There's No Place That Far

Iphicles had listened to Herc relate the story of Nico, along with the details of the adventure with the stone panther, with a bemused expression on his face. At one point, he had waved a hand to Hercules to stop while he called for wine and refreshments...Herc had been right, it was a long story...and one that deserved toasting with the finest from the royal cellars. Iolaus had remained uncharacteristically quiet, sitting a little apart from the two brothers. This was Herc's story to tell, and Nico's....but, the wide grin on his face, his warm chuckles at Iphicles' amazement, and the brilliant sparkle of his eyes were testament to his perspective on the life altering events. Nico had stood in the circle of his father's arm, as Herc sat across from Iphicles in comfortable chairs before the fire. Even in the warmth of the late spring, the interior of the Palace could be cool.

Hercules had edited part of the story...he had not wanted to burden Nico with the truth of how he had miraculously recovered from the panther's vicious attack, anymore than Iolaus had wanted Nico to know of the deal he had made with Artemis. The kid was too young to have to worry about debts owed...and Iolaus did not feel he was owed anything...his act had been a gift, pure and simple. Herc was only too aware Nico had not talked about what had happened, not a word. Hercules believed it was because Nico was too uncomfortable with the memories...he didn't know Nico had made his own assumptions about how he had been healed. Iphicles, however, could read the two men, their tones and gestures...when they made eye contact...when they didn't...told him a great deal was being left unspoken. No matter, he'd learn it all in good time.

Iphicles' eyes rested on the boy from time to time, and he couldn't help but notice Nico did not make eye contact. The kid was clearly uncomfortable around him. Well, time would cure that, too. He had meant it when he'd told Iolaus beside the pool at the foot of the hills he would do anything for this child...and now, the kid was family! He could not repress his smile of amazed delight, did not try. His brother had suffered much in his personal life. To have found a son, one as fine as Nico especially, was a long overdue gift from the Fates.

When Hercules finished the tale, for once not rushing through it, but lingering over his sense of incredible good fortune in having found his son, and generous with the details of Iolaus' struggle with the panther, Iphicles leaned back in his chair for a moment, just gazing at his brother, and his nephew, with a quiet smile. "This is wonderful news, Hercules....congratulations, to both of you." Then, he leaned forward, his happiness with the news unbridled, as he lifted his goblet toward his family, including Iolaus in the gesture, "A toast...a toast to our good fortune in finding Nico...to welcome him with joy," Iph turned to fully face Nico, reaching out to touch his shoulder to draw up his eyes, he finished quietly, "and with love, to our family!"

"I'll drink to that!" responded Iolaus enthusiastically, waving his goblet at them, as Herc smiled broadly and clicked his goblet against Iph's. The formal welcome completed, Iphicles leaned further forward, holding Nico's eyes, "I mean it, Nico, I am delighted...more than delighted, with this news. You're the best thing to happen to any of us in a very, very long time. I want you to know that my home is your's...that you must never hesitate to ask anything of me...there is nothing I would not do for you."

Nico gazed into the King's eyes, seeing the absolute sincerity of the man's words. He smiled tentatively, then more broadly when Iph grinned back at him. "Thank you," he murmured, not sure what else he could say....his cockiness seemed to have abandoned him for the moment. Iph leaned back, understanding the lad needed time to get his bearings...the kid had been riding a whirlwind for a week now. It had to be confusing, unsettling, no matter how good the changes in his life might be.

Iph turned his glance back to Hercules, "Well, we'll need to get the three of you settled into some permanent quarters...I'm glad, really glad about this, Hercules. I've never seen enough of you and Iolaus...now, for the first time, we can be a family together....I've wanted that for a long time."

Iolaus had smiled quietly down into his wine goblet. There had been difficult years, times when Herc and Iph had not been close...times when Iph had not particularly cared for his brother's best friend. But, those times had passed, thank the gods. He cast a sidelong look at his partner. Herc needed this...needed family, even though he pretended a life constantly lived on the road had been fine with him. It was going to be alright. Iolaus stretched in the chair, easing his injured leg into a more comfortable position. Life in a Palace had always felt a bit constraining to him...but, he was getting older, too, and had no objection to a comfortable bed, good food and good company. There would still be adventures, more than enough...he didn't have to worry about that! He sighed contentedly as he finished off the wine in his goblet.

Herc had smiled at Iph's words, his heart warmed by them. "Thanks, Iph," he murmured, "I'm glad, too." When he'd been a kid, he'd idolized this older brother, and the years of estrangement had been painful for him. Now, finally, his life seemed to be coming into alignment. He turned his smile on his son, noted with no surprise that Nico seemed to be wilting. It had been a long journey and it was time to get his boy to bed. He tightened his grip around Nico, pulling him closer, as he turned back to his brother. "Well, we can sort out the details of our new living arrangements tomorrow...for now, I think I need to get these two settled for the night." He grinned at the look Iolaus threw at him...chuckling when his friend responded, in a dutiful voice, "Yes, Dad, time to tuck us in!"

Laughing, Iphicles stood, to lead them from the room. As he passed Iolaus, he stopped momentarily, his hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "I'll send my healer to take a look at that leg, Iolaus...to put a clean bandage on it." Iolaus smiled in return, "Thanks...I'd appreciate that."

Iphicles had led his family through the long hallways of the Palace, calling directions to servants on the way to bring the healer, to bring hot water and towels for their baths, and to bring fruit and jugs of cool water to their rooms. He had made sure they were settled comfortably, then left them for the night. It didn't take any of them long to settle down for the first night in their new home.

As he headed back toward his own quarters, Iphicles reflected again on the more than surprising turn of events. He was not a man to be overly demonstrative, but he loved his brother...and his brother's irrepressible best friend. He was honestly happy for Herc's good fortune, and the opportunity he had to share in it. Standing for a moment, gazing out of a window cut through the stone of the Palace wall, staring sightlessly down upon his City, he realized how much he had needed this good news, and the new energy, and hope for the future, which it gave him. He'd been engaged in seemingly endless negotiations with the Governor from Rome, over the details of new treaties and modified tribute requirements.

It had been a little more than six months since the combination of Iolaus' resistance movement and his and Hercules' diplomatic efforts with the other leaders in Greece, had won the concession of new negotiations from the representatives of the Empire. But, the concession to negotiate, and the actual conclusion of new agreements, were vastly different things. After the first two weeks of circuitous discussion, the other leaders had grown weary of the process, and had left Iphicles to negotiate on their behalf. He had been weary of the process, too, but lacked the same option of pulling up stakes and leaving the details to someone else.

If he had been weary of it then, he was heartily sick of it now. He had known their triumph in the square outside the Hall of Assembly had been too easily won. Rome did not give up her perogatives that lightly. Progress was being made, and eventually, a more reasonable set of treaties would result...but, the process was slow and painstaking....and incredibly boring, mindnumbing. Still, he knew this was also one of Rome's ploys, so he endured, kept his focus, and his temper, gradually bringing the Romans to heel. Another month, and it should be done...maybe sooner, given his newfound energy...seeing him feeling fresh and ready to take on the world would discourage the Romans! He had grinned to himself and headed off to his own bed, ready to take up the gauntlet again with the dawn.

That had been two months ago. Iph's private prediction had been overly optomistic...the final treaties were just now being copied into documents for the other leaders of Greece to consider, and hopefully sign. He wanted the process to be over. The only bright spots in the last, interminable weeks, had been the moments he had spent with his family. It had taken a week to set up the new quarters to his satisfaction...and slight embarrassment of his brother and Iolaus. Neither of them was used to luxury, and would have been content with a good soft mattress of fresh hay and fragrant clover in a bare room. Iph made certain they had solid beds, with goose down stuffed pillows, mattresses and coverlets, carpets to warm the floors, cupboards for their possessions, meagre as they were, additional clothing to put in those cupboards, beautiful pottery bowls, jugs and goblets, spicy potpourie to scent the chambers, rich thick towels, tapestries for the walls. He'd had the most fun making sure Nico was well supplied with clothing, boots, sandals, a cloak, a knife and miniature sword, a bow and arrows and scrolls from his library...scrolls of ancient myths and adventures, scrolls describing the known world, scrolls to entertain and scrolls to inform. He'd also taken a hand in selecting Nico's tutor and was well pleased with his choice. Aristides was a man old enough to brook no nonsense, to exert discipline in the classroom, and young enough to remember a boy needed space and time to run free.

Iphicles smiled to himself. It was good to have a boy in the Palace again. His own son had been fostered out four months before, to the King of Sparta, as was the custom, to affirm good relations between the two kingdoms, and to allow the Prince to build his own relationships with future allies. Iph had chosen Sparta for two principal reasons. First, Corinth and Sparta had a long history of conflict, and it was time for it to end. Second, in Sparta, he knew his son would learn the arts of war a King needed to understand. Sighing, he knew life in Sparta would not be easy for his son, and he missed the boy more than words could ever begin to express, but...Kings and Princes had to make difficult decisions and live with them...it was never too early to learn that lesson. But...this was one of the times when he wondered if Jason had done him any favours in offering him this throne. Having Nico here helped him cope with the void in his life, as having Hercules and Iolaus helped, more perhaps than any of them would ever really know.

Still, he could see they were growing restless. None of them were used to being settled in one place for too long. It was time to give them a reason to get beyond the Palace walls, beyond the limits of the City...and, he had just the errand to send them on.

Iolaus, Hercules and Nico had been ambling around the market, seeking out the perfect gift. It was Iph's birthday, and they wanted something special...but, what did you give a King who had everything? Iph had been beyond generous in his welcome, and in getting them established comfortably in their quarters in the Palace...this was a chance to show their appreciation. At one stall, Herc stopped to finger a rich material dyed a deep vermillion. 'Maybe a new cloak,' he thought, then shrugged, moving away. Iphicles had more than enough cloaks, for every season, for every occasion. Iolaus had lingered over a selection of knives, testing their balance, "A new knife?' he wondered, before grimacing. Iphicles had a personal armourer in the Palace, who produced every conceivable weapon or personal implement the King could possibly desire. 'This is impossible,' he thought with exasperation, 'Iph already has everything!'

Nico's attention had been caught by the work in a wood carver's stall. There was one piece, a relief of a view from the mountains, a stag in the forefront overlooking the valley, and the outline of Corinth below, with the bay in the far distance. It wasn't very large, oval, only about a foot wide, less than that high, but the detail was beautiful, the wood burnished, glowing with an inner warmth.

Herc spotted his son, noticed his abstraction, and wandered over to join him. When he felt his father's hand on his shoulder, Nico looked up with a smile, then cocked an eyebrow at the piece he had been studying. "What do you think?" he asked, studying the scene, his smile broadening in memory. Herc's eyes found the piece of art work which had captured Nico's attention, tilted his head to one side, nodded once, and grinning, he turned to look for his partner. Spotting him a few stalls away, he called, "Hey, Iolaus, come over here...I think we've found it!"

Iolaus looked up, then ambled over. Neither of them had noticed that Herc's call had attracted another's attention. Standing in the shadow of a stall further along the row, the Roman Tribune looked up when he heard the voice...the name. His eyes darkened as he spotted the blond warrior approach his taller friend, took note of the boy with them. 'Iolaus,' he thought, his lip curling. This was the man responsible for the one blot on his career...the ignominious withdrawal from the square the day his cohort had been surrounded by the Greeks. This peasant Greek traitor was the one responsible for the disabling injuries of hundreds of good Roman legionaires. The tall man, his friend Hercules, had been just as responsible for Rome's embarrassment...along with his much despised brother, the King of Corinth. The Tribune had been ordered by the Roman Governor to abide by the amnesty agreement, to not seek revenge upon the traitor who had led the resistance effort by the Greek peasants....at least, not until the negotiations were concluded. He focused on the boy with them...everyone had heard how Hercules had shown up with a son he had not known existed. This must be the kid, Nico. The negotiations had been concluded two days ago...maybe... maybe now he could redeem himself. Maybe the time for revenge was at hand.

Unconscious of the malevolent presence behind him, Iolaus approached the wood carver's stall, wondering what had attracted his friends' attention. Hercules moved back a bit, so that Iolaus could get closer to the object he and Nico had been studying, pointing it out for Iolaus' consideration. Iolaus knew immediately what had attracted them about this particular carving. "It's perfect," he grinned, looking first down at Nico and then up at Hercules. "Iph will love this!"

The woodcarver had watched the three of them, and, knowing who they were, was proud his work had attracted their attention. Now, hearing Iolaus' words, he fairly swelled with satisfaction...the King. They would give his work to the King! If it pleased him, perhaps the artist would get a royal commission... dinars danced before his eyes. When they asked his price for the carving, he quoted a more than reasonable amount. The carving was obviously worth far more than he charged them...he considered it an investment...with luck, this carving would more than pay for itself in the weeks and months to come. When he saw their amazement at the price he set, he smiled broadly, "Just, if it pleases you, tell the King my name...Tamius."

"You can count on it, Tamius!" assured Hercules, understanding the artist's hopes. He and Iolaus pooled their resources, exchanging their coins for the prize the artist had wrapped in a square of linen, tied with twine. Tucking it under his arm, Hercules congratulated Nico on the find, and they made their way out of the market, back to the Palace.

As they ambled back, Nico thought about how much he wished Iphicles' son could have been with them, especially for the birthday celebration tonight. He was curious about young Iolaus, who was only a little older than he was...he'd never had a cousin before. However, it would be months before Iolaus got leave to come home from Sparta. But, he also wished it for Iphicles' sake. Nico could sense how much his uncle missed his son...it was in his eyes sometimes, when he looked at Nico. Personally, Nico thought some of the things royalty did were a little crazy...having been alone for so long, Nico couldn't imagine willingly leaving someone you love, willingly sending them away, no matter what the reason. 'Well,' the boy thought, looking up at Hercules, 'I guess someday I'll find out what it's like...eventually Dad and Iolaus will have to go away without me...even if it's just for a while...to help someone who needs it.' Forcing that thought away, no point in anticipating the sadness he would feel, not when his Dad and Iolaus were here with him, Nico focused instead on the fun they'd have that night, when Iphicles saw what they had gotten for him.

That evening, they held a quiet family celebration at dinner. Iphicles sat back, replete with having enjoyed all of his favourite dishes...fried squid, tadziki with crusty, multigrained bread, a peasant's salad of greens mixed with tomatoes, onions, goat cheese and olives, drenched in olive oil, lamb roasted with rosemary, and a hearty serving of rich baklava, drenched in honey. All washed down with a rich, warm red wine from Nemea. He sighed in contented satisfaction as he took in the remains of the meal before them on the table...not much left. The others had also dug in with gusto.

"Uncle Iphicles," Nico said, with a bright look of anticipation in his eyes, "we got you something." Reaching behind him, Nico pulled the linen wrapped object he had secreted behind him in the chair into his hands, then got up to take it to the King. Over the past two months, Nico had overcome all the inhibitions he had first felt in Iphicles' presence. His uncle's warmth and approval, his generosity, his unfailing interest and good humour had completely won him over. Oh, there were times when Iphicles still seemed a bit remote, when he thought he was alone, or when he was dealing with royal business, but Nico had come to appreciate this was a role the King played, had to play...and that he was burdened with many overwhelming responsibilities. Nico understood the need to play a role...and he knew the austere behaviour hid a generous and kind man.

Iphicles smiled slowly as he watched the boy approach. A gift? He'd expected nothing...was grateful for the thoughtfulness. "Happy Birthday!" he heard Nico say as he took the package from his nephew's hands, looked up with a brow raised in enquiry at Iolaus and his brother, both of whom were grinning, clearly eager for his reaction. He felt the heft of the parcel, felt through the wrapping, drawing out the anticipation. "Open it!" commanded Nico, unable to wait longer to see if his uncle liked what they had chosen. Iph threw the boy a grin, as he carefully untied the twine and unrolled the linen covering.

The flickering candlelight danced upon the image carved into the burnished wood. Iphicles just stared at it for a long moment, found his eyes were blurring with tears. He had to swallow past the lump which had formed in his throat. Blinking he looked up at them all, a look of pleased wonder on his face. "Thank you," he murmured, as his eyes again settled on the carving in his hands. "It...it will always remind me of that day."

Gazing at the carving, his mind roamed back to that perfect day two weeks before. He had finally been able to safeguard a whole day, so that they could escape the walls of the City to roam the wild mountain trails, hunting in the forests, swimming in a high lake, ambling with no direction, no responsibilities. They had not been King and heroes then, they had been family...the first full day they had had to simply enjoy being together since Hercules, Iolaus and Nico had arrived in the Palace. Late in the afternoon, heading back to Corinth, they had paused to look down upon a lone stag on the trail's edge below them, beneath which sprawled the city until it reached the shore of the bay. Had someone deliberately captured that moment, carved that scene, they could not have rendered it more perfectly. This carving in his hands represented family togetherness...and love. He looked back at each of them again, "It's..." he sought the word to describe what this meant to him...gave up, sighed softly, "wonderful...I can't imagine a more perfect gift....Thank you."

They grinned with delight, tickled they had pleased him so well. Iolaus took up his goblet, "A toast," he cried with a laugh, "to family!" The others laughed in return, toasting one another. When he set his goblet down, Iphicles leaned forward, now with a glint of mischievious satisfaction in his own eyes. "And now," he said, leaning forward, his elbows on the table, "I have a surprise for you....that is, if you want it."

Grinning, he could see he had captured their attention. "As you know, the negotiations have finally been concluded and the copies of the treaties drawn up for consideration by our allies. I need couriers to take these copies to each of the other leaders in Greece...I wondered if the three of you would consent to take Niobe's copy to her?"

"Alright!" crowed Nico. He didn't know Queen Niobe...but he'd studied enough of Greece's geography and political structure to know she ruled Attica...a place he'd not yet been. It wasn't too far away...but far enough to get away from the city for a few days, to camp out with his Dad and Iolaus. This was great!

Hercules grinned as he heard his son's delight, and took in the slower, but equally appreciative reaction on Iolaus' face as it lit with a soft inner glow. Niobe...and little Orestes. It had been too long since he'd last seen them...oh, they'd been back several times since they'd brought Anna, the Spirit Healer, to Attica. Orestes was seven now...but, it had been more than eight months since their last visit. Iolaus looked across at Hercules...so much had happened since then...the Twilight of the Gods, the resurrection of Zeus, the resistance against Rome, Herc's amnesia...Nico...so much had changed. Like Nico, he would have been happy with any destination which took them from the confines of the palace walls for a few days, but this was a special gift. He smiled at Iphicles, nodding, "Couriers are us!" he assured the King, "At your service, Your Majesty!"

Iph laughed as he rolled his eyes at Iolaus' humorous assent. "Good!" he responded, "I thought the journey would appeal to all of you." He settled back to listen as they planned the details of their journey...he loved having them around, but he also felt especially good when he could make them happy. And, they'd be back. Attica wasn't far.

The Governor studied the Tribune as he mulled over the man's suggestion. He could understand the desire for revenge...he felt it. His failure to predict the obstinacy of the Greeks, and their capacity for collective action, had ensured he would be trapped in this backwater for a very long time. Rome was not happy with him. Not happy at all.

'But,' he thought, 'perhaps I can gain more than simple revenge...perhaps I can gain Rome a position of leverage over this peasant King.'

Leaning forward confidentially, he waved the Tribune to a seat close beside him. It was late and few were still up and about around his official residence...but, one could never underestimate the potential for unseen spies to be eavesdropping on private conversations. The candles on his desk, and on the sconces on the wall, flickered, causing shadows to dance in the corners of the grandiose room. Romans employed every possible trapping of power, including ensuring their surroundings were massive, imposing...intimidating to those who entered here.

"I sympathize with your desires for revenge, Andros...but, I must ask you to keep them leashed. Someday, the traitor will provide an opportunity for us to enact justice...however, this is not yet the time. Nonetheless, I believe we may turn recent events to Rome's advantage. I want you to keep a squad of men with you at all times, watch them...follow them...but, take care they do not note your presence. Sooner or later, they will let down their guard over the boy...when that happens, I want you and your men to take him....Take him to Rome. He'll be our hostage...a guarantor of Iphicles' cooperation in bringing his allies back into line."

Andros leaned back in his chair for a moment, considering the Governor's instructions. It was a tried and true strategy...so common as to be almost unremarkable, certainly no subject state would declare war over the Empire's right to acquire a scion of a royal house, to raise as a full Roman citizen. It could even be construed as giving the child special favour...positioning him for future advantage within the Empire. But, Iphicles would be in their power. It was a good idea...and revenge could wait. The proper time would come.

The Tribune stood, brought his right arm to his left shoulder in the salute of Rome. No further words were needed. The Governor nodded and the Tribune strode from the room. Neither yet knew the Fates had conspired to not only bring their plan to fruition...but to improve it, as well.

Eager to be on their way, the three travellers left early the next morning, before the summer's oppressive heat could claim possession of the city. Packs laden with tasty morsels from the royal kitchens slung over their shoulders, they strode away from the city walls, heading north over the isthmus towards Attica, which lay between Thebes and Athens, north of both, on the shores of the straight between the mainland and Eyboia Island. It would take almost two full days to reach Niobe's palace. Lighthearted, carefree, unaware of the Romans who stalked their trail, the three of them revelled in their escape from the confines of palace life...Nico was especially glad to be free of the classroom. Making camp the first night, they hunted for their dinner, trapping quail and pheasant. Herc was particularly grateful the rabbits had successfully eluded the wily hunters for once. Settling around the glowing embers of their fire, each took quiet refuge in their own thoughts before drifting off to sleep.

Nico was thoroughly enjoying being out on the road again with his father and Iolaus. True to form, Iolaus had regaled them all day with jokes and stories, whistling off key when he temporarily ran out of things to babble on about. Nico had grown used to their easy banter, had fallen into it, teasing both, being teased in return. He couldn't imagine being happier. On the journey, he had learned Niobe had a son, Orestes...he wished the kid was a little older, but one of his brothers would have been the same age, had he lived. Nico shied away from this thought. He never talked about his brothers...he missed them too much...and, there was no one left in his life who even remembered them, except him....no one who remembered what they had looked like, or how cute they'd been, even when they were driving him crazy, following him around, wanting to do everything he did. Sighing, Nico thought, it might be fun hanging around with Iolaus' young cousin, for a few days at least...not the same as with his brothers...but, as close as he was ever going to get. Knowing the kid was Iolaus' cousin, sensing his 'uncle's' love for the child, he was determined to make friends with the little boy...he just hoped he wouldn't be saddled with having to take care of the kid all of the time...adults were always expecting bigger kids to look after the littler ones...that was something he remembered very well from his long ago life at home!

Hercules could sense Iolaus' excitement build as they got closer to Attica. After that difficult discussion in Niobe's palace years ago, neither had ever again spoken about the child's parentage. But, Herc knew how much the boy meant to Iolaus, knew how hard it was for his friend to go months without contact. Sighing, he wished, just once, something in Iolaus' life could be easy. Iolaus never complained, never even let on how hard this must be for him, not being able to be closer to the child...but, Herc wasn't fooled. He was an old hand at knowing how well Iolaus could bury whatever hurt, whatever tore at his soul, pretending all was well with the world. Herc was glad Iph had sent them on this errand, however innocently, only knowing Niobe and Orestes were family, not realizing how important each visit to Attica was to his friend.

His hands cradling the back of his head, Iolaus stared up at the stars, a soft smile on his lips. Tomorrow... tomorrow they'd be in Attica. His mind's eye played over the last visit there, lingering on his memories of bright, mischievious blue eyes, highpitched childish laughter, the sight of a small, sturdy figure dashing around the palace, oblivious to the havoc he caused...memories of the warmth of the child in his arms. Blinking hard, he brushed the back of a hand over his eyes, then turned on his side away from the fire, forcing himself to relax...forcing himself to set aside his eager anticipation of the morrow, forcing himself to let sleep come.

A mile away, thirty-one Romans curled into their cloaks, warriors accustomed to camping 'cold', without the heat of a fire to cook their evening meal. They were hunting...and they wanted their quarry to remain oblivious to their presence.

Late the next afternoon, the travellers were striding along the river's shore, toward the Palace now not far ahead, when their attention was caught by a surprised, gleeful shout. "IOLAUS!" a high pitched voice crowed in delight. They turned in the direction of the sound, saw a golden haired boy burst from the shadows of the trees on the far side of the meadow. The child raced through the high grass, which rippled like a yellow sea in the light breeze, pushing his way through the thick growth which almost hid him from view. "IOLAUS!" he called again, almost breathless with excitement at this unexpected visit by his most favourite person, next to his mother, in the whole world.

Iolaus had turned at the first call, a dazzling smile lighting his face, as he dropped his pack and raced to meet the boy, pulling him up into his arms, swinging him around before hugging him tightly. Looking back the way the child had come, he set the lad back down to wave at his friend, Linus, who had emerged from the trees and was following the boy across the meadow, with almost the same degree of eagerness. Iolaus was also one of Linus' most favourite people in the world...Iolaus was his hero. When Linus reached them, Iolaus first exchanged the warrior's grip of welcome, then put one arm around Linus' shoulders, while his other held his little 'cousin' close to his side as they walked to the river's edge, to join Hercules and Nico.

"Hercules!" Linus greeted Iolaus' friend warmly, "welcome to Attica...and who's this?" he asked, as he turned toward Nico.

"Nico," Iolaus intervened before Herc could answer, "I'd like you to meet my cousin, Orestes, and my friend, Linus. Linus, Orestes, this is Nico...Herc's son." Iolaus giggled at the amazement he saw flood Linus' face...the reaction was all he could have hoped for! Gods, it was fun introducing this kid! Nico nodded with courtesy at Linus, deciding to let the grownups deal with the man's surprise, before turning his attention to Orestes. Walking over to greet the younger boy, Nico stuck his arm out, offering the warrior's shake. An appreciative grin in his eyes, and on his lips, Orestes accepted the gesture and, arms clasped, he mimicked Linus in his best grown up voice, "Welcome to Attica, Nico," then ruined the mature effect by turning eagerly to Hercules, "You never told me you had a son!"

Herc smiled down at the boys... "I didn't know I had one," he replied, seriously.

"Didn't know?" Orestes echoed, looking from Hercules to Nico...then up at his cousin, Iolaus, confusion in his eyes. Iolaus smiled down at him, as he ruffled the mane of curls, "We'll explain on the way home, Orestes...come on, let's go surprise your Mother!"

Together, they turned to complete the journey to the palace. Some distance away, the Romans watched the reunion from the cover of trees along the bend of the river. A smile played on the Tribune's lips. So, they had been headed to Attica...by noon, he had been almost certain this was their destination. He watched the group ahead move away. Better and better...one a King's nephew...and the other a Queen's son, a Crown Prince. Waving his arm at his men, he led them deep into the cover of the forest.

Nico walked quietly beside his father, listening and watching as Iolaus regaled Orestes and Linus with the story of his discovery, warmed by the obvious affection in Iolaus' voice. At first, he just studied Orestes. The kid didn't look anything like his own brothers...so much for his earlier thoughts about how this kid might somehow remind him of them. But, then, Nico had never looked like his brothers either...they had been dark, with black hair and eyes. Whereas, Nico grinned a little, he and Orestes did look something alike. He'd liked what he'd seen so far of this kid...he was full of energy, and obviously, the kid was crazy about Iolaus.

But...as Nico continued to watch, he realized there was something funny about the way the men were acting...something so completely unexpected Nico initially wondered if he was imagining things. He had spent the past almost three months watching and listening to his father and to Iolaus...studying them, getting to know their every gesture, every expression, every tone of voice. They were the most important people in his world...a world which had changed so radically that his perceptions were preternaturally astute, drawing upon abilities to observe and draw conclusions which he had honed for survival purposes on the village streets he had haunted for years. Glancing up at his father, he saw the look Hercules was bestowing on Iolaus...a quiet, but almost heartstopping happiness for his friend clear in his father's eyes. Nico turned his gaze back to Iolaus, saw him looking at Orestes with an expression Nico recognised...the expression of a father gazing with boundless love at his son. Nico shook his head, wondering if he was being fanciful...but, the more he listened and watched, the more he was sure he was right. What was going on? Turning to Linus, watching him watch Iolaus, he was pretty sure Linus also knew. But, the kid didn't have a clue. Why didn't he know? Why was it a secret?

It didn't take long to reach the Palace. Entering through the gates into it's rear garden, on the far side of the gates which led into the city, they were greeted almost immediately by Hector...and the introductions began again. Nico was getting used to the surprise his presence caused...and was glad the surprise most often seemed a happy one to the people they had met over the last few months. Hector was a grizzled warrior, tall, lean, with a face which seemed more used to solemn anxiety than the wreath of smiles which graced it now. Again, Nico watched closely, noted the quick flash of quiet satisfaction and joy when Hector looked from Iolaus down to the Prince and back again. He knew, too.

And, then, the Queen was there, with open arms. Nico caught the brilliant light of love in her eyes when she beheld Iolaus, a light quickly calmed to a look of radiant welcome. What was going on here? A slight frown of concentration flitted across his face, until he was distracted by the need to focus on his introduction to the Queen. Gazing up at her, he thought her beautiful. Nodding respectfully at her, he pretended a certain shyness, to pull back closer to his father, so that he could watch what was going on. Looking from the Crown Prince, to Niobe and then to Iolaus, he wondered why, if they loved each other, why didn't they live together? Looking up at his father, he determined to find out...later, when they were alone.

The Queen had linked arms with Iolaus, drawing them all into the Palace interior. Orestes clung to his cousin's hand, bouncing and talking a mile a minute in his determination to hold his cousin's attention. The adults laughed at his antics, but humoured him, letting him bring his cousin up to date on all the latest events of his life. Finally, they reached the solar, where Niobe directed that refreshments be brought to them.

As they settled in chairs around a bright fire, Niobe took charge of her overexcited son. "Orestes," she broke into his breathless babbling, "you don't have to tell Iolaus everything all at once, my love! Remember your manners...you have a guest to make comfortable. Why don't you show Nico around the Palace, make him feel at home?" Orestes, not quite happy at being given a clear instruction to withdraw from their presence, but intrigued by the idea of making a new friend, one that was the son of Hercules, he remembered his manners with a comical solemnity. "Of course, Mother...Nico...I'm sorry...would you like to see more of the Palace?"

Nico wasn't any happier than Orestes at being given the heave ho, however nicely it had been phrased. Still, he hid his sigh of resigned irritation, he was a 'kid' after all, and the adults would want to talk amongst themselves...and, he did want to get to know Iolaus' 'cousin' better. "Sure," he summoned a grin for the child, "if it's okay...."

"Sure it's okay," affirmed Orestes with all of the hauteur of the Prince of the Palace, then a grin lit his face. "Let's go!" Fairly hopping with eagerness to play with his new friend, Orestes led Nico from the room.

While the adults caught up with the events of their lives since they had last met, and finally turned to the business of the documents Hercules and Iolaus had brought for Niobe's review and approval, the boys wandered through what seemed to Nico to be endless corridors, room after room of amazing treasures, until they again found themselves in the garden.

Orestes was full of questions about Nico...how did he and Hercules find each other...and then, what had it been like living on the streets, homeless? Orestes couldn't imagine it...in his mind, from his perspective of never having known isolation or want, it seemed an incredible adventure, rather than a weary, terrible struggle for survival. Kind, Nico hid the dark parts, choosing to amuse the boy with tales of daring do, wild escapades and his version of having met Hercules. Finally having satisfied Orestes' immediate curiousity, Nico began to satisfy his own, with questions about Orestes' life, most particularly about his relationship with his 'cousin' Iolaus. Nico heard the child's version of how he had met Iolaus, when he and Herc had brought Anna to live with them...Orrie was babbling along about how Anna had gone away a few days ago to a nearby village, to help some children who had been taken ill there. "Anna," Nico interrupted, "who's Anna?" And, then he heard the truth about the myth of the Spirit Healer. Leaning against a tree, his eyes unconsciously directed back toward the solar in the centre of the Palace, he wondered if he would ever know all their stories. Shaking his head in wonder, he turned back to Orrie, unconsciously renaming the child in his mind... 'Orestes' was far too formal a name for the imp.

"You really like Iolaus, don't you?" he asked.

"Yeah," sighed the smaller boy, gazing out across the river. "He's..." Orestes paused, he'd never admitted this to anyone before. Looking back at Nico, he decided to finally confide his feelings to Nico...if anyone understood, Orestes figured Nico might. Continuing softly, Orestes continued, "I wish he was my Dad...." The small voice trailed off.

Nico's eyebrows went up...he hadn't expected this response. "Why?" he asked, curious.

Orrie shrugged, embarrassed. "I don't have a Dad," he began, "and, well, Iolaus makes me feel safe." Nico thought this was an odd comment from someone who spent his life sheltered in a Palace. Orestes saw the look, wondered how he could explain his feelings. "I know...it sounds dumb. But, the others...well, they all take care of me, look out for me...but...they have to...I'm the Prince. And, I have to remember I'm the Prince." His face twisted in childish distaste for the responsibility for behaviour which tested him to the limit..often. "With Iolaus, I can just be me...I don't have to always be 'good'...not that I'm bad! It's just that, well, with Iolaus, I can just...play....and, well, I can tell...he really loves me...and I love him, more than anyone, except my Mom." The emphasis the lad placed unconsciously on his words of assurance of Iolaus' affection belied a deep uncertainty that, maybe, Iolaus didn't really care about him as much as he hoped, wanted, him to...after all, Iolaus left for months at a time, and Orestes never knew when, or even if, Iolaus would return.

The child had been staring at the ground, overcome with embarrassment at his unaccustomed admission of his feelings. Nico studied him quietly for a moment. Poor kid. He'd never thought about what it must be like to suffer that kind of loneliness...being surrounded by people who took care of you, but not really knowing if they cared about you. Nico felt the weight of his extra years...this was an odd conversation to be having...but, fresh from having discovered the unexpected, miraculous reality of a father who returned his own love, Nico could sense how vulnerable this child was, how much he needed the reassurance that Iolaus reciprocated his affection. Finally, he reached out a solemn, reassuring hand, resting it firmly on the lad's shoulder, drawing the shy, shadowed eyes back to his own. "Yeah, you're right...I can tell he loves you...he was really excited about coming here, to see you again...I could tell he really misses you."

A smile blazed across the tyke's face. "Really?" he breathed, delighted. "Really," confirmed Nico, "no doubt about it...he loves you as much as you love him!"

The little boy swallowed, almost overcome, he blinked rapidly as he looked away, until the Prince was once again in firm control. Casting about for something to change the subject, he grinned at the older boy. "You hungry?" he asked, his eyes dancing.

"You bet!"

Orestes fairly bounced to his feet. "C'mon, I'll show you the kitchen...it's huge!"

Nico returned the grin as he rose to his feet and followed the boy back into the Palace.

Nico was beginning to think he'd never get his father to himself, when finally, after a massive dinner, they had wound their way through the endless corridors to their chamber. Even then, they weren't alone until Iolaus had entered his own room, next door to their's.

Hercules could tell his son was preoccupied, wondered what was going on under those rebellious curls.

"Okay, out with it...what's on your mind," he asked his son.

Nico looked up, startled. He kept forgetting his Dad was just about as good as reading him as he was at reading his Dad. Now that the time had come to pose his questions, he wasn't quite sure how to start. Climbing up on the bed, vaguely noticing it was bigger than any he had yet seen, even bigger than the one Iphicles had had especially made for his father, his face assumed a thoughtful look, a slight frown between his brows.

Hercules stood, with his arms crossed, watching the boy. Must be serious...Nico didn't usually take this long to let him know what was bothering him...any and all remaining walls between them had crashed after Nico had been mauled by the panther in Artemis' Sacred Grove. One eyebrow cocked in unspoken question and attention, he waited for his son to speak.

Finally, Nico sighed...he couldn't think of a subtle way to ask his question. Looking up at his father, he asked, "How come Orrie doesn't know Iolaus is his father?"

If his son had just grown two horns and a tail, Hercules could not have been more flabbergasted...or dismayed. He stared at his son, shocked by the question...and wondered how in Tarturus he was going to answer it. Herc might not always tell Nico everything...but, he'd be damned if he would ever lie to the boy. But, this was Iolaus' story...Iolaus' secret. How had Nico figured it out?

Clearing his throat, Herc decided to counter with a question of his own. "What makes you think.... Orrie?...is Iolaus' son? And," hoping to maybe change the subject, "when did you decide to call him 'Orrie'?"

Nico rolled his eyes, wise to his Dad's pathetic attempt to change the subject. "'Orestes' is too, I don't know, stuffy a name...it's a Prince's name...Orrie just wants to be a kid sometimes....and you haven't answered my question."

"You haven't answered mine, either," Hercules countered.

Nico looked at his Dad...so, it was a secret...something no one was supposed to know...otherwise, his father would have just explained and they would have gone to bed.

"It's pretty obvious," Nico finally responded. When he saw Herc's concerned look of confusion, wondering 'what' exactly was obvious, Nico continued, turning a slight shade of pink. "He looks at Orrie, just like you look at me."

Herc let out a breath, maybe he could get out of this after all. "Well, Iolaus loves Orestes...Orrie."

"Uh huh," responded Nico, his voice unconsciously echoing the tough guy, 'tell me another one' tone of his street days. "Don't give me that...I know it's supposed to be a secret...only you, and those guys, Hector and Linus, seem to know...if you don't want to explain it to me...fine...but, don't treat me like an idiot...."

Hercules head pulled back. He felt, in an odd way, as if he had just been slapped. Sighing, he let his arms drop to his sides, unconsciously stretching as his gaze swept the room, searching for inspiration. He couldn't evade...and he wouldn't lie.

Finally, he looked back at his son, moved to sit beside him, put his arm around the boy's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Nico," he said quietly, "I forget, sometimes, that you see things others never seem to notice...and you caught me by surprise."

Nico just looked up at him, waiting. He wasn't going to let his father off the hook that easily. "So? What's the story?" he persisted.

Hercules gently squeezed his son's shoulders. "You're right...Iolaus is his father...but," he looked seriously into his son's eyes, "no one can ever know."

"Why?"

Herc pushed a hand through his hair. "Nico...Iolaus is afraid...afraid, if people knew, it would shame Niobe...and, well, it could ruin Orestes' life. He's the Crown Prince...and, his life could even be in danger if the truth were known."

Nico frowned, trying to understand. Okay, he was wise enough in the ways of the world to know a Queen wasn't supposed to....he blushed again. "But...Iolaus never lies, Dad...how can he let people believe his son is a prince, if he's not?"

"Orestes is a prince...his mother is the Queen...and, Iolaus didn't even know the boy existed until Orestes was four years old...by then, everyone believed he was the Crown Prince....Nico...it's a long, complicated story, but Iolaus and King Orestes were practically identical...no one could tell them apart....twice, Iolaus had to masquerade as his cousin...the first time, he had to pretend to be Orestes at the coronation, which included the royal marriage to Niobe...she didn't know then that he wasn't Orestes...they only met at the wedding."

Nico rolled his eyes at this...royalty...they sure did dumb things...imagine marrying someone you didn't even know. Herc couldn't resist a slight grin, understanding his son's unspoken comment.

"Anyway," Hercules continued, "they fell in love...and then Niobe found out the truth...and they had to set their feelings aside...she was married to the King...they both had to live with that. About a year later, Iolaus again had to pretend to be his cousin...Orestes had been killed...murdered....trying to bring about peace in this part of Greece. Iolaus pretended to be him, so that his cousin's dream, and Niobe's, could be realized, achieved. When he was sure other Kings in the area would support Niobe, Iolaus fought the man who had had Orestes killed...and he and Hector faked Iolaus' death...so everyone thinks that's when Orestes died, bravely, defending his dream. Iolaus had to...leave. It was years, almost five years, before he saw Niobe again. By then, well, it wasn't up to him to reveal his relationship to little Orestes...it wasn't his secret to tell...and, Nico, you know enough about Iolaus and me...about the enemies we've made over the years...if people knew the child was his...well, they could try to get their revenge by hurting Orrie."

Nico had stared at his father throughout the recital. Now, he looked away, a saddened look on his face. "Poor Iolaus," he murmured, then looked back. "But, if he and Niobe love each other, why didn't they just get married...then, it would be okay for him to act like Orrie's father."

Hercules scratched his neck. How to explain the complexities of adult emotions and choices to a child...albeit a wise child... 'Just keep it simple,' he thought, responding aloud, "People change, their feelings change...five years had gone by...and, to be honest, Iolaus never wanted to be a King...if he had, he could have kept pretending to be Orestes....but, he was too honest...and, he had his own life to live. He didn't know, then, that it would mean he could never acknowledge a son he never thought he'd have."

Nico nodded. He felt really bad for Iolaus...and for Orrie. "Will Iolaus ever tell him?" he asked. "Orrie really loves him...I think he'd be glad to know...someday...."

Herc sighed. "I don't know, Nico...that's Iolaus' decision to make. But, do you understand now, why it's a secret? Why you can't ever let anyone know the truth?"

"Yeah," the boy nodded unhappily, "I understand...it's just...really sad."

Hercules hugged his son, "Yes," he murmured against his son's hair, "yes, it is...really sad."

Hercules wanted to tell Iolaus...his friend needed to know Nico had figured out his secret. But, for the next two days, it seemed as if they were constantly surrounded by other people. If it wasn't Niobe, and her advisers, as they mulled over the details of the draft treaties, or Hector and Linus, wanting to catch up on old times, it was the two boys, while they fished by the river, or just played, wrestling, telling stories...just being together. Hercules watched Nico watch Iolaus and Orrie...it wasn't long before everyone had picked up the new nickname...and saw the shadowed look in his son's eyes, a look quickly veiled. Herc was proud of his son, proud of his compassion...proud of his discretion. Hercules, Hector, Linus...and now Nico, watched Iolaus and Orrie with mingled feelings...happiness for their evident enjoyment in one another...sorrow, that Orrie didn't know, and Iolaus couldn't tell him.

Finally, on the third day, just after the noon meal, Linus took the boys hunting in the forests of the palace estate. As Hercules and Iolaus watched the boys caper off across the meadow ahead of the warrior, excited to be on another adventure, Herc turned to Iolaus, hesitated a moment, then straightened his shoulders. This needed to be said.

"Iolaus," he said quietly, "Nico has figured it out."

Iolaus was still gazing after the boys. "Figured what out?" he asked absently, only half paying attention.

Herc remained quiet until the silence got through to Iolaus and his friend turned to face him. "Figured out what, Hercules?"

"Orrie...you...."

Iolaus visibly paled. "What?" he whispered.

Herc nodded, put a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder. "Iolaus...Nico watches both of us like a hawk...he could see the way you look at Orestes....he picked up on the way I was acting...and Hector and Linus...it didn't take him long to realize something was going on....I'm sorry....but, he knows...he understands...that no one else can ever know."

"By the gods," Iolaus sighed, as he shut his eyes, turning his head away. "Is it so obvious?" If it was, he couldn't keep coming here...it put Orrie at too great a risk. Pressing his lips together, he held back the empty desolation which washed over him at the thought of never seeing the child again.

"No!" Hercules hastened to reassure him, "it's not obvious...not at all...it's just that Nico is tuned into us, more than anyone else would ever be....Iolaus, please believe me...your secret is safe."

Iolaus bit his lip, nodding slowly as he turned back to face Hercules, a haunted look in his eyes. "I don't think I could stand...never being able to ever see him, be with him...."

Herc slid his arm across Iolaus' shoulders, giving his friend a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "I know, Iolaus...but, it's okay...really...it's okay."

Iolaus swallowed, rubbed a hand across his face, nodded. Gradually, the tension left his body. Gods, it was so hard, having always to pretend, always to be afraid someone would find out. He sighed heavily, then pulled away from Hercules to again look after the boys and Linus, catching sight of them just before they entered the forest, far across the meadow. They turned and waved back at him and Hercules. His heart full, Iolaus smiled...and waved back.

They had spent the rest of the afternoon finishing off the discussions with Niobe and her councillors. Finally, it seemed, the last questions had been answered, the last doubts cleared away. She would sign her copies of the treaties...keeping one for her records, returning the other for Hercules to take back to Iphicles for presentation to the Romans.

Grateful to have this task done, the friends stood and stretched, ambling back to the garden, surprised to see it was almost dusk. Puzzled at first, that they hadn't heard the hunting party return...Orrie was not shy to make his presence known!...they carried out a cursory search of the Palace for the boys. Gradually, puzzlement turned to concern. They weren't in the Palace...they hadn't returned.

Heading back outside, not yet wanting to alarm Niobe, they started across the meadow, intent upon finding the boys and Linus...intent upon giving them a proper dressing down for having lingered out so late...neither of them particularly alarmed, annoyance a preferred alternative to worry. They had almost reached the edge of the forest when Linus staggered out, falling to his knees, his hand on a bloody wound on the back of his head.

"Linus!" The concern was clear in Iolaus' voice as he knelt beside his injured friend. "What happened?"

Hercules was staring at the forest behind Linus. "Where are the boys?" he asked, his voice tight.

"I'm sorry...there were too many...I couldn't stop them...."

Iolaus gripped Linus' shoulder, looking up at Hercules with alarm, as Hercules whirled to look down at the man, his body stiff with tension.

"Stop who, Linus?" Iolaus grated, as he turned his gaze back to Linus.

"Romans...." Linus responded, his shame and fear for the boys heavy in his voice.

"Romans?" Hercules repeated, "What Romans? What happened?"

Linus sighed as he gathered his thoughts. Sitting back on his heels, he looked up at Hercules, but the thunderous look he saw there was not something he wanted to face. Looking back at Iolaus, his heart sank at the fear he saw in his hero's eyes...at what he had to tell him.

"Roman legionnaires...musta been thirty of them. They surrounded us...took us by surprise. I would have fought them...but, one had grabbed Orrie...had a knife at his throat. The Tribune laughed at me...said to tell you, not to worry...he'd make good Roman citizens out of them....and...and then someone behind me hit me over the head...when I woke up, they were gone....I'm sorry," he whispered, devastated by his failure to protect his young charges.

"How long ago?" rasped Hercules, barely able to keep his fury, and his fear, in check.

"Hours ago....we'd hardly entered the forest when they came upon us....."

Hours ago. Iolaus and Hercules exchanged looks of despair, then Iolaus looked back toward the forest...the shadows were lengthening...it would soon be completely dark. He couldn't track them without light. Feeling Linus slump against his steadying arm, Iolaus' attention was pulled back to the wounded man. Getting a firmer grip on Linus to keep him from slipping onto the ground, Iolaus again looked up at Hercules. "It's too dark, Herc," he said with quiet misery, "We'd never find their trail...."

Herc had also been staring into the darkened woodland. It took a physical effort to bring his feelings back under some semblance of control. Accepting Iolaus' judgment, he nodded, turned away from the forest. Leaning down, he helped Iolaus pull Linus to his feet, helped support him as they turned back toward the Palace.

"I'm sorry...." Linus murmured again.

Iolaus shook his head...there was no value in Linus blaming himself. "It's not your fault, Linus...there was nothing you could do." He knew Linus was no coward...if there had been any chance, he would have fought to protect the boys, even at the cost of his own life. But, it was one thing to die for a good purpose...it was another to fight blindly, with no hope...that was certain suicide....A good warrior did not throw his life away...he saved it, to fight another day.

Linus heard the sincerity in Iolaus' voice, was grateful for the understanding and implicit forgiveness...but, he wasn't sure he could forgive himself...knew he never would if anything happened to those children...if they never got them back.

Together, they made their uneven way back across the fields...back to tell Niobe her son had been kidnapped.

"By the gods, no!" Niobe gasped, all colour leaving her face...Iolaus quickly reached out, putting an arm around her back, ready to catch her if she collapsed. But, Niobe was a Queen...queens don't collapse, no matter how much they might want to.

Hector had listened with grave concern as he assisted the healer cleanse and bandage Linus' wound. Turning, he stated quietly, "They won't hurt the boys...they're too valuable as hostages. Dead, they would be reason for war between Greece and the Empire...alive, they can be used to pressure you into succumbing to Roman will...Roman rule."

There was a long silence, while each thought about this...accepted the logic of it...some of their tension eased. It was a matter now of getting the boys back. For that, they had to think this through calmly, develop a plan of action.

"How will they get the boys to Rome?" Iolaus mused aloud.

Hector looked across the room at the man he admired above all others. "They will know that you would track them...if they headed across country, it would only be a matter of time until we caught them...and, the boys would be watching for a chance to escape."

"The sea," Hercules said, flatly.

Hector nodded. "We're on the coast...less than a mile from the shore. They'll be long gone."

"It's a long way from here to the Italian coast," Iolaus remarked thoughtfully, "and they'll likely head to the port which is closest, this side of Rome."

Niobe nodded. "Brindisi." It was the closest Roman port to Greece on Italy's Adriatic coast, linked by a major highway to Rome itself.

Nodding, Iolaus looked at her, the light of battle beginning to edge out the fear and despair. "We can get there first, be waiting for them."

"Through the Bay of Corinth!" Hercules continued, as he thought about what they'd need to do. "With horses, we could be at the Bay by morning." He grimaced unconsciously when he thought about having to ride a horse. Despite the horror of the situation, Iolaus couldn't resist grinning at his friend. Herc would rather walk through fire than ride a horse....but, then, the grin faded....they would both walk through fire, if that's what it took to get their sons back.

"We can commandeer a fishing vessel on the coast...and, we'll need to keep our numbers small...." Hector was thinking aloud, the strategist in him planning out their campaign.

"I'd like to send an army," Niobe interjected in a harsh, angry voice.

Hector looked over at her...he knew his Queen better than anyone...better even than Iolaus. He knew she understood it was impossible. An army would be a declaration of war. Despite their personal desire to wreak havoc, to strike hard...he knew Niobe fully understood this reaction was barred to her. Diplomatically, it would be an over reaction...would put all of Greece in peril. The two boys might mean the world to them...but, they couldn't put all of Greece at risk.

She saw his understanding, accepted it. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "but, that's impossible. Linus, you said there were thirty of them...there will be more once they get to Italy." Turning to Hector, she queried, "You said a small number...how many?"

"No more than fifteen," Hector responded, "we'd not fit more than than on a ship small and fast enough to get there well ahead of them, in any case."

"Fifteen is plenty!" Iolaus interjected, looking at Herc, reading his mind. Two of them would be enough. No one was going to keep Nico and Orrie away from them. No one.

Linus started to stand, only to find himself pressed back down into his chair by Hector's firm hand. Looking up at his superior, he said, "I'll get the preparations under way...get the men organized, supplies gathered...horses saddled."

Hector started to shake his head, only to be interrupted by Linus' determined voice, "I'm going with you."

Looking from the stubborn young soldier to the healer, Hector raised a brow. The healer regarded Linus thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. The wound wasn't serious enough to hold Linus back.

"Alright, lad," Hector relented, "you can come...but, you'll rest until we leave. I'll not have you passing out on us halfway to the coast."

Linus relented, relaxing back into his chair. Hector turned to the Queen, with an unconscious gesture of seeking her permission to withdraw. She nodded and he left the room, to gather their force together.

Nico looked down at the boy who had unconsciously curled against him when he finally fell asleep. Looking around the dark hold of the creaking, rolling ship, he shivered in the damp, his arm drawing Orrie in tighter against his side. The place stank of long gone fish, and he could hear the occasional rustle in the dark around him...rats. He hated rats.

Resting his head back against the wooden hull of the ship, he let his mind drift over the events which had brought them here...wherever here was. They'd just run ahead of Linus, into the cool shade of the forest, when, from out of nowhere, all these Roman legionnaires had surrounded them. Shocked, they's stopped dead, just staring at the men around them. One of them used their distraction to grab Orrie, pulling out an ugly knife and holding it to his friend's throat. Nico still felt sick when he thought about it. Orrie's eyes had gotten as big as saucers, but he just stood there, didn't cry or anything, waiting to see what they had to say. Then, Linus had wandered into the shadows...and they'd hit him over the head. Linus had fallen like a stone... 'Gods, I hope he's alright," Nico thought.

Nico had been afraid to shout or struggle...he couldn't take his eyes off the knife at Orrie's throat. They were in deep trouble and he knew it...he just didn't know why, or what was going to happen next. The soldiers had grabbed their arms roughly, snarling at them to keep quiet, and had hustled them away through the forest. It hadn't taken long to reach the shore, and the next thing he'd known, they were dragged onto the ship and thrown in the hold. The soldiers had been stealthy in their actions...he figured they were stealing the vessel. One legionnaire had followed them into the hold, carrying shackles which he quite clearly planned to use to chain the boys.

Nico mouth twisted in a cynical grin at the memory. The stupid jerk first tried to put the shackles on their arms...but, they just slipped off. Then, he'd tried their ankles with the same result...and the iron rings were too small to fit around their necks without choking them. Dumb idiot...who'd even try shackling kids with irons forged for men?

Then the Tribune had come down to see what was going on. Nico shook his head as he remembered how Orrie had acted. Nico knew he had a smart mouth...but, he never would have believed Orrie would act the way he had. It would have been funny...if everything hadn't been so scary. Closing his eyes, he remembered the exchange between the Roman Tribune and the little kid.

As soon as Orrie saw the Tribune climb down into the hold, he pushed past the clumsy legionnaire to stand with his feet apart and his hands on his hips, staring imperiously up at the Roman. "What is the meaning of this?" the child had demanded, every inch the Prince. "I am Prince Orestes of Attica and you will return me to my Palace immediately!" he had continued before the Roman had quite adjusted to the tirade.

"I know who you are, Prince Orestes," the Tribune had responded civilly, and turning to Nico, he continued, "and, I know you are the son of Hercules and Princess Nice, nephew to King Iphicles of Corinth, grandson to King Thestius."

"Then you know you have no right to kidnap us...you will be severely disciplined for this breach of conduct between our states." Orrie responded with all of the hauteur of someone middleaged and grand...but with no loss of dignity, for all of the fact he didn't come up to the Tribune's waist.

Nico had stared at Orrie...gods, he must have listened in on every conversation his mother had ever had....where did he get this stuff... 'breach of conduct'... where was the little kid he thought he'd gone hunting with? Deciding to get into the action, Nico snapped at the Tribune, "My Dad will tear you apart if anything happens to us."

The Tribune gave them both a cold smile as stared down scornfully from his greater height. Quietly, but with unmistakable venom in his voice, he informed them, "You have been chosen to be taken to Rome, to be reared as Roman citizens...behave, and no harm will come to you. Give me any trouble, and I'll throw you over the side of this ship." Tipping his head first at Orrie, then at Nico, "Your Highnesses, I leave you both for the night...sleep well." With that, he had followed the legionnaire out of the hold.

Orrie had just stood there for a second, starting to tremble. Nico moved to put a hand on the boy's shoulder, wondering if he was going to start crying. Orrie turned, eyes flashing with his anger, "May the demons of Tarturus eat his soul...damn him...damn them all!" The words were at odds with the high pitched, childish voice.

"It's okay, Orrie, my Dad and Iolaus will find us...and when they do, these guys don't stand a chance...then we'll see who'll be fishfood," Nico assured him.

Orrie looked up at Nico, squinting a little in the dim light. The anger the child had been nursing to hold away his terror slipped away. "They won't come," he said in a small voice.

"What? Sure they will...nothing will stop them! You'll see," Nico stated flatly.

Orrie shook his head, turning to slump down against the hull. "No...you don't understand...I guess you haven't been a prince long enough," the kid sighed, swallowing hard so that he wouldn't cry. "Romans take royal sons as hostages all the time....it's one of the reasons I've always had a guard since the Empire took over Greece." Looking up at Nico, he said, blinking at the tears gathering in his eyes, "That's what Linus is, you know...my guard."

Nico didn't understand why Orrie was so sure no one would come after them...so the Romans took hostages...that didn't mean his Dad, or Iolaus, would leave them to rot in Rome. Moving to squat down next to Orrie, one hand on the hull beside the boy's head to balance himself against the roll of the ship, Nico argued, "Orrie...there's no way my Dad, or your...cousin, Iolaus, would abandon us...."

Orrie sighed, brushing a hand across his eyes. "If they don't, it could start a war...."

"Who cares! They'd do anything...go anywhere...to get us back!" Nico felt out of balance, as if their roles had reversed and now Orrie was the older one, explaining the ways of the world to him...but, he wasn't going to believe it, not for a minute. Nothing would stop his Dad...or Orrie's dad, either.

Orrie pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, leaned his forehead upon them. Quietly, in a small, hopeless, lost voice, he simply said, "Not to Rome...it's too far....and, if they do try, they'll be killed...." Orrie sniffed, trying very hard to stifle the sob he felt rising in his chest.

Nico sat back on his heels. Killed? No. That wouldn't happen. He'd heard their stories...he'd experienced his father's magic...hadn't he brought Nico back to life? No. "There's no place that far away that they wouldn't come after us! Besides, Orrie, you don't understand..."

But, he was cut off, as Orrie raised his head, furious tearfilled eyes blazing, "NO! YOU don't understand! We're princes, Nico...we're not ordinary kids...we're empires and nations. I know they're brave," his voice cracked, "and I know they would want to save us...but you don't attack Rome for a couple of princes when Rome has chosen them for special treatment. And..." his lip trembled, as he finished quietly, his voice shaking, "I know they're heroes...but even heroes can't fight all of Rome....Nico, I don't want them to get killed because of us...."

Nico stared at Orrie, astounded. All the time he'd been cleaning out chicken coops, hunting in the forests, surviving on the streets, Orrie had been educated in what it meant to be a prince...in the ways of nations, in the realities of politics. Iphicles, had he been there, would have understood. The way of royalty is hard... and it's never too early to understand that lesson....to understand personal feelings, personal choices didn't count for anything. He might only be seven years old, but Orrie was already knowledgable, if not wise, about the meaning of power, and what it meant not to have it. He'd played his prince card for the Tribune...it wasn't good enough...he was trying to act grown up...but it was hard.

Well, Nico thought...Orrie might know something about being a prince, but he doesn't know everything. "Look, Orrie...just listen to me. First, they will come after us...you can bet on that. And second, no one is going to get killed...I know that for a fact." Orrie threw him a skeptical look....but, behind it, lurking in his eyes, was the hopeful look of a little boy who desperately wanted to be wrong. Nico decided to tell Orrie about the panther...that should convince him! "A couple of months ago, I was mauled by a panther," he started, leaving out the details about it being made of stone, about Discord and Artemis...none of that mattered to the point he was making. "I think...I think I died."

"What!" gasped Orrie.

"Yeah...it was awful...I was all torn apart...could hardly breathe and everything went black and then there was this really ugly guy on a boat muttering about how I needed to pay him to cross the river...."

"Charon...." Orrie breathed, enthralled.

"Yeah, I guess...anyway, all of a sudden, I was back...and, I wasn't hurt anymore...don't even have any scars! My Dad brought me back to life!"

Orrie narrowed his eyes, thinking about this. "I know Hercules is the strongest man in the world," he mused to himself, "but I never knew he could do that...."

"Wait," Nico said, grinning, "there's more...I don't think Dad and Iolaus want us to know about this...but, I've overheard people talking in Iphicles' palace...and, get this, Iolaus has died all kinds of times!"

Orrie stared at Nico, disbelief in his eyes. "No...when people die...they're dead."

"Uh uh...not if my Dad's around...I heard them say he's brought Iolaus back...just like that," Nico snapped his fingers, "... 'cause Iolaus is his best friend. So...as long as my Dad is around, we don't have to worry about anybody getting killed!"

Orrie just shook his head...this was impossible, wasn't it? Nico saw the kid was still really worried. Sighing, he took a seat beside Orrie, putting his arm around the boy's shoulders, "It's the truth, Orrie, I swear it! I wouldn't lie to you. Honest."

Orrie gazed up at Nico, saw the certainty and sincerity blazing in the older boy's eyes. Gradually, the white pinched look on his face gave way to an impish grin. "We might not have to worry," he said with a whisper, as he looked up toward the deck above their heads, "but if I was a Roman, I'd be scared...."

Nico laughed as he hugged the boy. They'd be alright...their fathers wouldn't let anything bad happen to them.

Sighing, Nico opened his eyes. That had been hours ago. It was completely dark now. No one had thought to give them anything to eat, and he was hungry. He'd believed what he said. Their dads would rescue them...but, first, they had to find them....Nico wondered how long that would take.

They had ridden hard all night, following trails up and over the mountains between Attica and the Bay of Corinth. Before leaving, the palace guards had changed from their uniforms into the worn, ordinary garb of fishermen, ready to assume that role once they were on the water. Living so near to the sea, they all knew how to handle a ship and fishing nets. They rode silently, with grim determination, each locked in his own thoughts. Linus felt consumed with guilt, believing there should have been something he could have done, should have done. Hector was focused on the mission ahead, already visualizing the eastern coast of Italy in his mind, the port of Brindisi...where to hide their boat when they got there...where to watch for the Roman ship's arrival. The soldiers rode with mixed feelings. They all knew the little Prince, all cared about him in a remote sort of way. He was a good kid...smart, lively. But, they did not delude themselves about the dangers they would be facing. These were Romans. The finest fighting men on earth. They knew they wouldn't all make it back. Hercules and Iolaus were eaten up by anxiety about the wellbeing of their sons, with guilt for not keeping them safe...with unholy anger at the Romans for daring to take the boys. Both held tight to Hector's assessment that the Romans would not harm the boys... anything else was unthinkable.

It was not yet dawn when their horses thundered into the fishing village of Lefktra, emerging like spectres out of the early morning mist, startling the fishermen who were just preparing to head out to sea. Hector pulled up near the docks, his eyes scanning the boats there, looking for the one which would suit his needs. Spotting a single masted sloop, large enough to accommodate their party, he directed his horse toward it, then dismounted, striding along the dock to call out to its master. He didn't need to worry about attracting the man's attention...everyone had stopped what they had been doing to stare at the mounted warriors in their midst. These men might be dressed as fishermen, but their ready stance, the weapons they carried, belied their true profession.

The fisherman stepped down from his boat to walk toward Hector, curious as to what was going on, wary in case the mounted men meant trouble.

Hector stopped in front of the man, holding out his hand. The fisherman looked at it, then extended his own to accept the traditional greeting...a friendly start was a good sign. Hector nodded, "My name is Hector...we've been sent by Queen Niobe of Attica to acquire a vessel for official purposes....your's would meet our needs."

The fisherman narrowed his eyes...the old 'official purposes' line...bottomline, it meant they were here to take his boat. Gazing past Hector, at the armed men, he realized with resignation that there wasn't much he could do to stop them. Hector could imagine what the man was thinking. Reaching into his shirt, he drew out a heavy pouch which he now held out to the fisherman. "Queen Niobe regrets the inconvenience and hopes that this gift of gold will assure you of her good intentions."

His eyes caught by the size of the bag, the fisherman looked back up at Hector with a slow smile. "Well, we're always pleased to be of service to the Queen." He reached out for the pouch, raising his eyebrows when he felt it's heft. Hector grinned a little cynically as he turned to wave his party forward, "Perhaps you would also be good enough to care for our mounts...we should be back within the week."

"It'll be an honour, sir," the fisherman assured him obsequiously, stepping back to give room to the men approaching to board his vessel. "Will you be needing someone to sail her?" he enquired, hoping not.

"No, thank you," Hector replied, "We'll manage." Nodding again to the fisherman, he followed the others onto the ship. One of his men had already begun raising the anchor, others were untying the heavy ropes binding the ship to the dock. Iolaus and Hercules had moved to the bow, anxious to be off, their tension showing in every line of their bodies, their faces turned toward the mouth of the bay...and the far coast of Italy.

They took shifts, sailing the boat, keeping watch. Some dropped nets over the side...it wouldn't hurt to have a few fish in the hold if they ever had to convince anyone they were fishermen. It took longer to sail to Italy than it would take coming back...they had to tack against the prevailing winds, which blew toward Greece. When they weren't occupied with a specific task, Hercules and Iolaus paced the decks, anxious for the hours to pass. Usually, when one was worried, the other was there to offer comfort...but, this time, they were both consumed with their fears for their sons, neither able to offer solace to the other. Their throats dry, their muscles stiff with tension, they paced the hours, grateful when the boat entered the Ionian Sea, to be that much closer to their objective.

The sea was an endless rolling turquoise to the western horizon. They sailed between the islands of Argostoli and Zakynthos, sea birds calling and swooping over them, seeking tidbits to satisfy their endless hunger. Restless, impatient, Iolaus unconsciously pounded the railing of the boat. Hector joined him, put a hand on his shoulder. Iolaus glanced at him, then faced back to the horizon. "We're making good time," Hector assured him, "We'll be there ahead of them." Iolaus nodded. Hector frowned with sympathy as he regarded his friend. Iolaus was coiled tighter than a spring...ready to explode. He needed to get him past this mindless waiting...and he'd run out of chores to assign him and Hercules. Turning, he spotted Hercules a few paces away, waved him over to join them.

When Herc had reached his side, Hector said, "We need to plan out what we're going to do when we get there."

Hercules nodded, and Iolaus, his attention gratefully caught by the need to think about something constructive, turned to face Hector, leaning back on the rail. "Sounds like you have an idea," he replied.

Hector nodded. "Years ago, I spent some time on the Italian coast...there's a cove about five miles up along the shore from Brindisi where we can leave this vessel. She's got a shallow draw, so we can bring her in close to shore. They're hills around the port, and from there, we can watch for the arrival of the Romans."

Hercules nodded, remembering the last time he'd passed through Brindisi, years ago, during one of his labours, in the days when he'd still been trying to placate the gods. "The town around the port isn't all that large...I wouldn't think they'd stay there...they'll be anxious to get to Rome."

Hector nodded, "Right...and there's only one road. Depending on when their ship docks, they won't be able to travel far before having to make camp for the night. When do you think it will be best to go in...while they're travelling, or when they've made camp?" The boys were their sons...it was their right to determine how this would proceed.

Hercules looked at Iolaus, raised an enquiring brow...it hadn't been all that many months before when they had invaded a camp to rescue other children...Iolaus had come up with a good strategy that time.

Iolaus saw the memory in Herc's eyes, nodded and turned back to Hector. "They'll be alert when they're on the march...and they will have the boys well guarded. I like the idea of going in just before dawn, when most are asleep...creates the most confusion when they're least prepared for defence."

Hector regarded the planks of the ship as he thought about this. Looking back at Iolaus, he replied, "I agree...that's the best time. So, do we just fight our way in and out?" he asked doubtfully, concerned about the safety of the young boys, caught in the melee of pitched battle.

Iolaus shook his head. "No...too dangerous for the kids. We need a distraction." Turning to Hercules, he continued, his eyes not quite focused as he played out the action in his mind. "Herc...I think I should lead a running attack on the camp...in and out, fast...drawing them after me and the soldiers. You, Hector and Linus, could be waiting, ready to go in once the main force has taken off after us...get the kids and head back to our boat. The rest of us will lead the Romans a merry chase, lose them, and then circle back to join up with you."

Hercules listened thoughtfully, tried to put himself in the place of the Romans...how would they react? Narrowing his eyes, he looked out at the sea, then back at Iolaus, "Once they see you, won't they be expecting to see me, too...and wonder if I'm not there...wonder where I am? I think I should be with you during the attack."

Iolaus chewed on his lip. "I'd feel better if you were with the kids...."

Hector looked from one to the other. "What if Hercules is part of the attack, but as soon as he is out of sight of the Romans, he could come back around, join up with Linus and me?"

Both men visualized this...yeah, that felt better. Herc looked at Iolaus...there was just one more thing. "Iolaus, I think you should stay with Hector and Linus...and I'll stay with the soldiers." Herc worried about Iolaus going up against the Romans. Niobe's palace guards were brave and willing...but they were no match for seasoned Roman warriors. If they couldn't outrun the Romans, they'd be in big trouble.

For the first time in hours, the tense lines of Iolaus' face gave way to a weary grin. "Uh uh...I know what you're thinking...you're scared I'll get caught! Herc, you know no one can run faster than me! Besides, if we can't keep them occupied long enough, if they turn back and come after you...the boys will need you with them...."

Herc searched Iolaus' eyes, looked away, sighed. As usual, when it came to battle tactics, Iolaus was right. There would only be three men with the boys...best if he was one of them. Reluctantly, he nodded, "Alright...makes sense. Just..."

"I know," chuckled Iolaus, "be careful."

Herc smiled softly as he nodded and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Yeah...be careful."

Satisfied he had given them something else to think about, Hector slipped away, to check on the other members of his force...Linus' spirits, in particular, were badly in need of bolstering.

They sailed all of that night, and most of the next day, before they finally spotted the hazy green of the Italian coastline ahead. It was dusk by the time Hector had guided the boat to the sheltered cove north of Brindisi. Securing the ship, the men gathered their weapons, dropped over the side of the boat into the waist high water, and waded to shore. In silence, they moved up the shoreline, climbing into the forested hills, heading south.

During the five day sail along the Aegean coast of Greece, around the Pelopponnese peninsula into the Ionian Sea and then across the Adriatic to the Italian coast, the boys' spirits and lifted and lowered with the waves and tides. Orrie was embarrassed and a little disgusted the first time he realized he needed to relieve himself... and there was no where to do it. He held on as long as he could, until finally the squirming alerted Nico to the boy's dilemma. Grinning, he said, "You know, this is a little like camping out." Casually, he looked around the hold...then pointed, "over there, in that corner, behind that pile of rope, that's the latrine." Orrie looked at the corner, then back at Nico...he'd been camping...it was a little like that. Pretending a nonchalance he didn't at all feel, he got up, ambled over, took a look...said with a grin, "My turn first!" as he scrambled around the obstacle which was almost as high as he was. Nico grinned...princes...you learned not to worry about stuff like this when you lived in an alley...it just didn't matter.

At times, they would huddle together, talking quietly but gleefully, about what would happen when Hercules and Iolaus finally caught up to the Romans. They imagined the pitched battle, the daring courage of their heroes, the dying Romans...and, while neither mentioned it, the bliss of being safe in strong arms. They passed many hours, dancing with fake swords, fighting mock battles, one or the other taking the part of a dramatically dying Roman as the other did a victory dance.

The Romans had finally remembered to feed them...twice a day they could count on a bowl of slop, whether they were hungry or not. Never having had anything less than palace food, unless it was freshly cooked boar or venison over an open campfire, Orrie was almost sickened by the mess that was pushed impatiently under his nose. Nico had learned to be less particular, but even he was singularly unimpressed.

At first, Orrie had objected, "Is this how Roman peasants treat a Prince?" he'd demand. The Romans just laughed at him. "Eat or not, Your Majesty," they'd respond with a mock bow, "it matters not to us!"

Nico just shook his head. The kid had spunk, he'd give him that...but alienating the Romans at this stage wouldn't help their cause...and calling them peasants wasn't the way to their affections. Orrie soon gave up the protests...being laughed at wounded his dignity, and he wasn't going to give them any excuses to belittle them. Instead, he would stand aside when they climbed down into the hold, either glaring at them, or pointedly turning his back on them. After a couple of days of these antics, Nico found himself getting annoyed.

"You're acting like a spoiled brat," he mumbled, irritated by the snickers of the Romans every time they beheld Orrie's royal disdain. "...and you're not impressing anyone."

Orrie stiffened, turning to face the older boy, stung into anger. "I suppose I should try to make friends with them, like you do...clowning around.... 'oh, and what do we have today, roast turkey or leg of lamb?'" he mimicked Nico's attempts bring a little much needed levity into their grim existance. "Makes me sick...you'd think you want to be a Roman." Orrie made a face at that appalling thought. "Roman, Roman," he chanted with contempt.

"Don't call me that!" snarled Nico, irritated, and when Orrie wouldn't stop, Nico stormed at him, knocking the smaller boy to the timbers beneath their feet. Orrie bounced back up and lunged at him, grabbing him around the waist, one foot behind Nico's leg, he twisted, just like his cousin Iolaus had taught him when they'd been wrestling and Nico found himself tumbled to the ground. "Brat," snarled Nico. Grabbing Orrie and pulling him down, they rolled and twisted in the filthy hold, pulling hair, punching one another...until Nico hit Orrie harder than he'd meant to...he was just so mad! And, Orrie rolled away against the hull, huddled with his back to Nico, his arms hugging his bruised body. Nico had started to crawl after him, reaching out an arm, ready to continue the battle, when he realized the smaller boy had withdrawn from the fight...was sobbing quietly.

Nico's shoulders sagged. 'Damn,' he thought '...what am I doing...I'm almost twice his size.' Aloud, he asked hesitantly, "Did I hurt you?"

Orrie snuffled, gave a quick shake of his head, but wouldn't turn around...wouldn't talk to him. Nico sighed. Even if he hadn't started it, he'd have to apologize. Crawling over to the smaller boy, he murmured quietly, "I'm sorry, Orrie...I didn't mean...I'm sorry."

Orrie still held his back rigid, sniffing. Nico made a face, twisted to sit more comfortably, put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm not trying to make friends with them...not exactly. It's just that...well, I've learned when you're smaller than the bad guys, sometimes it's better to distract them with a joke than to make them remember they have to watch you."

Orrie sniffed again, listening. He hadn't thought of it like that. "You called me a brat," he mumbled.

"Yeah, well...I didn't really mean it...it's just that the Prince act isn't working...it just makes them mad, so they laugh at you....maybe if you tried the pathetic little kid act, they'd give us something better to eat." Nico had used this ploy more than once to tease a hunk of bread or some cheese from some soft hearted matron in the village.

"Pathetic little kid act?" Orrie repeated. Intrigued, he rolled back to face Nico. "What's that?"

"You know, big wide innocent eyes, pathetic look, pitiful voice saying 'I'm so...hungry'...and a little tear rolling down a cheek wouldn't hurt any either...I know you can do it...I've seen you pull it on Linus or your Mother when they won't let you do something you want."

Despite himself, Orrie snickered a little. "Oh, yeah...that act...I always think of it as the 'poor Orestes' look...usually works, too."

Nico grinned...he'd seen a similar routine perpetrated on his father by Iolaus...the kid came by it honestly, anyway. Sighing, he looked down at the little kid, wishing he knew about Iolaus...feeling sorry for him. "Look, Orrie...I really am sorry I hit you...I just got so mad when you called me 'Roman'. I hate them...I really hate them."

Orrie looked up at him, "I'm sorry, too...I just...I just wanted to yell at someone." He sighed.

Nico reached down, pulling Orrie into a sitting position. "Well, I can sure understand that...but, let's not fight with each other, okay?"

"Okay."

Nico looked over at the forgotten bowls of socalled food. "Want to eat something?"

Orrie made a face. "No."

Looking down at Orrie with the wisdom of his years and experience, Nico cajoled, "You should, you know...you'll get weak...maybe sick...if you don't eat something...even if it is pretty awful," he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "If you're sick, it might make things harder for our...for my Dad and Iolaus, to rescue us." Gods, it was getting hard not to let it slip.

Orrie hadn't noticed the slight hesitation. Agreeing with Nico's reasoning, he nodded, got reluctantly to his feet. "Okay...I'll eat a little bit."

There were no more fights, and Orrie dutifully tried the pathetic little kid act...which did, surprisingly, result in somewhat better food, but, as the days wore on, his spirits sank lower and lower. He was getting tired of acting brave....tired of being afraid...he was starting to withdraw from the world around him. The further away they got from Greece, the more time that passed, the harder he found it to believe they'd ever get away. He became increasingly listless and apathetic, huddled against the hull, silent, except sometimes, in the dark, when he knew Nico was sleeping, he cried. But, Nico wasn't always asleep. Hearing the muffled sobs, his heart twisted...he was getting really worried about Orrie.

Nico tried to distract him with jokes and the stories he had heard from Iolaus, and, at first, it had worked...but, it had been a day since Orrie had said anything. He just laid there, staring up at the planking above. He'd even stopped eating. Nico was getting scared...he had to get through to him...had to take care of him. For the first time, Nico fully felt his sense of responsibility for the welfare of the smaller boy...for the first time, he realized he really cared about the kid...like he'd cared about his brothers.

Finally, he went over to lay down on the deck on his stomach, elbows taking his weight as he leaned over to look into Orrie's face...wanting to be sure to get the boy's attention. Orrie might know the lessons of royalty and diplomacy...but Nico knew the lessons of the street and survival. "You're letting them win," he accused softly. "What'll Iolaus think about that, when he hears you just gave up?" Nico cringed a bit inside when he saw Orrie wince. It was a low blow, and he knew it...but he was running out of better ideas.

Orrie shifted his eyes to gaze at Nico. "I'm not 'letting them win'," he protested.

"If you give up, they win...it's as simple as that," Nico stated flatly.

Orrie's eyes wandered, feeling desperate. "I don't know what to do...I'm scared," he admitted in a mortified whisper.

"I know," Nico responded softly, gentle with the little boy who had tried so hard to be brave, had been so spunky, "it's hard not to be scared...but, you have to be mad, instead."

Orrie frowned. "Mad?" he echoed.

"Yeah, furious, spitting mad...like you were when they first took us. Scared, you die...mad, you get even. Who do they think they are, anyway...so high and mighty...they'll be sorry they ever touched us... bastards!" Nico spit out.

Orrie, caught by this idea, raised himself onto his elbows, thought about how much he hated them, wished he could pound on them, make them pay. "Bastards," he repeated, daring to say the word his mother would punish him for... "bastards!" he repeated, spitting out the word as Nico had. "They'll be sorry!"

"Yeah!" confirmed Nico, relieved by the spark he saw light in Orrie's eyes. "Get really mad, Orrie! Promise yourself you'll die before you gave them the satisfaction of seeing you give up! Be stubborn. Show them how a Prince acts...never afraid, never defeated."

"I'm not giving up!" Orrie said, his voice stronger.

"That's right...you're not...and Iolaus will be proud of you, when he finds out you never let them win...." Nico was pushing, but he would use every trick in his book to encourage this kid to survive, to beat the Romans the only way they could...by resisting every step of the way, by refusing to let go of who they were, by holding onto their anger, nurturing it until the day the Romans were beaten.

Orrie looked up at Nico, a new determination on his face. He would see Iolaus again...his cousin was coming for him...it was only a matter of time. Nico had said so. And, he wanted Iolaus to be proud of him. Sitting up, he looked around. He was a Prince...princes never gave up. "Any of that horrible food left?" he asked.

Nico grinned, hiding his relief. It had worked...he'd pulled Orrie away from the edge. "Yeah," he said, rolling over and getting to his feet, "if you can call it food."

It was late on the fifth day when the ship finally stopped, banged against a pier. Grateful for the small mercy of being able to finally escape the filthy, stinking hold, they followed a legionnaire up the narrow ladderlike steps. Squinting against the unaccustomed bright light of the sun, they each took a deep breath of the sea scented salt air, trying to get their bearings. So, this was Italy. The wharf was busy, both with merchant ships and with Roman galleons. Men hustled back and forth along the docks, moving bales of goods, rolling barrels. Tradesmen hawked their goods, sailors and soldiers shouted to one another...the cacophony and milling activity was confusing. Nico lifted his eyes from the dock, took in the alleys and streets which rose into the town, which was built on the sloping shore of the Adriatic Sea...until the town gave way to steep hills. Orrie was looking at it all, too, trying hard not to be overwhelmed...how would Hercules and Iolaus ever find them? A legionnaire roughly grabbed his arm, pulling him forward, reminding him to be angry, to hate.

The boys were shoved onto the deck, surrounded by the legionnaires. The Tribune disembarked, called out some orders to form up and move out...and then they were being marched up through the town, until they had joined the Roman road...marching toward the centre of the Empire. Nico strode along, finding it hard to keep up, but he'd gotten used to travelling with Hercules and Iolaus, so he managed. Orrie soon found he had to scramble, had to jog...he just couldn't walk fast enough on his much shorter legs to keep up with the soldiers. When he stumbled, the man beside him just grabbed an arm, dragging him along. Nico shoved at the brute, took Orrie's arm to steady him, deliberately slowed his own pace. 'To Tarturus with them!' thought the street kid '...they can either walk at our pace, or they can carry us.' But, the Romans didn't slow down...they pushed the kids, dragging them when they didn't keep up.

Finally, the Tribune called a halt when they came to a relatively flat area close to the forest beside the road which had wound through the hills. The legionnaires set about making camp, using the small shovels they carried on their packs to dig a small trench, using their axes to cut saplings to make a ministockade...but, it was more gesture than real. They were in Italy...there was no need for the kind of defence measures they took when bivouacking in hostile territory. They built fires and shared out supplies. When the modest meal was over, one of the men approached the boys, pieces of rope in his hands. Nico and Orrie both put up a token resistance, kicking and biting, got cuffed for their efforts, and were finally securely bound, hand and foot, for the night. The Tribune was taking no chances on their sneaking away, now that they were on land. Finally, as darkness settled around them, the camp quietened, all but the sentries rolling into their capes to sleep. Nico stared up at the stars, knowing he had to keep being brave for Orrie's sake...but he was worried. They were being taken farther and farther away into this strange land. 'Where are you, Dad,' he wondered...and then, as he rolled over, trying to get comfortable, "Please hurry....I hate this."

The small company of Greeks had watched the port below them for two days...had started to worry that they had guessed wrong, when finally Linus spotted the odd passengers of the nondescript fishing vessel which had just pulled into port. Romans. Unconsciously holding his breath, he watched closely, letting it out with a jubilant sigh when he saw the boys climb onto the deck of the ship. Finally.

Turning, he signalled to the others, "They're here," he called quietly. Herc and Iolaus looked up at his words, bounded from the log on which they had been sitting, discussing where else the Romans might have landed, to lope over and stand beside Linus. "Where?" demanded Hercules, his eyes scanning the busy port.

"There, that fishing boat on the left," pointed Linus. Herc and Iolaus stared hungrily at the vessel, finally spotted their sons. "Thank the gods," breathed Iolaus. They hadn't guessed wrong. Watching, realizing the Romans were moving out immediately, the Greeks hastily broke their camp, stuffing supplies into their sacks, slinging scabbards over their shoulders or buckling on belt and scabbard. They moved out, keeping to the hills and forests above the Roman road. Iolaus and Hercules were watching, with barely contained fury, when the legionaires dragged their boys...watching when they were cuffed to the ground. Hector had to put a restraining hand on Iolaus' shoulder to calm him...unconsciously, he had started toward the Roman camp, not thinking, just reacting. Nobody was going to abuse his son like that. "Easy, Iolaus," Hector murmured, "it won't be long now."

Hercules had also stiffened, wanting to throw that Roman into next week. Hearing Hector's words, he forced himself to loosen his muscles. Hector was right. It wouldn't be long now. He flexed his fingers, imagining them around the legionnaire's throat. It wouldn't be long now.

It was an hour before dawn when the Greeks broke camp, silently preparing for battle. There was a grim tension amongst the soldiers...this was it...some of them would be hurt...some would not see the sun set. Casting fervent, if hasty, prayers to their favourite deities, they set out, moving like shadows in that peculiar grey that comes before dawn. Herc and Iolaus had to consciously exercise effort not to charge down the hill trails. They had kept their fear at bay for so many days, their desperate need to rescue their sons leashed until this moment, it was all they could do to move at a stealthy pace. Just inside the forest, on the edge of the clearing in which the Romans had set up their camp, the party halted, kneeling to peer through the early light, studying their target. They knew the boys were on the far side...they would keep the action well away from their location. The shallow trench and minimal stockade were of little concern...the Romans, uncharacteristically, had been sloppy...too assured of their own security on their home ground. They took note of the sentries, slouched at either end of the camp, resentful of a guard detail they hardly felt necessary.

Hector nodded, using hand signals to deploy his men. Herc laid a hand on Iolaus' shoulder, leaned close to whisper with scarcely a sound, "Be Careful!" Iolaus grinned back at him, winked, then silently moved forward, hunched low...eager for battle. Hector and Linus remained under the cover of the trees, waiting for their time to act.

The men crept forward, keeping in the blind spots of the sentries, who weren't bothering to keep an active watch. Moving as one man, two of the Greek soldiers stood, taking out the sentries simultaneously, before either even knew what had hit them. Then, screaming at the top of their lungs, the Greeks swarmed over the waist high palisade, engaging Romans who awoke befuddled, but trained to react without thought, to fight the enemy, wherever they found him. Swords clashed, men screamed...the Tribune spotted Iolaus on the other side of the camp, the rising sun catching the golden curls. "It's the Greek Traitor!" screamed the Tribune to his men, needing them to hear him over the noise of battle. "Take him!"

Hercules had heard the shout, his eyes finding the Tribune standing on the far side of the camp. The Roman's position near the boys had given him some respite, some time to take in the battle, before engaging in it himself. Herc could see the hate in the man's eyes...and the spark of anticipated triumph as the Tribune told himself that the fool traitor had put himself in reach...and he would not escape the much longed for revenge. The tide of the battle was turning against the Greeks, there were too many Romans...too few of them. He could also see the Romans legionaires were all gradually focused on getting to Iolaus...they wanted him badly. Herc yelled at Iolaus, "Run!"

Iolaus looked up, took in the stage of the battle and nodded. This had been the most difficult part to judge ...they had needed to engage the Romans to the point where they would not break off once the Greeks raced from their camp, but would follow, maddened by battle lust, determined to smite their enemies. On the far side of the camp, Iolaus had not heard the Tribune's shout...was unaware that he had been marked as a personal target. With a last quick glance toward the boys, ensuring himself they were unharmed, he captured Orrie's eyes and grinned to reassure his son. Iolaus knew the boy would be devastated to see them race away from the camp...believing they were being left behind. It couldn't be helped...and their sense of abandonment would not last for long. Turning, he called to the Greeks, then led them racing out of the camp...the Romans hard on their heels.

The Tribune hesitated only long enough to order six of his men to remain with the boys, then he too was racing out after the Greeks...he had spotted Hercules as well....with both of them within his reach, he could not stop the sense of exhilaration he felt. They were his...he would make them pay for the humiliation they had done to him...and to Rome. The fools, they were running away from Brindisi, running from any hope of escape...running toward Rome.

Charging around a bend about a quarter mile along the road, out of sight of the Romans, Hercules angled off into the trees. He turned to look toward Iolaus, who, scampering sideways, threw him a wave, then was off like a hare, leading his party away around another bend. Hercules faded into the shadows as the Romans pounded past, hot on the trail of their enemies. Turning, he loped off through the trees, back to meet up with Hector and Linus. He was worried about Iolaus....worried about the look he had seen in the Tribune's eyes. This was personal...the Roman wouldn't give up. Pushing back his growing sense of anxiety, he kept focused on his mission. First things first...he had to make sure the boys were safe. 'Hang on, Nico,' Herc sent a silent assurance to his son, "I'm coming back for you.'

The boys had been awakened by the angry clash of battle around them. Alarmed, they had cringed back into the paltry shelter of the palisade at their backs, Nico putting himself a little in front of Orrie, to shield him. It didn't take them long, however, to realize what was going on. "Dad!" cried Nico, just as Orrie spotted Iolaus. They were here! They'd come for them! Nico watched with excitement and pride as his father slammed two Romans together, then threw them high over the palisade, to land hard and unmoving in the dust beyond. 'That's my Dad!' he thought smugly. But, their joy at being rescued was shortlived. They heard the Tribune's shout, not knowing who he meant, until they saw him point toward Iolaus. Orrie gasped...he'd overheard servants in the Palace talking about the resistance...had heard, with not a little pride, that Iolaus was known to be the leader. The boys watched as the Romans began to overcome the Greeks, pushing them back...watched as they ran from the camp. Both boys had caught their fathers' eyes, both had registered the reassuring looks...but, now they were confused. What was going on?

When the last of the Romans disappeared around the bend ahead, Orrie slumped down onto the ground beneath him. Iolaus had left him...worse even than that...the Roman Tribune had marked his cousin... Would he be alright? Would he get away? Nico looked down at the younger boy, saw the disappointment he felt mirrored in the child's face...saw the pinched look of fear begin to darken the kid's eyes. He knelt down beside Orrie, put an arm around him. "They'll be back," he whispered, forcing confidence into his voice, "don't worry." Orrie turned to look at Nico, a shuddering sigh escaping his lips. "Don't give up!" Nico encouraged him further. Stiffening his shoulders, Orrie drew on the tattered vestiges of his determination to be strong...to make Iolaus proud. Finally, he nodded...but, he couldn't force any words past the lump of fear in his throat.

Their guards were disgusted with being stuck with babysitting duty when they would have vastly preferred to be tearing those traitorous Greeks apart. Stomping around, they began to put the camp to rights, packing up the gear, preparing to move out when the others got back. With a grim satisfaction, they noted there had been few injuries...only the sentries and the two unconscious men beyond the camp who had been thrown there by Hercules. Four of them went out to drag their unlucky comrades back inside their token garrison. Unfortunately, they reflected, there weren't any injured Greeks left behind either. Ignoring the boys as they stared up the road, they could only imagine the battle unfolding. None of them considered there was any threat left near them...they had all seen Hercules and Iolaus take off with the rest of the Greeks. Cowards, they wouldn't even stand and fight for their own kin....

Herc quietly made his way to Hector and Linus. They had been watching for him, were standing ready when he reached their side. He nodded at them, before leading them out of the shadows toward the camp. The overconfident guards weren't even looking back this way...they could walk right in.

Herc kept an eye on the boys as the three of them silently crossed the short distance to the edge of the campsite. When Nico turned, his eyes widening when he spotted his father, Herc quickly put a finger to his lips, warning his son to remain silent. Nico looked toward the guards, then back, nodding. Then he turned to lean down to Orrie's ear, "Shhhh," he whispered, "not a sound...but...look who's here!" Orrie swiveled around, spotted Hercules, Hector and Linus...and his face lit up with a smile of relief....until, quickly scanning around, he realized he didn't see Iolaus anywhere. The smile disappeared, as he waited to see what would happen next.

Nico wanted desperately to help, but knew he'd just be in the way. He started working on the ropes that bound his feet. He could at least help make sure they'd be ready to run when the time came.

Herc, Hector and Linus had eased over the palisade, and had separated a little, as they moved up silently behind the six guards. The odds weren't great...but, with surprise on their side, not to mention Hercules, they weren't all that bad, either. Herc positioned himself between the two biggest guards, just behind their backs. Leaning forward, he tapped one on the shoulder. "Waiting for us?" he enquired softly. Startled, the guards wheeled to face him, but he just grabbed a head in each hand and clapped them together. The Romans fell like stones to his feet. Meanwhile, Linus and Hector had each knocked a guard out with the hilt of their swords, before turning to face the remaining two who had had sufficient time to pull their swords from their belts. The rescuers were between the Romans and the boys, ensuring they would remain out of danger. Having the advantage of pent up rage, Hector and Linus made short work of their enemies.

Hercules had left them to it, turning immediately to go to his son. Folding Nico tightly in his arms, he just held on for a moment, eyes tight shut, grateful his son was alright. Then, he reached out a hand to pull Orrie into the embrace. He released them when Hector and Linus joined them...they used their swords to cut loose the ropes binding the boys. Orrie was still looking around, trying not to let his increasingly frantic worry about Iolaus overcome his tenuous control. Looking up at Hercules, he asked, "Where's Iolaus...where're the others?"

Herc laid a reassuring hand on his head. "It's okay, Orrie...Iolaus is just drawing them away, giving us time to get you and Nico out of here. C'mon...we have to hurry." Turning, he led them back across the camp.

When he got to the palisade, he climbed over before lifting Nico after him, then picked up Orrie. Looking down at the boy in his arms, he explained, "Orrie, I'm going to carry you...we have to travel fast...okay?"

Orrie nodded...he knew he couldn't keep up with them on his own.

They quickly crossed the clearing, heading into the trees...heading back toward their ship.

They hadn't gone far when Hercules pulled up...he couldn't do it...he couldn't just go without knowing Iolaus was alright. The boys were safe now...Hector and Linus could get them to the ship. Hector paused, looking back at him with a questioning look. "I have to go after them," Herc said quietly, trying to keep his growing anxiety out of his voice...he didn't want to scare the boys. "I'll stay between you and the Romans...if they start heading in your direction, I'll hold them off." It was the closest he could come to expressing his fear that the Greek palace guard didn't stand a chance against the professional warriors.

Hector nodded...he'd been worrying about the same thing. "Alright...we'll wait for you at the cove."

"Just until dark," Herc said. "If we're not back by then, take the boys and get away from the coast...get them home."

Nico and Orrie had been listening to this exchange. "Dad...."

Herc handed Orrie to Linus, then knelt beside his son. "I have to do this, Nico." Glancing quickly at Orrie, he continued more quietly, "And, I need you to go with them...Orrie needs you. I'll be alright...but, I want to make sure Iolaus has gotten away from the Romans."

Nico glanced at Orrie, then back at his father. This responsibility stuff stank. But, he nodded. He wouldn't be anything but a burden to his father if Hercules needed to fight...and Nico was worried about Iolaus, too. He hugged his Dad, whispering, "Okay...just...just don't take too long." Herc gave his son a squeeze, then stood to gently touch Orrie's hair. He could see the child was almost panicked by his fear for Iolaus. "Don't worry, Orrie...Iolaus and I, and the others, will catch up to you soon." Then, he turned and loped off to the northwest, toward the Roman road. It had been an hour since he'd last seen Iolaus tearing up that road...he wondered how far they had gotten, before they had had to turn and fight.

They had gotten a mile and half down the road, before the Romans gained on them. After that, it was a desperate running battle as the Greeks fought while still trying to draw the Romans further from their camp...further from their hostages. The men with Iolaus fought bravely, and they did some damage. The realization that defeat meant death lent power and strength to them...but, it wasn't enough. The Romans were just better warriors, more skilled in the art of killing...and, there were many more of them. One by one, the Greeks fell....long after they should have, given their wounds. Blood streaming from hacked arms, slashed legs, they stumbled on, fighting even after they had lost their footing, slipping on their own blood. Fighting to the death. As their numbers dwindled, the Tribune yelled out, "Don't kill the Traitor...I want him alive!"

One by one, the Greeks died, until only Iolaus was left fighting without pause, twisting and leaping away from his opponents...kicking one away as he turned to slash his sword across the body of another, trying to keep ahead of them, trying not to let them get around him, box him in. But, it was only a matter of time. Iolaus was engaged in a fast, vicious sword fight with three Romans, when he felt the burn of cold steel through his back. Stumbling, he looked down and saw the tip of a sword come through his right side, just under his ribs, groaned unconsciously as he felt it pulled out. His sword dropped from his hand as his legs buckled...he fell to his knees in the dust, his hand pressing against his injured side. Two legionaires moved to stand on each side of him, their hands gripping his shoulders, digging in...making sure he wasn't going anywhere. It was over. Iolaus bowed his head a moment, thinking about Orestes and Nico, victorious in his defeat, knowing Herc would have the boys safely away by now. He raised his head, to stare defiantly at the Tribune who was pushing legionnaires aside, striding to stand before the man he hated above all others, gloating in his victory.

The Tribune stood and looked down at Iolaus, a smile of triumph on his lips. "And, so, Iolaus...we meet again."

Iolaus studied the man's face, not recognising him at first...then, with a tone of contempt, "You're the Tribune from the Square...the one who got chased away with his tail between his legs."

The Tribune's smile faltered. Enraged, he backhanded Iolaus across the face. Iolaus' head snapped to the side. He held the position, gingerly touching his tongue to the new cut on his lip, thinking the Tribune was too proud of himself...too satisfied. He hadn't yet noticed that Hercules was no longer there. 'Keep up the distraction, Iolaus,' he told himself as he turned back to face his captor...Iolaus' look of defiance had not dimmed, and his voice dripped with disdain as he enquired quietly, "Feel better now?"

"Not yet," growled the Tribune, "but I will...you made a mistake coming after us. In Greece, you were safe...but you violated the terms of your amnesty when you attacked our camp."

"Did I?" responded Iolaus, looking around at the men who surrounded him, as if bored. "Frankly, I hadn't even thought about it."

"You are a traitor against the Empire...the penalty is death."

"Yeah, yeah, a fitting penalty for fighting off greedy oppressors and then for the utter gall to try to rescue kids you stole," Iolaus answered, his eyes flashing with anger at the legionaires who surrounded him, "but, you'll have to get me to Rome first...and that's a long way, yet."

"No," murmured the Tribune, "I have the authority to act. Here. Now. You're mine."

Iolaus brought his eyes back to the Tribune. Saw the hate burning there. It was hopeless then...there was nowhere to run, no way to overcome all of the Roman legionaires surrounding him, no way to postpone, delay, evade...it was done. Best, then, to end it quickly. Raising his head higher, exposing his throat to the man's sword, Iolaus grated, "Kill me then and have done with it. You bore me."

A cruel smile curved around the Tribune's lips. "Oh no...you don't get off that easy. Rome demands those who rise against her to suffer before they die." Looking around at his men, the Tribune commanded, "Crucify him!"

Iolaus felt horror at the words. His eyes widened...then he was in motion. Twisting suddenly to the side, Iolaus broke the hold of the complacent legionaires beside him, rolling, ignoring the pull of agony from his wound, tripping the legionnaire standing close beside him, spinning up to a sweeping kick, taking out the legs of the next one who came at him...a blur of energy and action. Standing, he spun away from one grasping hand, used his elbows to painfully hit back into the solar plexis of the man behind him, while his head whipped back to crunch the man's nose. Spinning again, he evaded another....kicking, punching, fighting to make them kill him fast, lest he get away.

It was a grim, desperate bid to trick them into killing him, trick them into a mercy they would never consciously give. As he twisted and fought, stumbled and ran, tripped and turned, he was fired by his heartstopping horror of what they planned to do to him....Gods, if there was a worse way to die, he didn't know what it was....Iolaus pulled away from hands which grabbed at him, lashed into faces, kicked groins. He was a whirlwind of angry resistance and valour...but, his energy, his courage could not overcome his wound, which sapped his strength and speed as blood spilled from his back and side. There were too many of them...he couldn't break free. And they would not act against their orders....the Tribune wanted him alive. They all did. They all wanted to see him on a cross.

Finally, he was overcome, borne to the ground, held there by men who leaned their knees into his back, sat on his legs, clubbed him into submission. Spent, he sagged into the earth. "Gods..." he thought, forcing back his instinctive fear of what was to come. They could torture him. They could kill him. But, they couldn't break his spirit. He'd not give them the satisfaction.

A group of legionnaires headed into the forest, returning too quickly to suit Iolaus, with heavy logs they had hastily chopped down..one length of wood shorter than the other. Others had dug a hole at the side of the road, into which they would secure the finished cross. Two men bound the two pieces of rough wood together with vines they had pulled from the trees, while still others pulled iron spikes from their packs.

The instrument of his torture completed, his captors roughly pulled him up, dragging him to the cross, throwing him down upon it, they resisted his final struggles, held him tight. Two grabbed his right arm, pulling it up over his head and across, holding his wrist securely against the wood, as a third took his spike, held the point against Iolaus' wrist at the base of his palm, and, with the head of his axe, pounded it through into the wood beyond. Iolaus gritted his teeth, fighting back the scream in his throat as the searing agony tore up his arm. Then, they were pulling his left arm up...nailing his left wrist to the wood. Tears of pain he could not control blurred his eyes, but he hadn't cried out. He kicked at the man who was grabbing his feet, dragging off his boots, pulling his bare feet together, crossing his ankles over the long beam of wood under his back. A last spike was pounded, shattering bones as it angled through his ankles and lower legs, into the wood beneath.

The Romans dragged the cross, and its burden, over to the hole they had dug. Grabbing the cross beam, while others guided the foot of the cross, legionnaires lifted it, settled it into it's hole, pounded smaller pieces of wood into the packed earth around it to secure it, hold it upright. Finished, they stood back. Admired their work.

The Tribune strolled to the foot of the cross, looked up at Iolaus. "Do you know why men die on a cross, Iolaus?" he asked, with satisfaction. Iolaus glared at him, said nothing. The only weapon he had left was silence.... Undeterred, the Tribune continued, "The weight of your body drags your internal organs out of alignment. Your lungs fill with fluid until the swelling squeezes your heart...until it stops. It takes a long time to die that way. A long time." The Tribune smiled up at him. "When we want to be merciful, we break the legs of men on the cross...the shock kills them faster." Looking around at his men, he continued, "But, we don't want to be merciful, Iolaus...because of you, too many of our comrades will never march again. Die, you bastard...but...die slowly."

Iolaus licked his parched lips, conjuring up moisture in his mouth. Spitting at the Tribune, he grated, "I'll see you in Tarturus."

The Tribune laughed cruelly. "Maybe," he allowed, "but not for a long time."

Turning his back on Iolaus, he ordered his men back into line. They marched back toward their camp, picking up their wounded on the way, leaving the Greeks where they had fallen. Iolaus watched them go, his head pressed back against the wood behind him. "Stupid bastard," the warrior murmured, weary triumph in his voice, "you still haven't noticed Herc isn't here."

Hercules' heart sank when he spotted the first body of one of their comrades on the road just beyond the forest through which he had been running to catch up with his friend. His step faltered a moment, then with a renewed sense of impending dread, he raced on. More bodies...Roman and Greek...he'd run another ten minutes before he heard the beat of marching feet coming back toward him along the road to his left. Pausing, he waited silently for the Romans to pass, watched them go by, carrying their fallen. 'Iolaus,' he thought, feeling the cold hand of fear clutch his heart, 'Where's Iolaus? What's happened to him?'

When the Romans had disappeared around the road ahead, Iolaus had let his head fall forward, allowed a low moan escape his lips. The weight of his body was pulling unmercifully on the spikes holding him to the cross, tearing up into his palms and through his lower legs, twisting and cracking bone, tearing through muscle, ligaments and nerves. Blood flowed freely along his arms, dripping along the sides of his body, from his legs onto his feet, and then spilled to stain the earth below.

"Please, 'Dite," Iolaus thought only half whimsically, "if you love me, let me die quickly."

As soon as the Romans were past, Hercules turned to run back the way they had come, moving onto the road once they had rounded a bend, marching out of sight. His feet pounded the solid surface of the road...letting him race faster, desperation driving him on.

Hanging from the wooden cross, his body wracked with pain, his consciousness beginning to blur from the loss