Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert thy not born in my father's dwelling?
-- Charles Lamb, The Old Familiar Faces
The city of Corinth shone in the morning sun like a flawless white pearl set in the heart of lush emerald countryside and embraced by a sapphire sea. It was a spectacular view, made all the more breathtaking by the rainbow of banners which floated from the city walls to herald the start of the week-long Harvest Festival.
Reaching the summit of a neighboring hill, Hercules was content to pause and revel in the view before him. Not only was the city beautiful to behold, but the gods couldn't have provided a more perfect day for a festival. Apollo's chariot rode high and shone brightly in a sky of perfect, cloudless blue. The weather was warm and a late summer breeze carried a pleasing mix of sea salt and freshly cut hay from the valley below.
If only the sound that accompanied the picture was equally as idyllic. Instead of sweet birdsong, the crisp morning air was filled a lusty tenor singing at the very top of his voice.
"...Like the men of Thrace or Phrygia..."
"Iolaus?"
"...She could get her wine down, at a go..."
"Iolaus."
"...Without taking a breath..."
"IOLAUS!"
The singer fell silent in mid-stanza and blinked at his traveling companion with guileless blue eyes. "Yeah, Herc?"
"Don't you know any other songs?"
"A few. Why? Got a request?"
"How about the sound of silence?"
Iolaus appeared to give this very serious consideration before he shrugged. "Nope. Don't know it. Sorry."
"Obviously," Before his friend could utter a protest, Hercules elbowed him gently in the ribs and gestured to the valley below. The view did the rest.
Iolaus gave a low whistle of appreciation. "They've really gone all out this year, haven't they?"
"It isn't every Festival that boasts the arrival of a royal heir," replied Hercules as they began to leisurely wend their way down the grassy hillside toward the main road and the city beyond.
"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?"
"A boy."
"You sound very sure of yourself."
"That's because I am."
"But, how could you --" Iolaus suddenly threw up a hand as if to physically cut off his own words. "No, don't tell me. Let me guess. You --"
"-- have my sources," laughed Hercules. "And it's definitely a boy."
"Does Rena know about your inside information?"
"I offered to tell her, but she'd rather be surprised."
"Really? I'd've thought she'd want to know ahead of time, so she can decide whether the baby swaddling should be blue or pink."
"What's the difference?"
"Well, you know. Blue for a boy. Pink for a girl."
"Why blue for a boy? Why not purple? Or gold? And why not silver for a girl?" Hercules shook his head and looked at his friend with open amusement. "You know, sometimes I wonder where you get these ideas of yours."
"It's not my idea," protested Iolaus, flustered. "Its ... its ... oh, never mind. It's not worth the argument." He shifted his sword sheath to his left hand and readjusted the strap of his travel pack a little higher on his right shoulder. "Uncle Herk," he mused aloud. "It's got a kind of nice ring to it, don't you think?"
"This isn't my first nephew."
"No, but it's your first mortal nephew -- and a royal heir at that!" Iolaus' blue eyes twinkled. "Presumably this nephew isn't likely to change into a raging green-eyed monster and try to rip your head off," he concluded, referring to Hercules' recent encounter with his immortal nephew Cupid and the youth's jealous rage over the beautiful mortal maiden Psyche.
"Good point," Hercules conceded good naturedly.
They walked in companionable silence for a little further before Iolaus couldn't stand it any longer and once more broke into song. The tune was a little less bawdy this time, possibly in deference to the travelers on the main road as they joined the colorful tide of humanity making its way toward the city gates, but it was just as boisterous. Fortunately, everyone was in a festive mood and no one seemed to mind.
Hercules chuckled to himself at his friend's exuberance. If there was one thing Iolaus loved more than a good fight, it was a festival -- especially a festival that promised a bevy of beautiful women eager to be enchanted by tales of terrible monsters, damsels in distress, and heroic deeds. Women who, once enchanted, would presumably find themselves in a position to succor said hero with their affections. It seemed Iolaus had a beautiful woman awaiting him in every village they revisited, and new ones eager to join the list in each new province.
Sadly, the underlying truth to Iolaus' dalliances with so many ladies was that they were all passing fancies. There were precious few women who had managed to capture his brash friend's heart beyond mere physical attraction, and of them only two had ever managed to touch his soul. Iolaus' rarely spoke of his young wife, Ania, who had died in child birth so many years ago; and of Xena ... well, at least now they shared an uneasy friendship where once passionate love had soured into a hatred born of betrayal.
Since Xena, there had been many women but no lasting relationships.
But perhaps one had already begun? There was always Gabrielle, Xena's traveling companion, to consider. Now that Hercules thought back on it, there had been an almost tangible longing in the way Iolaus had looked at the gentle, pure-hearted young bard as they parted company so many months ago. True, it could have been a passing infatuation for a beautiful woman -- especially a woman who had helped nurse him back to health -- but Hercules sensed there might be something deeper at work. Was it Gabrielle's temperament that echoed of Ania's own sweet disposition that spoke to Iolaus' heart, or something more? He hoped his friend would have another chance to explore the possibilities.
They'd certainly make beautiful babies, thought Hercules, and smiled to himself. Beautiful blonde, blue eyed babies. I just hope Gabrielle has a better singing voice.
"What're you grinning at?" asked Iolaus suspiciously.
Hercules offered his friend an innocent, wide-eyed 'who, me?' expression. "Not a thing. Why do you ask?"
"Because you have that look on your face," his friend accused.
"What look?"
"That 'I've got something up my sleeve' look."
"Not possible," replied Hercules with a dismissive wave of his hand and suppressing a smile. "I don't have sleeves."
King Iphicles of Corinth and Flavia, son of the warrior general Amphitryon and the beautiful Alcmene, and chosen successor of the hero Jason, leader of the Argonauts, sat upon his gilded throne, chin on fist, and starred into space. He was a ruggedly handsome man with dark, shoulder-length brown hair and eyes the color of storm clouds. Tall in stature, he had strong, broad shoulders and a warrior's build that seemed a bit out of place in the flowing gold and blue robes of kingship.
Standing at the foot of the dais, an armful of parchment and scrolls cradled in his arms, Zephious finally realized that his words were falling on deaf ears.
"You haven't heard a single word I've said," he accused, the expression on his narrow, sharp-featured face looking for all the world like that of a weasel that had just eaten a sour grape.
Iphicles turned a dark gaze on his Chamberlain and said simply, "I'm not in the mood, Zephious."
"Begging his majesty's pardon," replied Zephious in a tone that begged absolutely nothing of the sort, "I realize this is difficult a time for you, but I really do need your full attention to these details."
"I said not now."
"If not now, when? The ceremony is tomorrow!"
"Why can't you handle it?" Iphicles slammed his fist on the gilded arm of the throne, causing Zephious to jump back a step. "What's so hard about coordinating a ceremony? It's why I have a Chamberlain, isn't it?"
"Yes, Sire, it is," he bristled, "But there are certain fine points to the ceremony that must be approved by the King before --"
"Then I approve."
"Sire?"
"I said I approve! That's what you want to hear, isn't it?" snapped the King. "Do whatever you like. Just take it out of my throne room and stop bothering me with trivialities!"
"As you wish. Sire." The Chamberlain clutched his scrolls to his chest as he executed a curt bow before the throne then turned crisply on his heels and stiffly marched out of the chamber.
That was badly done, Iphicles thought. Damn it, what's wrong with me? I'm as edgy as a bull in a pottery shop!
As if summoned, slender, soothing fingers reached up over his broad shoulders and began to gently kneed the tense muscles of his neck and back. Iphicles turned and caught the hands, bringing them to his lips. The smile his wife offered him in return was warm sunlight on his dark mood. He drew her close for a more passionate kiss -- or as close as could be managed in an embrace made awkward by Rena's swollen belly.
"You should be resting." Iphicles guided her to the smaller, yet no less ornate, throne that shared the dais with his own and gently helped her onto the cushioned seat. "You saw that little scene, I trust?" he asked like a boy expecting to be scolded.
Rena nodded but did not chastise him. He was doing well enough on his own. "Zephious means well," she said simply.
"I know, I know." He sighed. "I don't understand what's wrong with me! I shouldn't --"
His words were silenced by his wife's gentle fingers across his lips. "What you should do is relax," she said sagely, and smiled. "I'm the one having the baby, remember?"
"Sire!"
Iphicles turned as Marselas, captain of the royal guards and Corinth's chief military advisor, strode into the chamber and approached the royal dais. He was a battle-hardened veteran of many wars with the gray hair and scars across arms and chest to prove witness to his experience. In a very real sense, Iphicles inherited both Zephious and Marselas as advisors when the kingship was given over into his keeping, but only Marselas had become more than a counselor; he had become a trusted friend.
Marselas gave a quick perfunctory bow to his sovereigns, a formality that denoted this was no social visit. "Please forgive the interruption," he apologized with solemn regret, "but there is a matter that needs your attention."
The grim urgency in his friend's tone was unusual and alarming.
"What's wrong, Marselas?" asked Rena as she struggled to sit forward. "What has happened?"
"Ruffians, my Queen. I feel they may pose a serious threat to the Festival."
"Why say you so? What have they done?"
"They have presented themselves at no less than four of the city's taverns and instigated brawls in each. The property damage in the taverns alone has been devastating, not to mention the casualties among the customers. We've needed no less than six wagons to cart the injured to the nearest healer. Then there's the women..."
"The women? What women?" demanded Iphicles.
"It seems they have also managed to exert an almost magical power over the most beautiful young women in the city. It's an astonishing sight, my Lord. The ladies are leaving their husbands and lovers by the droves and flocking to these two ruffians like sailors to a siren's call." Marselas' expression was stern but there was something about his eyes that began to give lie to his words. "I'm afraid the citizenry is calling for their blood, so I brought them here to answer for themselves. Shall I bring them forth?"
"By all means," nodded Rena as she began to catch wind of the game. "Let us see these 'ruffians' of yours. I should like to see what manner of men can so enthrall the ladies of Corinth."
Marselas turned and signaled to the guard at the door. A moment later, the prisoners were escorted into the chamber by four heavily armed soldiers and brought before the King.
The prisoners were as different in appearance as night and day. The taller of the two was a handsome man with shoulder length light brown hair and dark blue eyes. He wore britches, heavy silver and black gauntlets, and a cream colored leather vest open to the waist to reveal a broad, muscular chest. Although he carried no weapons, there wasn't a soul present who couldn't sense the sheer strength that emanated from the man's entire being.
The second prisoner stood a full head shorter than his companion and was more lightly built. An attractive man with honest, open features, he had an unruly mane of hair the color of sunlight and eyes as blue as a summer sky. He wore britches, plain leather gauntlets and vest armor, and resting comfortably against his left hip was a sword in a battered sheath.
"Look sharp men, and keep a close eye on the little guy," warned Marselas. "He looks pretty shifty to me."
The "little guy" looked at the Captain with a wounded expression. Marselas almost laughed out loud. He knew from experience how deceiving both size and appearance could be. There was a warrior's heart and a wiry strength compacted into that short frame capable of astonishing speed and fighting skill.
"I hear you've been causing havoc in my kingdom," said Iphicles as he descended the dais to confront the prisoners. "You may be used to that sort of thing in Thebes, but it will not be tolerated in Corinth!"
The King stood face to face with the taller prisoner. They were of equal height and coloring, and so similar in appearance as to be mistaken as brothers. As well they should.
"A fine welcome," huffed the prisoner. "Only four guards? That's not even a challenge. I think I've been insulted." A broad grin suddenly brightened Hercules' features as he extended an open hand to his mortal half-brother. "Hello, Iphicles."
There once was a time when Iphicles would have shunned the gesture. Now, without hesitation, he clasped Hercules' wrist in a warm, sincere greeting. "Welcome to Corinth."
Iolaus watched the family reunion with relief. He had secretly wondered how Hercules' meeting with his previously estranged brother would fare now that Iphicles was a king, and was delighted to see that his concern was for naught.
Iphicles next offered his hand to Hercules' companion. "Iolaus! It's good to see you. Welcome."
"Thank you, your majesty."
Marselas dismissed the grinning escort guards with a wave and joined the royal party.
"Like sailors answering a siren's call?" demanded Iolaus, echoing the Captain's words in a fair approximation of the soldier's voice. "Overdramatized that a bit, didn't you, Marselas?"
"Well, I always did fancy myself a thespian," laughed the Captain as he clasped Iolaus' wrist in welcome.
"Have Mother and Jason arrived yet?" asked Hercules.
"Not yet. I don't expect them until mid-Festival. Oh, nothing to worry about," hastened Iphicles when his brother's expression became one of concern. "They'll be here in plenty of time to greet the baby."
"Speaking of which," said a pleasantly musical voice. Rena smiled sweetly as all eyes turned to the throne. "Don't I get a hello?"
She moved as if to stand. The instant she did, both Iphicles and Hercules were bounding up the dais steps to assist her.
"Such gallantry!" she laughed as the brothers each took gentle custody of her hands and helped her to her feet. Rena squeezed her brother-in-law's hand. "Hello, Hercules."
Hercules bent down to kiss her on the cheek. "You look ... radiant!"
"Thank you," she blushed. "I have to admit I don't feel radiant! Ohh!" Rena's hands drifted to her belly. "Another kick. I think he's getting impatient to greet the world."
"You should be in bed!" protested Iphicles anxiously.
"Stop worrying! I'm fine. Really," she assured her husband, then to Hercules. "Have you eaten?"
"Actually, no, we haven't. But we don't want to imp--"
"Not another word," said Rena. "You and Iolaus will join us for lunch."
"I wouldn't argue with her, Hercules," warned Iphicles when it looked as if his brother was about to politely decline. "This is one battle you're not likely to win. She always gets her way."
Rena laughed. "Well, almost always."
Secreted deep below the city walls was a tunnel hewn from the rock by the blood and sweat of slaves long dead. Of the few who knew of its existence, none could say why it had been built or who had ordered its execution. Although there were secret entries into the passage throughout Corinth and even within the castle itself, it was not intended as an escape route for it had no outlet into the world. Like a serpent devouring its own tail, the labyrinth began and ended in a cavern far beneath the sea floor.
The cavern was huge, with a vaulted ceiling so high as to be lost in shadow. Jagged rock formations jutted from roof and floor, giving the illusion that one was walking from the passage into the maw of some demon >from Hades.
At the very heart of the grotto towered a monolithic black stone shaped into the fanned tail of a peacock, each feather exquisitely detailed and set with dark green gems. Lying in the shadow of the sculpture was a simple stone slab the length and width of a human child.
Wrapped in a dark cloak, his face concealed by the folds of its hood, a figure approached the altar and knelt in reverence.
"They're here," he announced. It seemed to him that two of the gems in the altar stone flared brightly at the news.
"Both of them?" The deep baritone echoed the demand throughout the cavern.
"Yes."
"Exxxx-cellent." The Blue Priest strode out of the darkness behind the altar to face the acolyte. His was a horrific visage to behold. Humanoid in shape, he was far from human. His skin was leather-like yet scaled like that of a fish and a sickly blue in color. Instead of hair, gills fanned his temples and ran down the back of his head in a crest that disappeared into a voluminous black robe.
"You will need this." He extended a clawed hand to reveal a small dark green vial sealed with wax bearing Hera's seal. Eyes like black pebbles bore into the petitioner at his feet. "You know what to do?"
The figure nodded curtly as he accepted the container and tucked it safely away.
"It is a powerful potion. Use it sparingly," warned the Blue Priest. "We do not want them dead. Not yet! And if you fail..."
"I will not fail," replied the acolyte confidently.
"See that you do not." He had no need to voice the consequences of failure; Hera was not a merciful goddess. "By moonrise tomorrow, the House of Iphicles must be no more!"
A small crowd of delighted guests, servants, and villagers milled about the castle courtyard and jostled for a better view of a sight both astonishingly impressive and incredibly ludicrous. The mighty Hercules, legendary slayer of more monsters than could be numbered on the fingers of both hands, and his trusted companion Iolaus were playing at acrobat all for the sake of a garland of flowers.
It began when a small army of castle servants were delegated to decorate the raised platform that had been built at the heart of the courtyard. It would serve as one of many open-air stages for entertainers throughout the week-long festival, but its first and most important function would be to act as the platform from which Corinth's King and Queen would initiate the festivities by offering their personal thanks to Hestia and Demeter for peace and a bountiful harvest. The decorating had gone extremely well and exactly according to the diagram sketched for them by the Chamberlain, until it came time to drape the canopy. To the dismay of all, the framework was too high to reach! Apparently the carpenters who had built the structure were accustomed to shinnying up the frame and straddling the beams to do their work. It had never occurred to them to check -- or anyone else to question -- whether the canopy could be reached by conventional means!
The decorators tried to climb a ladder and toss the ends of the garland up over their heads at the canopy framework like a rope, but there was nothing to anchor it into place and the garland invariably came tumbling down in a cloud of flower petals and ribbon. Another idea was to tie a rope to the end of the garland, throw its length over the canopy beam, and pull the garland up and over. Unfortunately, it still left nothing on which to anchor the decoration and the dangling length of rope was a hazard to anyone walking on the platform. By this point, the hapless servants had attracted quite a crowd of spectators. Although a few shouted encouragement, most laughed and made sport of the comedy of errors unfolding before them.
Everything they tried failed. Frustrated and on the verge of despair, the decorators made one last valiant attempt to complete their mission by trying to shinny up one of the canopy's anchoring posts, a length of the garland thrown over their shoulder. Unfortunately, the higher any one of their number tried to shinny, the more length of garland they had to maneuver on their own. Not a single man managed to make it to the canopy frame before the weight of the decoration forced them to drop back to the ground. The last one to try nearly broke his neck in the process when he lost his balance and fell backward off of the support pole. Just when it seemed he would strike the edge of the platform and do himself serious harm, there was a blur of motion from the crowd and suddenly Hercules was there beneath him, arms outstretched and waiting. The servant landed squarely -- and safely -- in the hero's arms.
"Looks like you fellas could use a little help," said Iolaus helpfully as he mounted the stage at a more leisurely pace.
Hercules deposited the grateful servant on solid ground and picked up a length of the now somewhat battered looking flower garland. "Let's see what we can do," he said affably.
So here they now were, the center of attention and not in the least bit concerned. With his legs slightly apart and braced, Hercules stood on the top-most rung of the ladder that now leaned against one of the support poles. Balancing upon Hercules' shoulders with only his friend's hands at each ankle to anchor his footing, Iolaus stretched upward and was able to touch the bottom of the canopy beam with his fingertips. The first end of the garland was carefully passed up to them with the aid of a rope thrown over the beam. It was then a simple matter for Iolaus to anchor the garland in place over a convenient nail and cut away the excess length of rope.
The people gathered in the castle courtyard were not the only audience. King Iphicles stood in stony silence and watched the spectacle from one of the large vaulted windows in the castle throne room.
"Quite a sideshow," sniffed Zephious with obvious disdain. "Not very becoming behavior for a king's brother."
As if to prove his point, the anchoring of the second end of the garland was not going as smoothly for Hercules and Iolaus as the first. The ladder was slipping. Hercules noticed a subtle shift to the left as Iolaus clambered onto his shoulders but neither man gave it much thought. They were doing a lot of jiggling at the moment as they assumed their positions and ladder movement was to be expected. Unfortunately, as soon as Iolaus stretched his hands overhead in order to reach the canopy beam, the ladder groaned and shifted to the left. Standing precariously astride Hercules' shoulders, Iolaus desperately tried to keep his balance. Arms pinwheeling, he swayed first forward then back as Hercules struggled to regain his footing on the ladder rung. The garland slipped from his hands and plummeted to the ground, filling the air with a puff of flower petals like silken snow.
Top heavy and now leaning at an angle, the ladder could no longer refuse the call of gravity and began to fall.
"Uh-oh," groaned Iolaus as Hercules' shoulders disappeared from beneath his boots. "Going DOWNNNNNNNN!!!!"
Suddenly airborne, Iolaus tucked his body into a tight ball and somersaulted the distance to the ground. Well clear of the platform edge, he landed a bit unsteadily on his feet then popped up and extended his arms to catch his balance, looking for all the world like a tumbler who had just executed an intricate maneuver.
The crowd cheered their delight. Equally pleased with himself, Iolaus offered his fans an elaborate bow and a wide grin that said, 'I meant to do that!'
"Eh-HEM," grumped a voice at his feet.
Iolaus looked down. Hercules, laying flat on his back on the ground, was covered from head to toe in flower petals.
"If you don't mind?"
"Oh, right. Sorry." Iolaus extended a hand to his friend and helped pull him to his feet. There were flower petals in Hercules' hair, stuck to the sweat on his chest and arms, and stuffed into the tops of boots and gauntlets. "You look like a May queen," giggled Iolaus. "It's very fetching!"
"Think so?" Hercules planted a palm firmly against Iolaus' chest and shoved!
"Whooooaaaaa!!!!!" exclaimed Iolaus as his feet flew out from under him. He landed on his back hard enough to knock the wind out of him. "Hey! What was that f-- Ooohhh noooooo!"
With an evil grin, Hercules dropped the entire length of the heavy garland on top of Iolaus, burying him in an instant.
"You're right," he decided as Iolaus sputtered and floundered in the center of the heap of cloyingly sweet flowers. "Very fetching!"
Watching from within the castle, Zephious was not laughing. In fact, was hopping mad. "I hope they're enjoying themselves at the government's expense," he snorted. "It took a week to prepare that garland, and look at it now! Ruined!"
"Oh, lighten up, you old tight wad," admonished Marselas. "It's a festival! They're just having a little fun."
"Looks to me like they've had a little too much wine for lunch. Look at what they've done!" he demanded, pointing through the window at the perceived carnage below. "How in Hades am I going to replace that garland in time for the ceremony tomorrow?"
"You'll think of something."
"Oh, yes. Of course I will. I'm the Chancellor, aren't I? I'm supposed to take the loss of a 300 dinar decoration in stride! Those things don't grow on trees, you know!"
"Calm down, Zephious, before you have another fit of apoplexy," warned Marselas. "Look, I'll tell you what. You have your people get that ... thing ... gathered up, and I'll see what I can do about getting it on the stage canopy where it belongs."
"And how do you propose to succeed where the mighty Hercules has failed?" asked the Chancellor derisively.
Marselas grinned. "I'll have a carpenter build a longer ladder."
Zephious opened his mouth to retort then snapped it shut again, momentarily looking very much like a fish out of water. With a curt nod of acceptance, the Chamberlain turned on his heel and stalked away.
Chuckling, Marselas strolled over to join the King.
Iphicles had not moved from his place before the window. He stood as if graven in stone, fists clenched at his sides.
In the courtyard below, most of the crowd had disbursed and gone on its way. Iolaus had finally managed to extract himself from the coils of garland and was assisting Hercules in untangling the mess they'd made of the decoration.
"It's amazing how much Hercules and Iolaus depend on each other. Their friendship is as fierce a bond as any I've ever seen," Marselas mused aloud. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that they were the brothers." Too late, he suddenly remembered to whom he was speaking and hastily added, "No offense meant, sire."
"Get out."
"Sire?"
"I said GET OUT!"
Stunned by the uncharacteristic outburst, Marselas could do little more than stare.
"That was not a request," managed Iphicles through clenched teeth. "Leave me!"
"Y-yes, my king." Perplexed, Marselas executed a hasty bow and, though reluctant, did as he was ordered.
Iphicles did not see him leave. He saw nothing and no one except Hercules and Iolaus through the haze of his anger.
Look at him, thought Iphicles as he glowered from his lofty height upon the unsuspecting Iolaus. He never leaves Hercules' side. How dare he flaunt their friendship on my very doorstep! As if to proclaim to all of Corinth how much more beloved he is of the great Hercules than I am.
As young boys the brothers had been inseparable friends. They shared the same mother and there once was a time that it didn't matter that their fathers differed. Not even that Hercules had been sired by a the king of the gods. Iphicles' father Amphitryon loved both boys as his own, treated them as equals, and raised them to respect each other.
When had the rift between them occurred? Could it have started that the summer so long ago when Hercules first met the boy Iolaus?
Iphicles could not seem to recall if it had been one event or a series of occurrences that had fostered the animosity between them. Why had it never occurred to him until now that it may have been the advent of Iolaus into their lives that was responsible for the division in their family?
No, that can't be it. I'm being unfair, he argued with himself. It's probably this accursed headache.
The ache in his temples had begun shortly after lunch. At first he had thought the new wine to be at fault, but that was hours ago. Instead of lessening with time, the pain now thundered through the very fiber of his being. It made rational thought difficult while serving to heighten the emotional turmoil that boiled within him.
The more Iphicles thought upon it, the more he could no longer deny the truth. For nearly as long as he could remember, wherever there was Hercules, Iolaus followed like a blonde shadow.
We're nearly twins, Hercules and I. To look at us you cannot help but see that we are born of the same mother, yet he treats Iolaus with the love he never showed me!
Or wasn't allowed to show, whispered a tiny voice of reason.
But Iphicles did not hear it. Would not hear it. His soul was afire with a cold rage born of a jealousy and insecurity that now masqueraded as hatred for the cause of one of the greatest losses of his childhood -- the affection of his big brother, Hercules. How could he forget -- or excuse! -- the fact that it was Iolaus who accompanied Hercules to the lair of Echidna, Mother of All Monsters, to save the imperiled Alcmene? Did it occur to Hercules that Iphicles should have been the one to help save their mother? No!
Once the bards had sung of the Labors of Hercules and the personal war he waged against Hera in the name of his murdered wife and children. Now those songs included entire stanzas about the noble Iolaus, brave warrior and most beloved friend of the son of Zeus. One outrageous tale even went so far as to claim that Hercules had gone to the god Hades himself to bring Iolaus back from the dead! That was too far fetched even for Iphicles to give credence. Why would Hercules travel to the Underworld and choose to restore Iolaus to life instead of Deianaira and the kids?
Unless the influence Iolaus exerted Hercules was something more than could be explained by a mere bond of friendship?
No, that wasn't possible!
Or was it?
Iphicles suddenly felt like a man at war with himself and angrily shook his head as if this would banish the demons. The pounding in his skull had become the maddening buzz of hornets between his temples. Suddenly his entire body ached. Even the diffused sunlight through the leaded glass of the window felt like needles against his eyes, forcing him to turn away and retreat into the shadowed recesses of the chamber.
Lowering himself into a chair so as not to jar his aching head more than his thoughts had already done, Iphicles poured himself a goblet of wine from a silver decanter and drained the contents in a single draught. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the cushioned seat back and willed the pain away.
On Mt. Olympus, the goddess Hera laughed.
The Queen's solar looked more like a scribe's workroom than a woman's private retreat. Rena's exquisitely ornate loom had been set aside, its shuttle silent and the tapestry forming on the threads temporarily abandoned. Instead of crafts or flowers, every available surface was cluttered with scrolls, parchment and leather-bound books of every shape and size imaginable. There was even a tome large enough for a giant leaning against a far wall.
Hercules stepped over a pile of books and barely avoided flattening a cluster of scrolls that had rolled onto the flagstone flooring. "This is incredible. Who'd have thought there could be so many books just to name a baby?"
"Oh, this isn't all of them," said Rena. "Most are in the castle library. These are just the ones I haven't had a chance to go through yet."
"Are you serious?" asked Iolaus. "There must be over thirty books in here!"
"Fifty-seven. That's if you count the Big Little Book of Giant Baby Names by Ephious Andronicus as one volume." Rena laughed at Iolaus' expression of amazement. "Well, I need something to pass the time while I'm waiting." She ran a loving hand over her swollen belly. "It won't be long now, though, will it little one?"
Hercules was impressed. Who'd have thought there'd be so many books of baby names? "Where did you find them all?"
"Some are from the Library in Alexandria. Others were sent as gifts."
Iolaus picked up a scroll, unrolled it, and began to scan the runes penned on the sheepskin. "Hey! This one even tells you what the names mean."
"Here, let me see that," said Hercules as he plucked the scroll from between his friend's hands. He read over a few of the names then grinned. "Now that's interesting. It says here that 'Iolaus' means 'tone-deaf one'."
"WHAT? It does not!" Iolaus snatched the parchment back and looked for the offending entry. "Hey, wait a minute! Iolaus isn't even listed on here!" He allowed the scroll to close and dropped it back onto a pile of parchments. "Obviously whoever wrote that one wouldn't know a noble name if it bit him on the ankle."
"Don't worry, Iolaus," Rena consoled the insulted warrior. "Your name is listed in most of the books. I've even found a few that include Hercules."
"Oh yeah? And what does his name mean?"
"Son of Zeus."
Iolaus rolled his eyes. "Oh, now that's original."
"Sounds pretty straight forward to me," said Hercules. Holding out a hand, he helped Rena to step over one of the piles. "All of these books, and you and Iphicles still haven't been able to find a name you like?"
"Oh, we've found quite a few that we like," said Rena cheerfully. "Just none we can agree on."
"Maybe we can offer a few suggestions," said Iolaus helpfully. He paused to eye the giant book against the wall but thought better about opening it. With his luck, it would fall on him. "Or maybe you could give us a hint as to what names are in the running?"
"What business is it of yours?" demanded Iphicles from the solar's arched doorway. He stalked into the room, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides as to turn the knuckles bone white. There was barely controlled anger in his every movement. "The naming of my child is not a game! It's a private family matter." He glowered at Iolaus. "You are here as the guest of my brother. That does NOT give you the right to assume special privileges or to think yourself a member of this family!"
"Iphicles!" Rena looked at her husband as if upon a stranger gone mad. "How could you say such a thing? Iolaus is our friend!"
"He's no friend of mine! And I'll be damned if he thinks he can insinuate his way into this family!"
Astonished by the outburst, Iolaus felt as if someone had punched him in the heart.
"I ... I'm sorry," was all he could manage before emotion threatened to choke his words.
"Iolaus, wait!" But Hercules was not in time to stop his friend from rushing out of the chamber. By the time he reached the doorway, Iolaus was nowhere to be seen. Furious, Hercules turned on Iphicles. "What in Hades was that all about? He didn't deserve that!"
"Don't you know, brother? It's about family... assuming you even know the meaning of the word."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means why don't you pay attention to your own flesh and blood for once, instead of lavishing all your time and attention on some pint-sized hero-want-to-be basking in the shadow of your fame?"
"I will not listen to you speak about Iolaus in that way," warned Hercules in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. "What's gotten into you? Iolaus is not your rival -- although for some reason I can't fathom you suddenly seem to believe that he is."
"Suddenly?" Iphicles laughed, a harsh, almost manic sound. "Iolaus has always been my rival. From the day he first came into our lives when we were boys, you've treated him as if he were your brother and not me!"
"That's not true, and you know it."
"How can I know anything of the sort when every bard who passes through Corinth sings of the mighty Hercules and includes the name of Iolaus in the same breath? When it was Iolaus who went with you to save Mother >from Echidna and not ME?" railed Iphicles. "For that I will never forgive him -- or you!"
The Blue Priest was pleased. At long last, all was going precisely according to plan.
He allowed one finger to trace the deep groove that encircled his throat, proof of Hera's favor. She had raised him from the dead after his defeat by Hercules -- not once, but twice. He dared not fail this third time. There were things worse than death to be feared. Much worse than even an eternity in Tartarus. Hera would make certain of that.
"Soon, Hera," the Blue Priest promised the glowing green gems on the altar stone. "Very soon, you will have what you desire. The demise of the entire house of Iphicles will be as nothing compared to how Hercules' heart and soul will be shredded by the death of his closest friend at the hands of his brother!"
Hercules found Iolaus in the castle courtyard, a lonely figure sitting on the festival platform. His travel pack rested on the step beside him and his sheathed sword was at his belt.
"Going somewhere?"
"Maybe." Iolaus shrugged lamely. "I was just sitting here thinking..."
"That's a first."
Normally Iolaus would have taken the bait; instead, he allowed the friendly jibe to go by unchallenged. "There's an entire harvest festival going on out there," he pressed on, waving a hand in the general direction of the city beyond the castle walls. "New wine, music, games ... beautiful women. And, well, I'm missing out on it! I mean...you know how much I love a festival. So, I was wondering..." He took a deep breath and blurted out the rest before he had second thoughts. "What would you say if I were to just, you know, go enjoy the festival and catch up with you later?"
"Iolaus..."
"Marselas says if I hurry, there's still a couple of rooms to be found at the inns."
"And you want to stay as far away from Iphicles as possible," concluded Hercules, cutting to the heart of the matter. "After that little tirade of his, I don't blame you."
For a brief moment Iolaus actually considered denying it, then decided against it. What good would it do? Hercules knew him better than living being in the world.
"He's got a point, you know," Iolaus grudgingly admitted. "You haven't seen your brother since Alcmene and Jason's wedding, and in a few days you'll have a bouncing baby nephew to get to know. This is a time for family, Hercules. Your family. That's why I don't want you to throw this opportunity away. You owe it to them, and to yourself as well." He gave a little laugh to try and break the tension. "Besides, I don't think Iphicles will miss me, do you?"
"Iolaus..." Hercules struggled to find the words that would set his friend's mind at ease. "No matter what Iphicles said, he can't have meant it." Iolaus' expression said he knew nothing of the kind. "He's been under a lot of stress lately. This is his first child, and Rena has had some difficulty with the pregnancy. That plus the festival and the stress of running a kingdom..."
"Maybe so," replied Iolaus without conviction. "All the same, I think it might be best if I backed away for a while. At least until after the baby is born."
Hercules knew that tone of voice all too well. "You've made up your mind, haven't you?"
"Yeah. I guess I have."
"You won't stay?"
Although Iolaus dearly wanted to, he shook his head. "No." Mustering his most martyred tone of voice, he concluded, "I'll just have to force myself into the arms of a few beauties to pass the time while you're busy playing big brother."
"Such a noble sacrifice," said Hercules with an equally martyred expression, then fondly, "Just don't come running back here with half a dozen angry boyfriends on your trail. I don't want another encounter like we had in Thrace."
The two men sat in silence for a moment, neither wanting to be the first to say good-bye.
"Will I see you at the ceremony tomorrow?"
Iolaus hesitated a moment, then nodded. With the expected crowd, it shouldn't be too hard to stay out of Iphicles' way. "I'll be there," he promised. "That is, if I can ditch the angry boyfriends in time."
Iolaus extended an open hand and Hercules took it, clasping his friend's wrist in a warrior's handshake.
"Enjoy the festival," said Hercules. "And be careful."
"I will. On both counts." Iolaus shouldered his pack and forced himself not to look back as he walked out of the castle courtyard and into the streets of Corinth.
Iphicles stared intently at the dancing flames within the fireplace but saw only a confusing blur of rose and yellow. His limbs felt leaden and useless, and a full decanter of wine had done little to dull the buzzing ache between his temples.
"Here you are, Sire."
The King looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and tried to focus on the goblet being offered to him. "The last thing I need is more wine," he managed.
"Ah, but you need this wine, Sire. I've added a little something to help deaden the pain. We can't have you missing the ceremony tomorrow morning, can we?"
"No. I s'pose not." Iphicles reached for the goblet.
As his fingers brushed the metal, a sudden pang of dread chilled his soul. But the feeling was gone in an instant and as quickly forgotten. Iphicles brought the goblet to his lips and drank.
Hercules paced the throne room like a lion trapped within in a cage.
"There's something wrong with him, Hercules. Something serious!" sobbed Rena as she wrung her dainty hands together. "He hasn't said a word to me since his confrontation with you in the solar." Tears rolled down her cheeks and fell like dewdrops to stain the silk bodice of her gown. "He didn't even come to bed last evening! Zephious said he spent the night in the library and drank himself to sleep."
It didn't make sense. Hercules and his brother had been at odds before but this dramatic shift in Iphicles' attitude smacked of an outside force at work.
And I've got a pretty damned good idea who's pulling the strings, he thought angrily.
"I've never seen him act this way before!" Rena lamented. "Oh, Hercules, how could he say such things to you -- and to poor Iolaus! It doesn't make sense! I know Iphicles numbers both of you among his most trusted friends. He told me so himself the night of Alcmene's wedding! What could have happened to change him so drastically in so few hours?"
Every fiber of his being told Hercules that this was Hera's handiwork but he kept his own counsel. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm Rena any further.
"Please, Hercules ... you have to help him!"
"I will, Rena," he promised. "I swear it!"
Shortly before the noon hour, the castle gates were thrown wide and the citizens of Corinth given admittance to the courtyard to witness the first and most important ceremony of the Harvest Festival. The wooden platform had been transformed into a beautiful stage draped in shimmering folds of silver, bronze and gold cloth that came together to form a canopy that reflected the noonday sun like an aura. A garland of those flowers most favored by the goddess Hestia, to whom the festival was dedicated, encircled the canopied stage like a wreath and rained delicately fragrant petals upon the crowd at the slightest breeze.
Upon the stage stood a pair of golden thrones and a single bronze brazier. The ceremony was a simple one and older than the recorded history of Corinth. Every harvest, the reigning king or queen gave their personal thanks to Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home, and beseeched her blessing for another year. This year's offering would be especially meaningful, for soon Hestia would bless the King's household with it's first child.
All this fuss for something that will last less than ten minutes, marveled Hercules. From his vantage on the stage to the right of the king's throne, he anxiously scanned the crowd for a sign of Iolaus.
"There," said Marselas from his position beside the queen's throne.
"What?"
"Iolaus," replied the Captain. "He's over there. Beside the cistern."
Hercules looked toward the back of the crowd and caught sight of a familiar blonde head bent close to that of an attractive redhead. At that instant, Iolaus happened to look up and caught sight of Hercules on the stage staring directly at him. With a bright smile, he gave his friend a jaunty wave and hoped that it appeared as carefree as he intended.
Grinning, Hercules waved back.
"He doesn't look the worse for wear after an evening spent in town," commented Marselas, a twinkle in his eyes.
"That's Iolaus."
Any further conversation was prevented by a blaring trumpet fanfare >from the castle walls. A roaring cheer rose from the crowd to mingle with the cacophony. In anticipation of sight of their King and Queen, many raised small banners bearing Corinth's colors and began to wave them in enthusiastic greeting. All eyes turned to the castle and the arched doorway through which the traditional procession would come . First the guards in full dress uniform would march forth, paving the way for the two children who had been chosen from the populace to represent Hestia and Poseidon, the patron gods of Corinth. After the children would come the King and Queen in all their splendor, followed by the Chancellor and his ministers bearing the offerings to Hestia, and then the closing phalanx of guards.
On the stage, Hercules waited anxiously. He had not seen Iphicles since their heated confrontation in the solar the day before. It hadn't been from lack of trying. After his meeting with Rena, Hercules had sought out his mortal half-brother with every intention of trying to get to the bottom of things. Iphicles had refused to see him and sent back word that he was not to be disturbed by anyone -- not brother or wife or counselors -- until it was time for the Ceremony.
Hercules had a very bad feeling about this.
On the castle walls, the trumpeters concluded their fanfare with a blaring flourish, leaving the joyous cheers of the crowd in its wake. Fathers lifted small children onto their shoulders so that they might see the beginning of the procession while others jostled for a better view of the stage.
Nothing happened.
As the minutes began to crawl by, the cheers slowly became murmurs of impatience, then of mounting alarm.
"They should be here by now," said Marselas anxiously as he stared at the still empty castle doorway. "Something's wrong!"
"Let's go!" Hercules jumped down from the platform into the crowd and began to push his way toward the castle. Marselas followed close behind, traveling an easy path in Hercules' wake as the hero made his way through the press of humanity.
They took the castle steps two at a time and burst through the doors into chaos. The grand entrance hall had been turned into a battle zone. Metal rang on metal and stone as five guards bearing the colors of Corinth fought desperately to defend themselves against three times their number. Their assailants wore leather armor and masks that hid all of their features except for their eyes. The forehead of each mask bore a brand in the shape of a single jade eye -- the mark of Hera's favor.
On the far side of the cavernous hall, an unsteady Iphicles swung his longsword two-handed against three attackers. Not far behind him, a boy and a girl not more than ten summers old cowered in a corner and desperately tried to stay out of the way of the battle that raged around them.
With an angry bellow, Hercules charged into the fray. Grasping two of the Green Eyes by their collars from behind, he hauled them off of a wounded guard and slammed their heads together. Their eyes rolled up in their heads as they dropped like stones to the floor. Reaching over their prone bodies, Hercules snatched a spear from the hands of a Green Eye beleaguering another of the King's guards. Balancing it in both hands, he whipped the butt of the makeshift quarterstaff upward and caught the Green Eye beneath the chin guard hard enough to flip him off of his feet.
One of the children shrilled. Hercules turned in time to see a sword blade intended for the King slice the air inches above the little girl's head. He started toward them with the intent of helping just as five Green Eyes rushed to overwhelm him. The sheer weight of their number bore him to his knees. Hercules gathered his strength like a spring within him and threw off all five men with a powerful upward sweep of his arms. As he regained his feet, he realized that he was too far away to reach his brother or the children in time to prevent their attacker's next sword swing.
Suddenly, Iolaus was there. Blonde hair flying, he leaped nimbly over fallen bodies and dodged sword blades in his race across the hall to reach the beleaguered King. As Iphicles parried the blows of two of his assailants, Iolaus jumped and kicked outward, smashing his booted right foot against the sword-hand of the third Green Eye. His weapon clattered to the ground at the children's' feet.
"Pick on someone your own size!" Iolaus snapped at the Green Eye who stood a full head taller than himself. Before his assailant could mount a counterattack, Iolaus whirled and landed a second high kick that caught the man squarely in the chest and sent him flying.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Iphicles as Iolaus took up a fighting stance by his side. "I don't need your help!"
Iolaus was astounded by the vehemence and open hatred in his voice.
"What is it with you?!" he demanded, exasperated. "I am NOT your enemy! THEY are!" Iolaus sidestepped a sword swing that sought to cleave his right shoulderblade. He ducked under a second swing and punched the swordsman in the chest just below the heart then followed through with a second punch to the solar plexus. "If this is about Hercules --"
"IPHICLES!"
Iolaus and Iphicles turned as one at the shrill cry and were barely in time to catch sight of two black clad warriors dragging Rena around a corner into the corridor beyond.
"RENA!" shouted Iphicles. Distracted, he was barely in time to parry his opponent's next swordstroke.
Beside him, Iolaus was a fury of motion as he landed a rapid succession of punches and kicks on his Green Eye's head and chest. The man stumbled backward under the onslaught and tripped over the prone body of a fallen comrade. Iolaus delivered a solid kick to his temple on the way down that ensured he'd stay out of action for a while.
With a strength born of desperation, Iphicles struck aside his opponent's sword, ducked, and came up under his guard, sinking his blade deep into the black armored chest.
"Come on!" Iolaus called over his shoulder and, without waiting for a response, sped off in the direction in which Rena had been taken.
The King spared a moment to yank his sword blade free of the Green Eye's body and charged after him.
Rounding the corner where Rena had last been seen, Iolaus raced down the adjoining corridor in hot pursuit. Running blindly but trusting in his hunter's instinct, he prayed she had not been dragged into one of the smaller adjoining passages. If he made the wrong choice, it could mean Rena's life and that of Hercules' unborn nephew --
"Iphicleeees!"
Rena's cry was distant now and fading, but it was enough for Iolaus to make a snap decision. Turning off of the main corridor into a connecting passage, he willed every ounce of his strength into his legs and the chase.
"Iphi---!"
A cold spear of dread sliced through Iolaus as Rena's cry was cut off in mid-word. He followed the echo into another passage and barely managed to skid to a halt in time to prevent slamming head-first into a stone wall.
"What in Hades??" gasped a winded and very perplexed Iolaus. "Where'd they go?"
The passage was a dead end, and it was empty. There was no sign of Rena or her captors anywhere.
Iphicles charged into the alcove. "WHERE IS SHE??"
"Here. She should be HERE," replied Iolaus in frustration. "I don't get it." He ran the flat of his hand over the gray stones of the southern-most wall. "There has to be a secret passageway or something--"
He sensed rather than heard the sudden displacement of air behind him. Reflexes honed by a hundred battles caused him to whip around and dodge to the right -- barely in time to avoid losing his head to Iphicles' sword.
"WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU??" shouted Iolaus.
"You may have my brother, but you can't ... have ... HER!" Iphicles swung his sword at Iolaus' throat.
In the confined space of the alcove there was little room for Iolaus to maneuver and nowhere left to go. He threw himself to the left but not far enough to prevent the blade from cutting a searing path of pain along his right bicep. Clapping his left hand to the wound, he felt warm blood trickle between his fingers. Iolaus looked at Hercules' brother in complete and utter shock.
Gods of Olympus ... he really does mean to kill me!
"Iphicles, listen to me! You're making a terrible mistake! I'm on your sii---"
Iphicles lunged, throwing his entire weight behind the thrust. This time Iolaus was ready for him. Sidestepping the lunge, he grasped Iphicles' over-extended swordarm in one hand and punched the King beneath his unprotected armpit. The reflex had exactly the desired effect, causing Iphicles' fingers to open and drop the weapon as he gasped in pain.
"I don't want to hurt you," pleaded Iolaus, hoping for some semblance of reason.
Iphicles responded by attacking with his bare hands, punching Iolaus hard in his wounded arm. Iolaus cried out as fiery pain lanced through his arm and shoulder. Iphicles pressed his advantage, grasping Iolaus by the shoulders of his vest and slamming him into the wall.
The stones seemed to shudder at the impact; then, suddenly, the wall was gone, dissolving into emptiness at Iolaus' back. With a shout of surprise, he lost his balance and tumbled backward into an explosion of darkness.
With the departure of Iphicles and Iolaus from the fray, the remaining Green Eyes turned on their only remaining adversary -- Hercules. At eight to one, it was apparent to them that the odds were in their favor.
With shouts of premature triumph, five of Hera's minions charged their lone opponent headlong. It was not a good idea. Hercules effortlessly lifted a heavy five foot high iron candlerack and turned to face them. Too late to stop their momentum, all five men ran forehead-first into the now horizontal and forward-moving bar. As one, their feet flew out from under them and they crashed to the stone flooring in an ungainly heap of limbs.
A little more cautious than their brethren, two Green Eyes moved forward to challenge Hercules. Each swung a scimitar with a wickedly serrated edge. They maintained an even distance apart as they circled their adversary in an attempt to divide his attentions. With the candlestand still in his grasp, Hercules feigned a jab at the Green Eye in front of him. As expected, the one behind him took a step closer to press his advantage, sword raised for the attack. What the Green Eye did not expect was for Hercules to suddenly jab the candlestand backward beneath his right arm. The legs of the candlestand caught the rear assailant hard in the chest with enough force to slam him into the nearest wall. Following through with the swing, Hercules brought his makeshift weapon around in a sweeping arc to the right and slammed the Green Eyes' partner in the head, dropping him like a rock.
"Look out!" a familiar female voice cried out in warning behind him.
Hercules whipped around and was just in time to see the eighth and final Green Eye fall face forward, the throwing knife in his hand now as useless as it's owner.
Standing in his wake and looking extremely pleased with himself was a man of some fifty summers with salt and pepper hair and sharp brown eyes. Of average height, he was garbed in an embroidered blue tunic and wielded a heavy oak walking stick.
"Thank you, my dear," he said graciously as he handed the impromptu club to his companion, a handsome woman in her middle years. "That was most satisfying."
"You are very welcome," replied Alcmene sweetly, and gave his hand a loving pat.
"Jason! Mother!"
"Hello, Hercules," said Jason affably as he greeted his step-son with a warm handshake. "Hope you don't mind my playing through."
"Feel free any time," replied Hercules meaningfully.
Alcmene smiled lovingly at her eldest son. "I've missed you."
"And I've missed you," he replied and kissed her cheek.
Arms akimbo, Jason surveyed the carnage around him with a critical eye. "So. Been tidying up the Great Hall, I see." He glanced at Hercules. "Hera?"
Hercules nodded. "Hera," he confirmed.
Several of the Corinthian guards had been wounded in the fight but none appeared to have suffered a life-threatening injury. The clean-up process had already begun as new guards entered the Hall to assist their injured comrades and round up Hera's defeated minions.
"Oh!" exclaimed Alcmene when she saw the two children who still cowered in a far corner, their eyes round with fear. Without another word, she hurried across the Grand Hall to help them.
It was then that Hercules realized that something was missing. "They're gone!"
Jason looked at him with a quizzical expression. "Who?"
"Iphicles and Iolaus. They were right over there." Hercules pointed in the general direction of Alcmene and the children.
"Well, they're not there now."
Jason was right. No matter how hard Hercules looked, there was no sign of his brother or his best friend anywhere in the Great Hall. For that matter, neither did he see Captain Marselas. Now that Hercules thought on it, he could not recall having seen Marselas from the moment they entered the castle.
"Hercules!" As if summoned by the hero's thoughts, Marselas suddenly appeared around a corner and ran toward him.
Hercules caught the panting Captain by the shoulders to steady him while he sought to regain his breath.
"They're ... gone," gasped Marselas.
"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" demanded Jason.
"Taken." Marselas took a deep breath. "Iphicles and Iolaus. And Rena."
"No!" exclaimed Hercules, fists clenched in rage. "WHERE?"
"Down there," Marselas waved in the direction from which he'd come. "I tried to follow, but I was attacked."
"Show us!"
Marselas nodded. With Hercules and Jason close behind, he led them down the corridor and into a passage seldom used by any but the servants traversing from the kitchens to other parts of the castle.
"This is where I was attacked," said Marselas as he brought them to a T-section in the passage. The corridor was empty, with no sign of friend or foe.
"Did you see which direction they went?" asked Hercules.
"No. I'm sorry," apologized Marselas. "By the time I finished fighting, they were gone. But..." He hesitated.
"But what?"
Rather than reply, Marselas indicated they should follow. He took them down another, narrower passage that ended in a solid stone wall. There was no outlet here. Just one way in, and one way out.
"There," he said grimly, and pointed to an irregular discoloration on the stone flooring.
Jason stooped down to examine the small dark puddle. His expression was grim as he brought back his fingers stained with red.
"That's where I found this." Marselas reached into his pocket and pulled out a dark green, serpent-shaped object on the end of a broken leather thong.
Hercules instantly recognized Iolaus' ever-present pendant, the only tangible artifact his friend had of his deceased father. It was not something he'd willingly leave behind.
The pendant was stained with blood.
Iolaus opened his eyes and tried to lift his head. Instantly, he wished he hadn't as a sharp pain lanced through his right temple. Gingerly, he reached up and winced as he touched the offending spot. His fingers came away sticky with blood from a lump the size of a cockatrice egg.
I'm getting to old for this, he moaned to himself.
Slowly, painfully, Iolaus began to take stock of himself and his surroundings. He was laying flat on his back on a very cold, very damp stone floor and his entire body felt like one massive bruise. The sword wound on his right arm was raw, inflamed and exceedingly tender to the touch but at least it had stopped bleeding. All in all, he thought himself in surprisingly good shape for someone who expected he would next be opening his eyes to Hades' familiar visage.
With a little effort and a few grunts of pain, he raised himself up on the elbow of his good arm and hazarded a look around. He was sitting at the bottom of a pit with walls of rough-hewn gray rock -- moldy, moss-covered rock, like that found within a sea cave or a deep cavern. A dark, damp, extremely cold cavern.
"Oh, great. Just great," he groaned. "Here we go again." Now more than ever he wished he'd accepted the redhead's invitation to join her in a hayride instead of attending the opening Ceremonies.
Directly over his head, approximately ten feet above the floor, a rusted iron grate was set into the pit's eastern-most wall. From the opening Iolaus could hear a distant sound that reminded him of waves slapping against the rocks of a shoreline.
I've got a baaaad feeling about this, he thought.
"OOOoooooooohh!"
Startled, Iolaus turned toward the groan and discovered he was not alone in the pit.
In a far corner of the cell, Iphicles anxiously knelt over Rena's prostrate form. He had removed his tunic and pressed it into service under his wife's head as a pillow. Rena shivered with cold but her pale face was soaked with sweat. There was pain and distress in her eyes as her hands fluttered weakly over the bulge of her belly.
Iphicles didn't look much better. Dark circles shadowed blood-shot eyes and his hands trembled slightly as he sought to make his wife as comfortable as the situation would allow. He did not look up when Iolaus stooped down beside him; he could not bear to drag his gaze from his wife's tortured features.
"What's happening?" he asked hoarsely. "What's wrong with her?"
Iolaus wasn't certain, but he had a pretty good idea. He remembered how Ania looked when she went into labor with their child...
Ania. The mere thought of her echoed an old, familiar ache in his heart. How long had it been since he'd thought of his late wife, or if their child? Bittersweet memories threatened to overwhelm Iolaus. Now was not the time! With determination, he banished the memories to the back of his mind where they had dwelled in the years since his family's passing.
To Iphicles he said, "I think the baby's coming."
"No, that can't be! It's five days too soon!"
"Tell your son that," said Iolaus. "I've never known a baby to keep to a schedule." He reached out as if to touch Rena's belly.
Iphicles caught his wrist in mid-air, stopping him. "Don't touch her!" he shouted, a spark of rage rekindling in his dark eyes.
Iolaus made no effort to pull his hand away, even though it felt as if Iphicles' grip would snap his captured wrist at any moment. This damned feud had to end here and now, or they were all doomed.
"In spite of what you think -- or have been made to think -- I am NOT trying to take the love of your family away from you!"
"Liar!" spat Iphicles. "What other explanation is there? Hercules never treated me with the trust and favor he lavishes upon you!"
"Did you ever let him?" demanded Iolaus in Hercules' defense. "Come off it, Iphicles! Even as a kid you were at odds with Herc. You treated everything that ever happened between the two of you as if it were some sort of competition!"
"That's not my fault. What was I supposed to do? He's the son of a god!"
"That shouldn't have made a difference! But it did. Because you were jealous, and you allowed that jealousy to drive a wedge between you. If you can't admit that to Hercules, then at least admit it to yourself!"
"It isn't true!"
"Isn't it?" countered Iolaus angrily. "Not too long ago, you were running around the countryside trying to convince people that you were Hercules! Is that the sort of thing one does to one's brother?"
Iphicles looked as if he'd been slapped in the face. He could not deny the truth of Iolaus' words. The last vestiges of anger slowly ran out of him like water from a wineskin. Almost as an after thought, he released Iolaus' wrist.
So far so good, thought Iolaus as he absently rubbed the circulation back into his wrist. At least this time he's listening.
"I envy you, Iolaus. You have the relationship with Hercules I've always coveted. Trust. Friendship. Loyalty. But then, I never earned them, did I?" said Iphicles wretchedly. "You're right. I've allowed my jealousy and pride to get the better of me."
It was a painful truth, long years hidden in the depths of Iphicles' heart.
"You can't change the past," said Iolaus sagely. "But you can learn from it and use it to shape the future. Whether you believe it or not, Hercules trusts you with his life. And he's proud of you. Not just because you were chosen as Jason's heir to the throne of Corinth, but because you once had the opportunity to kill him but chose to fight by his side instead."
He took a deep breath and pressed on. "Truth be told, I'm the one who should be envious of you." Although Iolaus tried to sound matter of fact, he could not keep the depth of his feelings from his voice. "Hercules is my friend. The best friend I've ever had. But you're his brother, Iphicles. Not me. The same blood runs through your veins, and that's a bond with Hercules that I can never share. He's your family, and for good or ill, no one can take that away from you. Not Hera or Zeus or Alcmene...and certainly not me."
A heavy silence fell between them while Iphicles thought this through. Iolaus waited uneasily, uncertain whether his words had been taken to heart or if he was going to be dodging another attack by Hercules' baby brother.
A moment later Iphicles pushed himself to his feet, an expression of renewed determination on his handsome features.
"Let's get the hell out of here," he growled.
"There's usually a trick to these things," said Jason as he cast a critical eye over the stone wall that ended the passageway. "According to the legends ... I should just have to press here..." He laid his left hand against a stone at shoulder height. "...and right about here..." His right hand went to a stone a little below the first and to the right. "And push, like ... SO!"
A section of the wall swung obediently inward.
"How did you do that?" asked an astonished Marselas.
"Good clean living," replied Jason matter of factly. Then added with a grin, "That, and being King of Corinth with a bad case of insomnia." He peered into the opening. "There was a scroll in the castle library that mentioned the existence of an endless tunnel beneath the castle."
"A tunnel going where?" asked Hercules.
Jason shrugged apologetically. "Don't know. I didn't get that far in the scroll because I fell asleep." He turned from the opening. "There's a stairway leading down here. Pretty steep going, from the look of it. I wouldn't try it without a torch."
"Be right back." Hercules left the passage and returned a few moments later with two flaming torches liberated from wall sconces in the adjoining corridor. Hercules kept custody of one and gave the other Jason.
"I'll bring up the rear," volunteered Marselas.
"After you," Jason invited Hercules.
Single file, the three men entered the opening and began the descent into the secret passage. The stairway was steep and so narrow that Hercules' shoulders nearly brushed the walls on either side. Dust on the shallow stone steps and strands of torn cobwebbing showed signs of having been recently disturbed.
At the foot of the stairs Hercules found another blood stain and signs of a struggle.
"Looks like five, maybe six men," observed Jason aloud. He moved a little ahead of Hercules as he studied the signs on the ground. "Someone was being dragged between two people. There's some blood here, too. Iolaus?" Jason tried not to think about what that implied. "This one here was putting up a pretty good fight; I'd say he had three men on him alone. That's probably Iphicles. These last prints...that's either one very large man or he's carrying something. Or someone."
"Rena," guessed Hercules. Jason nodded in grim agreement.
"We could go back and return with a dozen castle guards," suggested Marselas.
"We don't have time," replied Hercules with grim certainly, and struck out down the passage in the same direction as the footprints in the dust.
Side by side, Iphicles and Iolaus craned their necks to look at the pit opening.
"Do you think we can reach it?"
"Too high," said Iolaus. "Even if I stood on your shoulders we'd still be a foot short."
Iphicles looked around and focused on the grate in the wall. "What about that?"
"We can definitely reach it," admitted Iolaus as he, too, considered the possibility. "The grill looks like it's pretty rusted, so we can probably pull it off." He frowned. "Then what? I could probably squeeze through but --"
"You are not ... stuffing me ... into that tiny hole!" protested Rena. She was sitting up now, with Iphicles' tunic serving as a cushion between her back and the rough rock wall. No longer quite as pale, her face was flushed from exertion and her eyes were bright with pain. Her fingers laced her hands together over her belly as if to convince the child within to wait just a little while longer before begging entry into the world.
"The thought never occurred to us," promised Iphicles in his most reassuring tone. Rena made a rude noise that quite eloquently stated her opinion on the matter.
"She's right, though," admitted Iolaus. "Even if the two of us could get through, there's no way Rena would fit without risking the baby."
"Then just one of us will have to go through and try to find a way around to the top of the pit," concluded Iphicles. Before Iolaus could comment, he added, "I won't leave Rena."
"I know," said Iolaus, understanding. "Up against the wall ... Sire."
With his legs braced slightly apart, Iphicles faced the section of wall directly below the grate and placed his hands palm first against the rock. Using Iphicles as a human ladder, Iolaus clambered up onto the King's shoulders and found himself at eye level with the opening.
"What do you see?" grunted Iphicles. "Is there a passage? Can you get through it?"
"Get back!" Iolaus suddenly exclaimed. He jumped down from Iphicles' shoulders and gasped as he jarred his wounded arm. "Back!" he managed through teeth gritted with pain and stumbled toward the opposite wall.
From the grate overhead, Iphicles could hear a crescendo of sound like the roar of a mighty river. He backpedaled away from the wall then turned and ran toward Rena. He barely reached his wife in time to shield her as a torrent of water surged through the grate and into the pit...
Deep in the bowls of the earth, the Blue Priest spread his arms wide before Hera's altar in exaltation.
"It is done!" he exclaimed, jubilant. "In a matter of moments, the house of Iphicles will be no more!"
"If I were you, I'd tell that bitch Hera not to start celebrating yet!"
No! It couldn't be! The Blue Priest whipped around and saw his worst nightmare -- Hercules!
"You idiot! It's too soon!" he howled in rage. "You weren't to lead them here until moonrise!"
Baffled at this tirade, Jason and Hercules first glanced at each other then, as realization dawned, turned as one to glare at Marselas.
The Captain angrily tossed aside the torch he carried and drew his sword, placing the blade between himself and Hercules.
"You betrayed your King?" said Jason in disbelief.
"Why, Marselas?" demanded Hercules.
"I've served Corinth faithfully for 20 years. It was I who should have been named Jason's successor, not Iphicles!" snarled the Captain. "ATTACK!"
Instantly, black armored men poured from the cavern's shadows and fell upon Jason and Hercules.
"Kill them!" the Blue Priest shouted encouragement from the safely of Hera's altar.
Swinging his longsword two-handed, Marselas led the attack on Hercules. His blows came with the skill of a seasoned soldier, seeing any opening in his opponent's guard with which to press home his attack. Hercules parried the sword with the torch, turning back the blade but unable to gain ground. A Green Eye tried to rush in from Hercules' right side and met a punch that knocked him out cold in a single blow.
"It won't matter much longer," Marselas taunted Hercules. "Soon there won't be a King in Corinth or an heir." His blade sliced the air an inch shy of Hercules' chest. "Oh, and my condolences on the death of your friend, Iolaus."
The Captain's words were part of a strategy to demoralize. It had worked for him in countless battles, serving to distract his opponent enough to cause the one tiny mistake that would be their downfall. He expected no less from this encounter, and so was taken totally by surprise when Hercules suddenly stepped forward into his next sword swing. Using the torch as a club, Hercules struck Marselas' sword aside hard enough to knock it from his grasp. The blade spun off to the right, imbedding itself in the chest of a startled Green Eye. Hercules' fist lashed out with lightening speed and punched Marselas between the eyes, felling him.
Two Green Eyes ran headlong into Hercules from behind, seeking to overpower him. Hercules swung his arms backwards, his fists connecting with their groins. As they doubled over in agony, he thumped each on the back of the head and temporarily put them out of their misery.
Hercules turned at the sound of approaching footsteps but held his attack when he saw it was Jason. The cavern was littered with the bodies of unconscious or disabled Green Eyes. Not a single one had been left standing.
Hera's altar was empty. The Blue Priest was gone.
Let Hera deal with him, thought Hercules grimly. He had something more important to attend to.
"Come on!" exclaimed Hercules as he ran across the cavern to where the passage resumed. "We have to find Iphicles and Rena."
And Iolaus. Gods, please let Marselas have been lying about Iolaus...
"I ... I don't think I can't manage this much longer ..." groaned Iphicles.
"We have to."
The water level in the pit was rising with astonishing speed. Standing side by side, Iphicles and Iolaus struggled to hold Rena aloft on their shoulders above the rising tide. The tide had reached their chests, the water lapping at Rena's slippered feet. Neither man allowed himself to think about what would happen when the water level rose above their heads.
"Help us!" called Rena, her voice hoarse from previous entreaties. "Somebody, please help!"
Even if her cries could be heard over the rush of the water, Iolaus thought it best not to mention that the only one likely to be listening -- and probably laughing hysterically -- was Hera.
"Rena?!"
Iolaus and Iphicles exchanged startled glances at sound of the familiar voice.
"Hercules?! Hercules!! We're down here!" cried Rena.
A moment later Hercules and Jason appeared in the pit opening. Hercules immediately flopped down on his belly and reached down. "Rena, give me your hands!"
The Queen raised her arms over her head and waggled her fingers. There was a foot of empty space between her fingers and Hercules' hand.
"Jason, grab my legs!"
"Gotcha!" Jason caught Hercules by the ankles and braced himself.
Hercules carefully moved his upper torso over edge and into the pit until he could touch Rena's outstretched hand.
"Better hurry," entreated Iolaus as the icy cold water rapidly sapped the strength from his already weary limbs.
"Going up," said Hercules, and pulled with all of his might.
Iphicles and Iolaus felt the loss of Rena's weight from their shoulders and watched with open relief as Hercules hauled her to safety. A moment later Hercules reappeared and dangled once more over the edge of the pit.
"Next?"
Iolaus held his hands above the water where they could be seen and clasped them together to form a makeshift stirrup. "Royalty before nobility."
"Iolaus --"
"We don't have time to argue!" he interrupted as water lapped against his throat. "Corinth needs its King, and your son needs a father! Now get up there!"
Iphicles offered no further protest and stepped into Iolaus' hands.
Hercules caught his brother's upraised hand and strained to haul him upward. It required considerably more strength; Iphicles' weight was doubled by his water-logged clothing. Suddenly, Hercules found himself slipping forward into the pit.
"Jason!"
"I'm trying!" huffed Jason as he dug his boot heels into the ground and leaned backward.
Hercules stopped sliding forward and successfully finished hauling Iphicles to safety. His brother nodded his thanks, then wearily scrambled across to where Rena rested.
"Okay, Iolaus. Everybody out of the pool --"
But when Hercules looked back into the pit, all he could see was churning water. Iolaus was gone.
"Iolaus! IOLAUS!" Hercules strained to reach further, barely touching the surface of the water. "Lower, Jason! You have to get me lower!"
"Hercules, I can't! I'm not strong enough to do it alone..."
Suddenly Iphicles was by Jason's side. With a curt nod, he indicated that he would take sole custody of Hercules' right ankle. Jason quickly transferred all of his strength to the left ankle, and together they lowered Hercules further into the pit.
Arms extended, Hercules plunged into the icy waters. He couldn't see a thing, and blindly fished about with his hands. Suddenly his fingers brushed against something solid and instantly closed in a vice-like grip.
"PULL!" he shouted. "Hurry!"
With each of Hercules' ankles in a firm grasp, Iphicles and Jason pulled with all of their might. The weight was tremendous but they struggled valiantly to drag Hercules and his precious cargo back over the edge of the pit.
Hercules held on for dear life to the cold, limp hand within his grasp. As his brother and Jason dragged him onto solid ground, Hercules strained and heaved. A gauntlet-clad arm came into view, then a leather-clad shoulder, then Iolaus' pale face, his tangled blonde hair matted and plastered against his forehead.
All three men leaned forward, grabbed Iolaus by arms, vest, and belt, and hauled him onto solid ground.
Iolaus lay on his back on the cavern floor, bedraggled and coughing. "What were you...trying to do?" he gasped. "Break my wrist?"
Hercules laughed his relief. "Just doing a little fishing," he answered. "That is something you wanted to do during this trip, isn't it?"
Iolaus rolled his eyes. "This wasn't quite ... what I had ... in mind..."
Jason and Hercules watched as Iphicles anxiously paced the antechamber.
"You know, you're going to wear a path in that carpeting," observed Jason matter of factly.
Iphicles looked at the hourglass on the ornate mantle. "How long has it been?"
"Five minutes later than the last time you asked," replied Hercules with a knowing grin.
"You might as well relax," advised Jason sympathetically. "The baby will arrive in its own good time, and not before."
"But ... it's been so long! What if something's gone wrong??"
"Everything is going to be just fine," Hercules assured him.
"But, what if --"
"Mother is with her. If anything happens, she'll know what to do."
Iphicles nodded. "You're right. I know you're right." He looked longingly at the closed door that barred him from the bedchamber beyond. "I hope you're right."
"I am," said Hercules with conviction, and smiled to himself as Iphicles resumed pacing. No point in mentioning that it was the goddess Hestia herself who had assured him that Rena was about to give birth to a healthy, strapping baby boy.
"Hi guys. Have I missed anything?" asked Iolaus as he entered the antechamber.
Hercules treated his friend to his most disapproving look. "What are you doing out of bed?"
"Limping." Iolaus hobbled across the remainder of the chamber. Although still slightly battered looking, he was in considerably better shape than when Hercules hauled him from the pit. The cut on his head had been cleaned and the sword wound on his arm neatly bandaged. "Any word yet?"
"Not yet." Hercules nodded toward Iphicles. "The wait is driving him crazy."
"I know what he's going through," said Iolaus, his blue eyes seeing past Iphicles and into a painful past.
Hercules could only nod as he, too, thought back on the birth of his three children. He'd been just as anxious as Iphicles, and just as joyful.
"Should be any time now," said Hercules confidently.
"How do you...?" Iolaus stopped himself. "I know, I know. That secret informant of yours."
"Yup."
As if on cue, the doors to the bedchamber swung inward. Alcmene appeared in the opening, her radiant smile that of a proud grandmother.
"You can come in now," she said, and stepped aside to allow them entry.
Iphicles was gone like a horse out of a stall, barely pausing long enough to kiss Alcmene on the cheek before bolting into the bedchamber.
Through the open door, Hercules could see an ornate four-postered bed with a grand canopy but little else. The burgundy bedcurtains were drawn closed. With an eager Jason by his side, Hercules followed Iphicles into the bedchamber.
Suddenly feeling awkward and completely out of place, Iolaus hung back and watched them go.
Alcmene turned and met his gaze with a questioning expression. "Iolaus? Aren't you coming in?"
"Maybe later," he said softly, then turned and began to limp away.
A broad hand fell on his shoulder, grasped a handful of leather vest and nearly lifted him off of his feet, effectively preventing him from taking another step further.
"And just where do you think you're going?" Hercules gently chided.
"Back to my room. I should be in bed, remember? And there was an especially lovely healer ministering to my wounds..."
Although Iolaus' tone was light, Hercules heard the loneliness in his words.
"Come inside."
"I can't. It's ... it isn't right," protested Iolaus. "This is time for you to be with your family. There'll be time enough later for me to say hello to the little guy."
"Iolaus -- my stubborn, water-logged, irreplaceable friend," said Hercules fondly. "Don't you know? You are family. Blood is not the only tie that binds. You said it to me once, remember? After all we've been through, and the risks we've taken for each other -- you and I are brothers in every sense of the word. And always will be."
"You know I feel the same way about you," said Iolaus, his voice thick with emotion. "You've been all the family I've had since ... since Ania. But Iphicles and Alcmene --"
"-- share Hercules' feelings completely." Alcmene placed a gentle hand on the astonished Iolaus' bandaged arm and met his gaze with open sincerity. "A mother couldn't be more proud of her sons than I am today. I would be pleased if you would allow me to count you among them."
"Now," concluded Hercules as he slipped a companionable arm around his startled friend's shoulders. "Are you going to come inside on your own two feet to meet our nephew, or am I going to be forced to carry you?"
Iolaus nodded mutely and allowed himself to be guided into the bedchamber.
Tired but happy, Rena smiled at them as they approached her bedside. Propped up against a thick wall of pillows and covered with a warm blanket, she turned loving eyes to her husband and the new life he held within his arms.
Iphicles was positively glowing with pride. "It's a boy," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "I have a son!"
"He's beautiful," said Jason as he slipped an arm around Alcmene's slender waist and drew her close.
Hercules and Iolaus peered into the blue swaddling at the tiny face visible within. The baby yawned, not the least bit impressed that he was being observed by his famous uncle.
"Does the new Prince of Corinth have a name?," asked Hercules as he tickled the baby's chin.
Iphicles and Rena exchanged a secret, knowing glance that was not lost on those gathered before them.
"He does." Rena reached out and her fingers entwined those of her husband's free hand. "We have decided to name him after a noble warrior."
"A man who has exhibited honor, honesty, bravery and, most of all, forgiveness -- all of the traits that I hope my son will embrace." Iphicles' dark gaze fell upon Iolaus. "Were it not for that warrior, I might not have a son to name."
Iolaus blinked at him without comprehension. But Hercules understood and felt a surge of pride at the realization.
"Iolaus," he said. "You've named your son Iolaus."
Rena smiled beautifically. Iphicles nodded.
The baby's namesake blushed a deep shade of red and found himself uncharacteristically speechless.
"It's perfect." Hercules spared his friend a mischievous grin. "Let's just hope Prince Iolaus only inherited your name and not your singing voice!"
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DISCLAIMER:
Iolaus was harmed but not
irreparably damaged during
the writing of this story.
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