“I seem to have lost my harp.” Hermes settled down on a boulder next to the giant resting there. “Could you keep an eye out for me, Argus?”
“If I could catch you, you foul freak, I’d tear that smirk from your face and cast it to the Heavens. Maybe there it would entertain us with its specter’s grin.” Argus Panoptes lounged, as he could, beneath a silver-leaved olive tree. He shifted his bulk to glare at the upstart god Hermes. “Do some good and fan me a breeze with your sparrow’s wings, eh?”
Zeus’ spy pinched his lips and beckoned for the many-eyed giant’s wine-pouch. “Give us a draught Argus, Helios, he’s relentless today.”
Suspicious, yet congenial, Argus passed over his bota. “The heifer, she gets lonely. Perchance you could play us a tune, invite the local children to come and cheer her up.”
Hermes coughed after his extended draw. “Why… Why that’s an excellent idea.” The messenger pulled from his satchel his cherry wood instrument.
“Found your lyre did you?”
“Ah, well, when I fly, I get so caught up…”
“Play. Something lively.”
The winged god passed back the pouch of wine, magically refilled, and began to stroke the strings of the horseshoe shaped harp. Argus squeezed the bag, filling his mouth again and again. He allowed a dozen eyes to settle closed while the many others scanned the rock strewn landscape, always keeping the white cow in sight.
Soon, children began to arrive and dance to the music. Sathena, the nimblest of the group, came up to wonder at and touch the giant but Hermes waved her off. “Let him rest. His job taxes him so.”
Hermes’ music slowed and sleep eventually came to Argus. The children wandered off and the spy gained his chance.