magpie tells me that a great owl had been seen flying north toward shrouded Mount Nerito, and I wonder then if I had spoken to a goddess instead of an owl, for they often take the shape of animals.