Argos: The Bell-Ringer

Bright, young Argos—named for the ship—looked down from his perch above the town in the steeple of the chapel.  It was from this spot he normally tracked her movements.  To the florist; from the florist to the bayside inn; from the bay-side inn to the bench near the chapel where the pigeons congregated to eat the stale bread she left for them.

Normally, that is, but today her route through town wound itself in a knot through the streets.  Constance led a solemn group of mourners processing past the florist (the establishment—the florist himself trailed the procession) and past the bay-side inn and around the fountain where the statue of Wilhelm in his military garb saluted the passers-by.  They processed round the butcher's corner and over the stone bridge to the chapel where the pigeons congregate.  A blind saint welcomed them from his mantle—his eyes, once pale garnets, had been missing four times as long as Argos was old.  Constance looked up to the steeple where Argos sat entranced.  A tinge of heat brought on rosy cheeks in the lad whose employer's voice echoed up the wooden steeple:

"The bells! The bells!"

Argos hopped to his heels and skipped down the rickety stairs three at a time.  Six ropes as thick as his neck (that is to say, thick for a rope and thin for a neck) dangled below, each with a colored ribbon tied around it to denote the tenor of its accompanied bell.  He pulled on the rope with the deep ocean-blue ribbon and its solemn, respectful tone washed over the funeral procession.  Startled birds took flight—our pigeon congregation and about a half a flock more.  As the bell slowly faded out Argos waited for his next moment: another pull of the ocean-blue ribboned bell—just at the right moment—he pulled as firmly as he could on the funeral bell for the second time, renewing its vigor. 

The birds were already gone by then and the funeral attendants slowly milled their way out of the courtyard where the pigeons once congregated and into the room of the chapel where the service was to take place.  Argos waited for the bell's clapper to lose steam a second time and pulled on the rope for the third and final time.  This time the courtyard was empty of both folk and fowl.