Author's Note: This story doesn't really need an intro, except to say that I've heard an awful lot about Skouros in FF but precious little about Iolaus' mother, Erythia. I thought there were some issues that needed dealing with.
Grateful thanks to Heidi and Rhiannon for their able betaing.
Part One
The Scrolls
In the usual order of things I would be speaking of the azure blue of the sky, and the kindly touch of the west wind. But this is not of the usual order, this is something far different for me - a humble poet - who usually speaks only of the nature of love and the love of nature in his work. This is not usual at all but I wish to record it anyway, as there seems to be nobody else to complete the task. Or, more rightly, nobody else who wishes to give the truth of this thing immortality.
For that is what we do, the poets and the bards, we give the gods and the heroes their immortality; we let them live on into eternity. We put new life into an old rose, so that generations to come will be able to enjoy its scent. I include myself grudgingly as I do not pretend equal status to any of the great poets of our time but it is the way I earn my food, it is the way I protect my wife. Ah, yes, Erythia. She is beautiful to me, but she has led a difficult life and her face is careworn and too often tired, she is central to my tale though.
We met relatively late in life; we had both loved before, been married before. We were both widowed and alone. When we found each other it filled a need, it gave us company on cold nights. It gave us comfort.
I have never had the responsibility of children, I have had to learn through my beautiful Erythia of the love and pain and pride that being a parent brings. I have seen for myself what a mother's love can be. I have watched helpless as she wept tears for a son she thought was lost to her. I did not know how to comfort her or to protect her when the son returned. I wanted to hate him for all the suffering he put her through, I wanted him to be a bad person; I wanted him to be cruel and selfish and easy to dismiss. I tried to make him such a person but it was not the truth, he was none of these things. After all these years of listening to the bards talk of heroes I finally met one for myself - and he was my wife's son.
Perhaps reading this you will think me presumptuous, too involved; perhaps you will think me foolish in attempting to write this history. A history should be filled with truth, its light shining through every word. Truth is best seen with perspective and how can I have any perspective? It is a valid question; even now I still feel a vast array of emotions when I think of my wife and my stepson. Perhaps if I call this a 'personal history' you will forgive me?
My darling wife's son, the closest thing I will ever have to a son of my own. Now that I let myself see him for who he is rather than what he did to his mother I can see the light he has. And like all light it is filled with truth and as such should be recorded honestly.
His name is Iolaus; his father was General Skouros. Iolaus should be remembered as a part of the history of Greece, he should be remembered as partner to Hercules but he should also be remembered as a hero, a friend, and a son. This is my personal history of Iolaus; I try to be fair and honest in all that I say. And why do I say it? I say it because it should be said, because a mother needs to understand her son, she needs to be proud. And my darling Erythia, you should be very proud of your son Iolaus.
When he first came back to his mother, after so many years, it was difficult for us to accept him. At first neither of us could welcome him into our hearts. A mother that could not be proud of her son because she no longer knew him, a stepfather who only wanted to hate because all he had seen was the pain the child had caused. There are always more sides to the story than you can see, as a poet I should have been more willing to acknowledge that. I admit my failing.
Iolaus was always honest with us, he accepted our doubts, he did not quarrel with our opinions even knowing how wrong we were. He was a son with a large burden of guilt - some of which was fairly his, after all, how long had it been since he had seen his mother? He had managed to build himself a new family through his loving heart but he had turned his back on a painful past and not had the courage to re-visit it until his new family left him. That was a failing, but we are all human and we all have failings. Eventually I could understand. One day I hope that Erythia can too, on that day she will not just be proud of her son, but she will allow herself to feel his love too.
He left us with promises to return soon, Erythia hovered between hope and despair. She knew he would come back to her and she was positive he would not. It was a dilemma I could not help her with, there were too many demons rearing up at her out of the past, too much of Skouros in her dreams. She had made mistakes too.
Then the rumours started, Hercules' friend was dead, killed in Sumeria by the hand of another demigod. Erythia was distraught; I was filled with anxiety. This golden light that had entered our lives so recently was extinguished? Already? It was hard to bear. The days and weeks that followed were difficult; I hate to go back to them now.
News was scarce, so many people knew of Iolaus, but so few of them knew what was happening now. Stories sprang up about a new God, Dahak. They said that he would save the world, banish our petty Gods, bring us everlasting peace and harmony. They said he had chosen Iolaus as a vessel for his being, they said Iolaus had risen from the dead to save us all. Erythia wept.
I did not know what to do, my wife wept, mourning the loss of her son, fearing the truth of the rumours about him. She needed to know, but I could not let her see the truth. Dahak sounded to be an evil incarnation, a demon; I could not risk her seeing her beloved son in such a guise. So I prepared to go on a journey - a short one as it turned out - to discover the truth for myself. I found a well with no bottom, filled with despair and agonies beyond my understanding. I was a poet; I was not born for adventure.
It was to the city in which Dahak now preached that I travelled. I sat silent and horrified in the back of his temple as the creature cast his spell. If I had not remembered Iolaus as he had been - seen visions of him running into that burning building to save the children - if I had been blind to that I would have been taken in too. But this man that stood in front of me, this man with Iolaus' golden hair and azure eyes; this was not Iolaus, this was an abomination using my stepson's dead body to gain his own glory.
I watched him and listened to his forked tongue speak and I felt hot tears on my face, how could I ever tell Erythia that this was what had happened to her son.
Was he still in there somewhere? Did he know how he was being used? Or was Iolaus gone now, in Elysium with the other heroes where he belonged? For several days I returned to watch, and I feared the worst. Iolaus may be dead, but his spirit was still trapped within this creature in the white robes. He spat venom at our Gods, he vilified his dearest friend; but Iolaus was there, somehow I knew that truth.
When Hercules arrived with his new friends, the two women Morrigan and Nebula, I knew that it was time for me to be with my wife. I left the city knowing that a battle was coming that would shape our history, the very fabric of the world in which we lived. It humbled me to think that Iolaus could play a part in such an event. I went home to Erythia, used my words to meaningless ends, comforting her when there was no comfort to be had, knowing that she should not have to know of Iolaus' true fate.
Hercules freed his friend, his soul brother; he allowed him safe passage to a better place. Death led our son Iolaus to a place that was simply called The Light. No Elysian Fields for him, not to Hades did he go, Charon would not see a fee from my wife's son. We did not understand, how could we? For all our lives, and for all the lives of our ancestors, death had meant visiting Tartarus and a decision by Hades for our fate. For Iolaus it was something else, something far more rare and special.
Erythia was proud. She did not know why or how she should be so, but she was. Her son was special; he had been singled out in a very particular way. Oh, but he was still dead, and she was a mother who bore the loss heavily. No parent should have to outlive their child, but a parent that never got the chance to reconcile herself with her son, never got the chance to really know him ... that was unfair and she suffered for it.
It was a strange time to live in, people seemed fragile somehow. So many spoke of Iolaus, remembered him, were confused by his final guise. So much feeling for my wife's son. I was humbled yet again by the power of his soul. He had truly been a special man and it was a real sorrow in me that he had never totally reconciled himself with his blood family and with his past. I did not know his story, I only knew his mother's. I was a poet in search of a lost rhyme; I was a man with a mission. Iolaus was my mission, who had he been? Why had he abandoned his mother when every other sign had shown him as a good and loving man? I needed answers and Erythia was not able to give them to me.
At first it was easy, I went into the town, I went into the city, I talked to people. They all wanted to talk, so many of them had their stories of Iolaus. He was famous, he was infamous, many people lived off of their tales. It was a good thing that I had the means to pay for their meals, and also a good thing that poets know how to listen as well as to speak.
Iolaus the hero, Iolaus the rascal, Iolaus the impudent young pup who had stolen bread from them. I heard all the tales and I let them talk, for hours sometimes before I got the new information, the next piece of the puzzle. I wanted to hear about Skouros; he was a subject Erythia rarely discussed and the more I heard the more I understood. Found abandoned by the river as a child, Skouros had never known who his parents were, he had always felt displaced, unwanted. He had never learned how to love.
He had met and married the young and very beautiful Erythia because that was what a young soldier should do. He had given her children because that was what a soldier should do. He fancied the idea of having a son to follow in his footsteps; he enjoyed the idea of giving his son the security and the future he had never had. Skouros wanted his son to emulate him; he wanted his son to reach even greater heights. He could never know the heights his son did reach. He would never have understood just how important Iolaus has become in our history. All Skouros could see were battle-lines; all he could understand was the strategy of war.
I suppose that being raised in an impersonal orphanage and being conscripted to a soldier's life will do that to a child. He had no experience of love; he never had the opportunity to learn how to cope with a family. His wife never had a chance, and neither did his children.
There was violence, and I suppose I must report it to be truthful. But I do not wish to, you must remember that I love the woman in this tale, it hurts me when she is hurt. It tears me apart to know she was treated so shabbily by such a powerful man. But it also explains her reticence when I first met her; it explains why it took so long for her to trust me.
You must understand though, he was never violent towards Erythia or the girls. Not one of the people I spoke to saw any sign of that, there were never bruises or broken bones - not for Erythia. But Iolaus ... I think it was different for him. His father accused him of being a crybaby, which would have cut deep. A boy who became such a bold warrior by all accounts would have been cut to the quick by any accusation of cowardice, especially from his own father. But what if he had stood up to Skouros? He was but a child, and small for his age, his lack of constraint would have got him into trouble wouldn't it? Time and again probably. How could an old soldier so stuck in his ways as Skouros, possibly understand his quicksilver son.
Skouros called his son 'runt', the townsfolk heard it. He publicly humiliated the boy, but never while his wife was present. If she was there it was her responsibility to keep Iolaus in check, and for some reason she did. He obeyed her word with never a murmur of dissent. Skouros did not have that power.
So, rumours abounded. Iolaus would sometimes sport black eyes and bruised ribs, but only when his father was home from battle. He never confided in anyone - unless the person he confided in is now dead or keeps their silence - perhaps that is the case. Perhaps Hercules knew, perhaps Hercules' mother knew. Maybe that is where Iolaus started to feel as if they were his true family. He never spoke of it to his mother; she never spoke of it to him. Pride too great in the son; fear too great in the mother.
But Erythia must have known, how could she not. Her son, her husband, living under the same roof. She must have known. Perhaps that is why she won't speak of it; perhaps that is why she feels such responsibility, even now. She did nothing to stop her husband bullying her son, what could she have done? Taken the children and left him? In another time, in another world perhaps. But not in Greece, not in our lifetime. The only protection she had for her children was her husband's name, without that they were fair game while he was gone. There was a price to pay, Skouros was a bully to his whole family, and Erythia must have known that it was worse for her only son. But without Skouros, they would have been lost. She was protecting her family the only way she knew how. Iolaus was a boy, let him cope with his father. Sons always had to cope with their fathers, didn't they?
Perhaps she overestimated her son, more likely she chose to be blind to her husband. In any event Iolaus felt he had no choice but to leave, without even saying goodbye to his sisters or his mother. Perhaps he felt that someone would die if he didn't leave, perhaps he was too ashamed to face his family after turning to a life of theft. Whatever the reason Iolaus was no longer a part of his family's life.
I heard all of this from the local gossips of Thebes and Corinth, only too happy to share all their stories of the young impulsive Iolaus. Some stories I know to be fiction, too tall to possibly be true, some hold perhaps a kernel of truth and others, all too rare, have that sound to them, the sound of truth. Iolaus was a good boy, a child who learned of love from his mother; but had a hard lesson to learn from his father, a lesson that he held within.
Maybe he thought he was protecting his mother by leaving her, and once he was gone he couldn't easily return, shame too big in his heart. Even though I know the pain he caused in his decision to leave I can still feel sorrow for that child and the adult he became.
After hearing all the stories in my locality I had to journey farther afield, I had to speak to Hercules. Who else could tell me who Iolaus really was? Who else knew him as well as the son of Zeus? It was not easy finding Hercules, and when I did, I didn't know how to approach him. He had lost the other half of his heart and here I was, trying to intervene in this his time of sorrow. But he was so generous of spirit, so gentle and kind that I felt I could ask him. Please, tell me of your friend.
Once he knew who I was he was only too happy to talk of Iolaus. It was as if there was a great weight on him and by talking he could lift it, slowly, inch by inch. Iolaus had told him of me, had spoken fondly of me. He'd been proud that his mother had found a poet as a husband. The usual reaction of soldiers and warriors was of derision. I felt at a loss, my heart could not believe such easy acceptance from this source. Not when I had tried so hard to hate Iolaus.
Hercules smiled at my reaction and tried to explain that Iolaus was not merely a soldier as his father had been; he was also his mother's son. He had an unfailing curiosity in all things, and he could appreciate paths other than his own. There were all types of men Iolaus called friend; farmers and Inn Keepers, men who had never borne arms in their lives, men more like me than Iolaus. This new knowledge confused me, the more I heard about my stepson the more I wanted to understand him.
Hercules talked for hours, the range of emotions he was feeling reflecting on his face. Many of his memories brought smiles, even laughter, and there was warmth in his words, love. Iolaus had been a very special man and I began to regret more and more that I had never really known him. At least in writing this history I could discover who he had been and record it for posterity. Leave his memory as a beacon to guide people through darkness and fear.
Skouros. I had asked Hercules about Skouros and at first he wouldn't speak of his best friend's father. But then, staring into the middle-distance he remembered a run in with the General. Skouros was newly home from his latest campaign, his armour still bloody, his horse fighting exhaustion. He rode through town as if he owned it, looking down his nose at all the people he was employed to protect as if they were vermin. Hercules had been with his mother, and when she had spotted Skouros she had tried to steer her son away from his path. Hercules had smiled ruefully at the memory and said, "But sons aren't always good at doing what their mothers want, are they?"
The young Hercules had been curious, he'd never met his friend's father before, and Iolaus never really spoke of him. No more than ten years old the boy had boldly gone up to the General's horse and introduced himself. He had thought Skouros would be glad to see his son's best friend, the adult Hercules chuckled at a child's naiveté.
Skouros had glowered at the boy and kicked his horse on, pushing Hercules to the ground in his irritation at the distraction. The son of Zeus had been distraught, not understanding how the father of someone so full of joy and love could be so cold and full of hate. Alcmene had tried to explain, but she couldn't really understand the man either, her own husband had been a soldier, but he'd been nothing like Skouros.
Writing these words - this truth - it makes me wonder about Alcmene. I know that Iolaus loved her as he did his own mother, and from what Hercules told me she loved him like a son. I wish that she were still alive and I could ask her for myself but ... I wonder what she thought of Erythia, I wonder if ... but my wife is reluctant to speak of her first husband, or of her life back then, and she had never spoken of Alcmene at all. Still ... I do wonder. A woman so full of kindness and love, surely she talked with the boy's mother, surely she tried to help the family.
There are imponderables in life, in everyone's lives. Things that nobody else will ever learn of. Times that you had to be a part of to understand. Memories that are too painful, too shameful, to want to share with anyone new; even if you trust them, even if you love them. I suppose that is the explanation that I will have to live with. Erythia loved her son; Iolaus loved his mother. Skouros did not know love at all, and he somehow managed to taint the bond between mother and son. Perhaps Iolaus saw the happy love between Alcmene and Hercules; perhaps he compared it to his own life. If he did it is hardly a surprise that he became so fond of his friend's mother.
I seem to go round and round in circles with this history. I don't do justice to my wife's son. How can I put into words all that I learned whilst Iolaus was in The Light? How can I tell of his return? But what I really want and seem to be failing at, is to reconcile my wife to her past, to finally bring her and her son together in understanding and love. How can I do that?
Part Two
What Iolaus had to say
Iolaus looked up from the scroll with eyes that glistened, "You write beautifully Pandion. Did you really do all that because of me?"
Pandion, the poet, simply nodded. It seemed as though all his words had been used on the scroll; he had none left now. When he had first started writing he had hoped that one day Erythia would read it and perhaps Hercules; he hadn't dreamed that Iolaus himself would ever get the chance to read his words. He never dreamed that he would get the chance to ask Iolaus all those questions that remained unanswered. He had believed Erythia's son to be dead. But with Iolaus it seemed that even death wasn't final.
The news of Iolaus' return had come by rumour, hidden amongst the stories people were telling of the four horsemen and their dread curses. Pandion had listened to the stories, heard of how Hercules had faced this power larger that all of the Gods of Greece put together and had marvelled remembering the quiet gentle man he had talked with. And then there had been a garbled account of Hercules facing Michael with a man by his side, a small, blond man who seemed strangely familiar.
Erythia refused to believe the gossip; she refused to believe that her son was returned to life. She said that she would believe it only when she saw him for herself, and she wasn't about to start holding her breath. Even when the news came from more reputable sources, even when Pandion had been convinced of its truth, Erythia would not believe. She dare not.
Iolaus had not come to visit his family straight away, he had needed time to re-adjust to life, he'd wanted to spend some time with Hercules without any complications pushing their way into his thoughts. Iolaus had wanted to keep things simple for awhile, and that's what he had done. But eventually Hercules had gently suggested that they visit Erythia and Pandion, that perhaps it was time.
And so it was that he sat in the evening sunlight reading the scroll Pandion had handed him. Iolaus didn't know what to say or think. Emotions were filling his head, memories he thought he'd laid to rest long ago, but here they were battling for precedence, tearing at him again.
Hercules had gone with Erythia on an errand to the other side of town, they would be back soon and Iolaus didn't want either of them to see him like this, raw emotion was too near the surface for him to control it. Pandion knew so much and so little; did he deserve to know the truth? Iolaus knew that he did, he could see in every word the poet had written how much he loved Erythia. Iolaus didn't need to be told to understand why his stepfather felt this urge to discover the hidden truth about his wife's past.
Sighing he looked up at Pandion, "You have questions." It was a statement and Pandion knew he didn't need to respond, "Sit with me and ask them. I'll try to answer as best as I'm able."
Pandion sat on the bench next to Iolaus and for a brief moment they sat in silence watching the sun as it began its final descent into darkness. The poet looked at his companion and tried to formulate the words.
"I have so many questions Iolaus, but they all add up to the same thing. The same reason for my writing. I'm a poet, not a hero. I have a wife that I love and for that I call myself lucky. But she has a sadness in her, and it tears at me. I know that you're part of this sadness so I thought that if I discovered who you were it would show me how to help her. All I've discovered has shown me that she should be proud of the man you have become but ... but there's still that reticence in you. Why did you turn away from her for so long?"
Iolaus leaned back against the wall of the house and let his thoughts drift back. It was something he rarely did; looking back was for fools, looking back could get you killed. But Pandion deserved an answer, his mother deserved his help; she was living in the past too much, she needed to be brought to the present.
"My father was a bully. He didn't understand love or allow emotions to affect anything that he did. I can feel sorry for him now. He's so ... pathetic really I suppose. He had all the things I wish for, a wife that loved him, a family, but it didn't make him happy. He was always disappointed in us - not just in me but in mother too, and the girls. We could never meet his expectations however hard we tried. Maybe we tried too hard, maybe we were all too desperate for his approval."
Iolaus tore himself from his memories and looked at Pandion, "He was never that violent you know. He hit me sometimes but ..." he laughed at the memory, "I was a very difficult child. Any father would have given me a thrashing at some point. And, yeah, I was impetuous, and I didn't always do as he asked. I don't know Pandion, was he a bad father? Yeah he was I suppose, he never knew how to love us. Was he a bad person? I don't think so. Maybe I don't want to believe it, but I saw him afterwards and he wasn't so awful. Hades thought he was all right anyway, he allowed him into the Elysian Fields."
Pandion would have asked what Iolaus meant by that, but he could tell that if he interrupted the spell would be broken and he may never get another chance. He held his silence and waited for Iolaus to continue.
"Hercules never really understood. How could he, his mother was an angel. She was the warmest, kindest, most loving person I've ever known. And his father; Zeus was an absent father all the time. Mine was absent only most of the time. There was a world of difference in that. Herc didn't ever understand my need to impress my father, he had Alcmene. She always made him feel like a hero."
Iolaus stole a glance at his companion who remained silent, "I'm not saying Erythia didn't love me, or that she neglected me or anything. She didn't. It was just that ... she wanted so much to have her husband's love, his approval. And he didn't approve of me. I don't know ... I was just a kid. I couldn't see how it was for her. I always knew she loved me ... but ..." Iolaus hung his head, he really didn't want to say this. He'd never said this to anyone before. But he knew that Pandion before all other mortals, deserved this truth, and as someone who had once been a Guardian of the Light Iolaus knew that this wasn't just for Pandion or for his mother, it was Iolaus that needed this, he needed to say what he'd held so close to his heart for so long. Secrets were poison, and this one had long been at work in him.
"She loved me, but she never made me feel like I was special, she never made me feel like I could be special. Alcmene did, after I started getting into trouble it seemed like my mother was just disappointed in me, Alcmene ... I don't know ... supported me. Don't get me wrong Pandion. Erythia's my mother and I love her and I understand why she couldn't give me what I needed. I know that in the end it was me that let her down, not the other way around. But ... I felt ... I don't know ... like Skouros was right, I was a runt, I'd never amount to anything. So why not do something I was good at, something people admired me for." Iolaus snorted in disgust at his former self.
"I turned to the ones that everyone else knew as just thieves and vagabonds. All I could see was their approval. I couldn't see the truth back then. I needed validation and I got it anyplace I could."
Iolaus stood up and stretched his back, he'd been sitting for a long time. Turning he stood in front of Pandion who was still silently watching him, trying to digest all that he'd heard.
"Look, Pandion. It's not that big a deal OK? I was a tearaway kid, probably nobody could have kept me in check, probably nobody could have stopped me from leaving like I did. I'm not proud of that. And that's probably why it took me so long to try and make it right ... but you can't change the past."
Iolaus stopped speaking, he'd spotted Hercules and his mother being pulled home by the old horse, Arion, in the even older cart that must surely fall apart if it hit just one more pot hole. "That's it, poet father, you've had my grizzly life story, I hope it gave you what you needed." and with that parting remark Iolaus turned to meet his friend and his mother. Pandion watched as his stepson physically shook off the mood that had overtaken him as he talked, and by the time Iolaus had met the cart and taken hold of the horse's head he was his usual bubbly self, with no sign of the pain he had just allowed Pandion to see. Pandion shook his head in bemusement, how did he do that?
Iolaus and Hercules stayed for nearly a week and they enjoyed their visit, so did Erythia and Pandion. There was much laughter, but nobody spoke of Dahak or The Light; nobody mentioned death. And Pandion's scrolls lay forgotten amongst the other scrolls he was working on. Neither he nor Iolaus mentioned their conversation again.
After five days of good food and good company and five days of chores - Iolaus working twice as hard as he ever had to in an attempt to make up for all the years he'd been building walls for Alcmene instead of his own mother - they decided it was time to leave. With the gift of food and promises exchanged to keep in touch the two heroes left the small home to return to their life on the road. Erythia watched from the doorway until they were out of sight and she could no longer hear their cheerful banter. The smile on her face was a sad one though, and she sighed as she turned back into the house.
Part Three
Erythia's side of the story
It was several weeks later and Pandion sat hunched over the table, scratching away at his work. It was late and he worked by the light of a candle, his supper lay forgotten on a tray next to him, a mug of ale untouched.
"Pandion? Pandion. You should be in bed my husband. Burning the candle to its end every night cannot be good for you. What is it that has you working so hard?"
Pandion looked up at his wife and read the concern in her eyes, but he couldn't tell her that she was what drove him to work so late every night, writing and re-writing his story. Trying to get Iolaus' words onto the page truthfully, trying to find a way into his wife's memories. He smiled weakly and said, "You know what it's like with a poet my dear. Once he gets an idea in his head it won't let him go. The Muses push us hard sometimes."
He whispered a prayer under his breath so that none of the Muses would take offence at his comment, and then snuffed the candle with his fingers. He would return to the work in the light of day, it was harder to see truth in candlelight.
The next day the words came slowly to the poet as he sat at his table, so he decided to go for a walk to see if he could find an answer without looking. Sometimes that was the only way to see what stared you in the face. He kissed his wife and told her that he would be back in a couple of hours or so.
Erythia knew her husband, she knew that his two hours would most likely turn into the whole day and he'd come home sometime after sundown confused and amazed that the sun had left the sky so fast. She smiled to herself, he was as different to Skouros as day was to night. Skouros had always run to a very tight schedule. She'd been thinking a lot about her late husband recently and she didn't know why. Perhaps it had been that visit by Iolaus and his friend. Her tearaway son, his leaving her had been what had broken her heart in the end. She could survive losing a husband but losing her son too, that had been too much to bear.
Erythia had decided to clear out the house and give it a good airing. It was beginning to smell musty and today was a lovely warm day. She looked at the table her husband had been working at, there were scrolls everywhere. Some had even managed to find their way onto the floor, she bent to pick them up and froze.
On the scroll in her hand she saw her son's name, and just below it her own name. What was her husband doing? What right did he have? Erythia felt anger bubbling up inside her; nobody had the right to go digging about in her past, not even Pandion. She'd told him what she wanted him to know, that should have been enough. Attempting to calm herself she sat down in her husband's chair and started really looking at the scrolls in front of her for the first time. Before his scrolls had just been his work, of no concern to her until they were finished. Then, sometimes he would read his poetry to her and sometimes she would read it while he went for a walk unable to watch her reaction to his words. This time she had to know what he'd been saying, what he'd been digging up. She put the scrolls into some kind of order and began to read.
She didn't notice the change in the quality of light, she didn't notice that noon had long passed and she hadn't eaten yet, she just read. Sometimes there were tears on her cheeks, sometimes anger in her eyes, but when she finally put the last scroll down she was calm. "I don't deserve your love my husband, I really don't." she whispered as she looked down at the papers scattered over the desk. Gathering them up into her arms she took them to the fireplace; they would have to burn.
Pandion had walked a long way, trying to keep his mind blank, trying to enjoy the birdsong and the sunlight. It hadn't been a very successful walk, he felt no closer now to finding a way to continue his work, and he knew that Erythia would probably not approve of what he was doing. He only hoped that she would understand. He realised as he walked back along the sloping track home that he would have to speak to her, the only piece left out of the puzzle was Erythia's story, and after all wasn't that what this whole project had been about?
He was trying to find the words he would use as he walked back into the house and it was a moment before he realised what his wife was about to do. The table that had been covered with his scrolls when he had left was now bare; Erythia stood in front of the fireplace looking down at what lay within. Scrolls - his scrolls, and she was about to set them alight. Crying out, he ran to place himself between his wife and his precious work. "Please, no! Please Erythia. Let me explain."
Erythia stood looking at her husband, feeling a complicated mixture of emotions; exasperation, anger, love, pride. Finally she stood back from the fireplace, "I shouldn't let you get away with this Pandion. You had no right."
He gently took her elbow and guided her to the table. Part of Pandion agreed with his wife, part of him thought that he had no right at all, but he had come this far and it wouldn't be for nothing. He sat at the head of the table and watched the scrolls carefully, it bothered him to see them lying defenceless in the ashes. He had a vision of them setting alight by themselves and him trying to pull the scorched parchments from the flames. The absurdity of the situation hit him and he laughed. Erythia frowned at her husband, but following his gaze she smiled and softened, "Go pick up your fictions Pandion, make them safe. Then I suppose you'll want to talk."
Pandion followed his wife's instructions, and when he was done he sat at the table with the scrolls in front of him, as if they were a shield. He raised his eyes to meet hers,
"All right, I'll admit it. I should have told you what I was doing. You had that right. It's just ... I ... I could see how much pain you felt - hid, and I wanted to ease it for you." Pandion sighed, for a poet this should be easy but it wasn't. "I love you Erythia, I saw what it did to you. I could see how much your love and your pride were hurting you. I just wanted to help. Is that so wrong? Is my love so wrong?"
Erythia's smile was full of sadness, "No, my husband. It isn't ever wrong to love. But you should have spoken to me before now. You talked to Hercules! You talked to the villagers! You showed Iolaus your words, but you couldn't talk to me. That was wrong but I understand. You want my story now don't you. All the things I never spoke of before." It wasn't a question.
"All right. Then I'll tell you. Iolaus wasn't an easy child, you have to know that. He may have turned out well, he may be a hero now - but he was so frustrating." Erythia gave a lopsided grin, if Hercules had been there he would have seen Iolaus in that grin but Pandion didn't recognise the similarity.
"He was impossible. He'd do what I asked and then a moment later he'd be in trouble with one of the shopkeepers, he'd have stolen something or made fun or ..." she shrugged as if to say anything had been possible with the young Iolaus. "I couldn't make him see it was wrong, and his father ... well, his father was rarely there. You say Iolaus felt as if he were a disappointment to me - I never meant that ... but I suppose he was in a way. I had always thought that my son would make me proud. I had always thought that he would follow his father's path. At the time he was a disappointment and, may the Gods forgive me, I let him see that disappointment. Skouros ended up disgusted with him, I've wondered if that's why Skouros never came home that last time. Perhaps he stayed away, at war, because he had nothing to bring him home. No wife to care for, no son to follow his path."
Erythia stopped speaking and Pandion knew better than to say anything, he had learned to be a good listener. For a long time she looked down at her hands, intertwined on the table, and was full of her memories, but eventually she shook herself free and seemed to remember where she was and who she was with,
"I blamed myself. I thought it was me that had done something wrong. Perhaps I had; maybe I did fail my husband, maybe I did fail my son - but I did all that I knew how! I was the only kind of mother I could be!"
Taking a deep, shuddering breath Erythia continued, "Iolaus was a bright boy, full of life and curiosity - much like Hercules describes him being as a grown man. I loved him, I wanted my husband to love him too, but he could only judge by his strategies. He judged a boy by the laws of war! Can you imagine what that was like?"
Pandion shook his head but remained silent.
"I was young, I wanted my husband to love me. I was too young to understand that he couldn't. He called Iolaus 'boy', did you know that? He couldn't bring himself to use his son's name. I suppose that would have meant approval to the soldier in him, and he didn't approve. Do you see?"
And to Pandion's horror he could see. He could see very clearly; the small boy with the tousled blond hair, so willing, so painfully willing. The General father, so cold, so distant. The boy never able to please the father, all he wanted was approval and all he got was rude dismissal. And his mother, what part had she played? Pandion feared that she had been unable to show approval either; he feared that his wife had wanted her husband's approval for herself and so part of her had rejected Iolaus too - unconsciously perhaps, but it had been rejection all the same.
As if to confirm Pandion's unspoken thoughts Erythia hung her head, he could see tears sliding their way down her face as she continued, "I loved him. I loved him so much. But it wasn't enough - it's never enough! Skouros left for the battlefield, he never came home. Iolaus left for ... I don't know what. A life of adventure? A life away from the bad memories of his youth? He came home. He finally came home. Was it too late Pandion? Can we ever be what we should be?"
"Yes Erythia, we can. It's never too late." Pandion paused then, he had one question left, something that had bothered him from the first and he was scared to ask, scared of the answer. But he was no coward and so he took a deep breath and asked his question, "What about Alcmene, did she ever speak to you about Iolaus?"
Erythia gave a small laugh and smiled at her husband, part of her felt such pride. "You know how to get to the centre of things don't you my husband? Yes, Alcmene spoke to me. She was concerned for her son's friend. It was after Skouros left for the last time - only we didn't know it then - and she came to visit, just like women do when their sons are best friends. But ... she had things on her mind and she wasn't one to hold back on how she felt. She told me that she was worried about Iolaus, she told me that she thought he was getting into trouble and needed my help. She ... she said ... she said that she loved him like a son and that she only wanted what was best for him. But I hated her for it. I was jealous of her closeness to my son. My son! What right did she have?
"Every right - I know that now. But back then, I couldn't see that she only spoke out of love. I felt a rage in me, such rage. I suppose I spoke out of turn, but she was the thing that finally broke the dam. I had never realised how much anger I had stored up inside. Anger at Skouros mainly, but also anger at Iolaus, my only son. He had let me down and I couldn't see any further than that.
"I wasn't a very good mother just then Pandion, he wasn't a good son. What do we do to fix that now? How can we overcome those failures?"
Pandion looked at his wife and was grateful to the Gods or the Muses or whoever it was that had given him this chance at love. She had made mistakes but she recognised them and she felt them. She loved with such intensity that it took his breath, and she could never understand how proud he was of her, or of her only son - the 'boy' Iolaus, who had proved to be more of a hero than Skouros could ever have imagined being.
"We overcome our failures with our love, my dear. Iolaus knows that you love him, you know that Iolaus loves you, all else pales into insignificance. We overcome by building new memories, we overcome by having good visits now and next year and the year after. He loves you, Erythia, he's a good man, he can be a good son if you let him. Will you let him?"
Erythia nodded, her throat too full of emotion to speak. She loved her son, sons were special things. She loved her daughters too, but Iolaus? Iolaus was different, Iolaus was her son, she loved him and she was proud of him.
Part four
Laying the past to rest
Several weeks later Hercules and Iolaus found themselves once again in the vicinity of their hometown. This time it was Iolaus who suggested that maybe they had time for a quick visit with his mother and her husband. Hercules agreed, his own family was gone from him and he missed that part of his life with an intensity that frightened him. A small part of him wondered if Iolaus knew that, knew and let him share his family as Hercules had shared Alcmene with his friend.
Iolaus was cheerful as they walked the final few miles before arriving at Erythia's home. He was full of jokes and song - just as always - but Hercules knew there was something on his friend's mind. He always knew.
"What's the matter Iolaus? What's bothering you?"
Iolaus shrugged as if to say nothing, but seeing his companion's doubting expression he sighed, "OK Herc, you got me. It's those scrolls of Pandion's. I was just wondering if my mother has seen them yet."
Hercules frowned, he hadn't read the scrolls himself but Iolaus had told him about them. Erythia would have a tough time with them he was sure. "I don't know Iolaus, but I do know that she loves you and she's proud of you, and she's going to be happy to see you! Don't worry about anything else, don't ruin the visit."
Iolaus grinned up at his buddy, knowing that he was right - as always - and skipped on ahead.
Erythia was thrilled to see her son again so soon, she went to work cooking up a meal big enough to satisfy even his huge appetite. While she was cooking Pandion sat with the two friends just outside the front door, watching the world go by. Finally it was Hercules that broke the contented silence,
"Did you ever finish your scrolls Pandion?"
The poet grinned and nodded, "Yes I did, everything but the conclusion. And I'm glad you're both here now, Erythia only finished reading all of it yesterday and she hasn't told me yet what she thinks. I'd like both of you to read it and then we can all talk."
Hercules and Iolaus exchanged a glance and then nodded in unison. "You read it first Iolaus, I'll take a look when you're done." Somehow sensing Pandion's nerves the demigod suggested that he show Hercules the repairs that had been recently completed on the storm damaged bridge. Pandion readily agreed and after giving Iolaus the scrolls to read they left him alone.
Hercules looked at the bridge in approval, the men had done good work with their repairs and improvements. It would not fall so easily as the previous one. Pandion shuffled from foot to foot restlessly and Hercules laughed,
"Is it that difficult for you to have someone read your work?"
Pandion snorted a laugh, "Yes it is. Doubly so when it's my family I'm writing about and now it's my family reading it."
"I'm honoured that you want me to read it."
"Don't be silly Hercules, to Iolaus you're family - that makes you family to me too. You're more a part of that story than I am. You know Iolaus better than his mother does." Pandion waved off Hercules' attempt to disagree, "It's true. She loves him, he loves her, but they haven't seen much of each other over the years and they don't really know each other yet. That will come though, I'm sure it will."
Hercules sighed, "They've both had a lot of ghosts to lay to rest. I'm so glad you took on this project, I've always known that Iolaus felt guilty about not being a better son to Erythia. I've never been able to get him to talk about it though. He's not one for raking over old coals."
"Hah, neither's Erythia. I think that Iolaus takes after his mother far more than his father."
"He's got a pretty spunky grandmother too!"
Pandion raised an enquiring eyebrow and Hercules spent the time it took them to walk back to the house telling the story of how Iolaus had met Leandra. When they arrived Iolaus had already finished reading and was laying the table for his mother. He grinned up at the two men as they walked into the house, "Your turn Herc. Mother says we've got enough time for you to read the scrolls before we eat. Come on Pandion, I noticed some wood out back that needs splitting. Have you got an axe?" Iolaus skilfully herded the older man away from Hercules who smiled ruefully as he sat by the table and picked up the first scroll to read.
Pandion was distracted throughout their meal, and even though Erythia had done them proud with the huge spread laid out on the table he could do little more than re-arrange the food on his plate. The scrolls weren't mentioned while they were still eating but as soon as the dinner things had been cleared Erythia was the first to broach the subject.
"We'll put you out of your misery now dear husband. You've been beside yourself ever since I read your words yesterday, and now that Iolaus and Hercules are here it's even worse. You want to know what we think, well I can tell you what I think. You write well Pandion, your words are filled with the light and the truth you always seek. There are things that you say, things that part of me wishes could stay buried." She took a deep breath and reached across the table to grasp her son's hand, "But you did this for us, for me and for Iolaus, and I love you all the more for it."
Erythia gripped Iolaus' hand even more tightly and looked deep into his eyes, "My son, my wayward, errant, troublesome son. I love you Iolaus, and I'm so proud of the man you have become. I'm sorry if I didn't give you the support you needed, I'm sorry .."
"No. Please Mother. It's all right, really."
"No Iolaus, let me say it ... I'm sorry that I couldn't see your pain. I know how sorry you are, I know that you love me and don't want to let me take any of the blame. But I was there too Iolaus, it wasn't just Skouros, it was also me. I'm sorry." Erythia's voice had dropped to a whisper and with those final words she let go of Iolaus' hand.
Iolaus had tears in his eyes as he replied, "Pandion made me see it all so differently. You don't see how things affect other people when your world isn't working right. I knew you weren't happy with Skouros, I knew I was a disappointment, but I was too young and stupid to understand how much I was hurting you. I convinced myself that you didn't really care, that it didn't matter. I'm sorry Mother, I'm so sorry." And then as always with Iolaus even in the most serious moments he could be relied upon to lighten the mood, with an impish lopsided grin he batted his eyes at his mother and said, "Forgive me?"
Erythia laughed and nodded, sniffing back her own tears. "We've got a lot of catching up to do Iolaus, and your friend too. You spent so much time with him when you were children but you could never bring him home, were you ashamed of me?"
Iolaus looked at his mother horrified, his eyes flew between her and Hercules and finally he shook his head, "I ... I ... help me Herc! Ashamed?" Iolaus thought about his answer for a long moment, "Yes I suppose I was. Of you? No! Never! I just thought that ... oh Gods Mother I was a stupid kid remember - I didn't think at all. I suppose I was always worried that Skouros would come home and start in on me and I didn't want Hercules seeing that - and then of course there was always Alcmene's cooking to take into account. I was a growing boy I needed lots of feeding up! Not that your cooking wasn't good ... I just ... well, I liked to eat!"
Iolaus was desperate to lighten the mood, take away all this high emotion. He didn't like his feelings to be so out in the open even though he knew it was the only way forward. Hercules could tell his friend's discomfort and knew it was time to come to the rescue. Laughing, the demigod patted his full stomach,
"Well Erythia did herself proud today Iolaus. There's no chance of you starving here!"
The tension was broken and the rest of the evening was spent telling tall tales of the adventures of Hercules and Iolaus, demigod and mortal. Heroes both.
Iolaus had slept poorly, his dreams filled with the voice of Skouros, "Boy, you're a disgrace to my name! You'll never amount to anything Boy." So when some light finally started creeping into his room the troubled hunter pulled on his clothes and went downstairs. He had not expected to find anyone else about, but Pandion was already sitting at the table with a quill poised over a scroll. His candle was guttering and Iolaus deftly trimmed it before it could go out altogether. Pandion didn't stir. "Hey, Pandion. Have you been here all night?"
Pandion started and the quill scratched a hole in the parchment.
"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to make you jump."
Pandion smiled and flattened out the scroll to see how bad the damage was - it was only a small tear and could easily be fixed, and he sighed in relief. "It's OK Iolaus. I was just trying to find the perfect ending to my scrolls."
Iolaus sat down on the chair opposite his stepfather, "I didn't think there was such a thing as a perfect ending. Only the beginning can be perfect, after that we do what we can."
Pandion gave his companion a considering look, "Is that Iolaus of Thebes talking, or is that a Guardian of the Light talking?"
"It's me Pandion, with all I've seen and heard and felt. It's just me. Iolaus of Thebes, partner to Hercules, sometime Guardian of the Light. I do know something though, there's no such thing as a perfect ending but you can have a happy one. At least I believe in happy endings. Don't you?"
Pandion nodded, liking the idea. Perfection could become boring and happiness was far more important. Was this a happy ending? Pandion smiled, he thought that perhaps it was. "We live with our past Iolaus, but we can still be happy. I'm glad you're a part of my family, I'm proud to be a part of yours. Help me finish this scroll?"
Iolaus did a double take, and laughing as he answered said, "Me? Help you write? I'm not much good at that sort of thing."
Pandion gave a low chuckle, "You might just be surprised Iolaus, I think the Muses have always looked at you with a special love. You spend your life finding ways to honour them, you sing, you dance, you show your lust for life in so many ways that the Muses approve and encourage. I honour them in my way, you in yours. Lets do this one thing together."
"Well, all right. But you do the writing, or nobody'll ever be able to read it."
Pandion picked up his quill and wrote ...
In this world no love is perfect, just as no ending can be perfect. I am not able to finish my tale with a simple 'they lived happily ever after' because I don't know if that will happen. I cannot tell you whether Erythia and Iolaus have finally laid their past to rest either, but I can tell you that they love each other.
Love is the light that guides us and the music that soothes us, but love by itself is rarely enough; it needs truth to give it power, trust to give it strength, light to give it hope. These things are hard to find, the Gods make us work for them and most of us never understand the tests we have been set. Iolaus and Erythia have come to understand. They have the truth now, and the trust in each other that was missing before, there is light in their lives now.
No ending is perfect, those are Iolaus' words. But that is not a bad thing, because happiness is not perfect either. I started out trying to find a way to help my wife find peace with her memories and with her son, I believe that has happened. I am content, the end of this scroll is a happy one, it isn't perfect, I am sure that none of us will live in perfect happiness forever more, but we will live happy in the knowledge of our love for each other and the strength that gives us, whatever trials lay in our futures.
And so this, my personal account of Erythia, Skouros, and their son Iolaus has come to an end. Erythia and Iolaus still have their lives to live, I wish them happiness and love. Iolaus will visit us often, his friend Hercules will too, there will be many evenings filled with laughter in this house. My wife and my son finally have the family they deserve.
The End
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