Day after day, the decrepit wooden ship had made a tedious passage along the coastline. Its holds were filled with valuable cargo - wine, oil, and most profitable of all - slaves. The captain, an Egyptian by birth, was cautious by nature and since his own share of the anticipated wealth depended on safely making port, he would not risk the open sea until necessary. He knew to keep the shore in view until the last possible moment, then strike out across the Mirtoan Sea to the island of Parapola. The hot sun of southern Greece beat down on the decks, tanning the sailors an even deeper shade of leather. With so many souls on board, crew and cargo, they had been forced into port several times to restock the water barrels. The last port of call before open sea would be Ermioni. Captain Sahra had given standing orders that no one except the water party could leave ship. Sad experience had taught him well that Ermioni deserved its reputation - the last time he was there, three of his sailors had ended up with slit throats. He had traveled throughout the ports of the world and a meaner place he had never discovered. But it was the last source of fresh water and he had lost too many slaves already.
As the ship crashed through the coastal waves, the below decks sloshed back and forth with several inches of seeping seawater mixed with human waste. In the tightly packed slave quarters, the stench was deathly stifling. When the hatches were briefly opened each morning, little air flowed down into the dark hold. Afraid of shipboard fire, the captain had ordered no torches left below decks. Even if the wretch chained next to you spoke your language, no one had enough spirit left to talk. The mines of Parapola used up men at a fast rate and the owners were not picky about who filled the places of the dead or from where they had been kidnapped.
In the morning, after removing the bodies of those that had died during the night, the crew tossed loaves of bread into each man's lap. A bucket of water passed down the lines of chained men. During those few moments with the hatches open, the survivors of the night gulped in the fresh sea air. Those seconds were enough to rekindle hope that someday, port would be reached, someday, an escape might be tried. But then the torches were removed, the hatches closed. In the sudden dark and silence, prayers were whispered to a dozen sea gods. The worst of all came next - splash after splash as the bodies were tossed overboard.
Perhaps being a dolphin wasn't such an awful thing, Jason thought. The stories all told that men lost at sea return as dolphins. You'd be free to swim where the current took you, riding the waves, skimming the bow of a proud vessel. Remember, remember the smell of salt air in your face. The thrill of new land on the horizon. Remember the freedom of it all. And always, the sleek dolphins leaping in the air for the sheer joy of being. Hold that memory, hold it fast, don't think about where you are and the foolishness that landed you here. And especially... but his thoughts drifted back to her anyway. To the dolphin clasp on the seafoam green dress that slipped off so easily. The smell of her hair as she reached up to kiss him. Her laugh, her soft way of making love. Think of something else. I never even said goodbye that day. That stupid, stupid day. Jason stared into the darkness, barely able to see the manacles on his wrists. If I had only said goodbye. If I had told her, somebody, anybody, where I was headed that day. If... if... if ...it was going to drive him mad. Calm down. Save your strength. Think of something else, but his thoughts always returned to her.
"I can't even remember what we were fighting about. It was nothing, a tiff. I can't believe he would leave over that." Two whole days she had waited before going to Hercules. It had seemed so silly. Words, just words and she had racked her brain to remember what had started the argument, but it had been so trivial. "But I made him angry and he stormed out. I thought he was just walking it off, like before, but it got dark and he didn't come home, Hercules. I waited until I couldn't stand the not knowing. I didn't want to bother you, but I don't know what else to do." Alcmene sat in front of his fire, her small hands twisting the hem of her dress into a knot.
Hercules sat beside her and took her hand. "Mother, this just doesn't seem like Jason. To disappear like that, worrying you. You have no idea where he was heading?" Since Jason had left, Alcmene had forced herself to believe that he was just somewhere cooling off. But she knew her son was right. Jason wouldn't worry her like this. The reality of what she hadn't let herself consider before sunk in. Jason was gone - something had happened to her beloved. Finally, the tears she had vowed not to shed spilled down her face. She sat, silently rocking, as sobs tore her apart. Hercules held her close until she sniffed and looked up at him. A wan smile crossed her face as she dried her tears. "Enough of that," she said firmly. "We are going to find him. And if he has been worrying me needlessly, I'll throw him to Cerberus."
"Iolaus and I will look for Jason, Mother. You go home in case he returns and wait for us. And trust me, if this was all for nothing, Cerberus will look good to him compared to what I will do." She nodded uncertainly and stood to leave. "Find him, Hercules. I can't bear to think of my life without him."
Iolaus tilted his head to the left. When I stand like this, he thought, the gate doesn't hang at such an odd angle. Between the post that had fallen over and the broken top hinge, his gate would barely scrape along the ground to open. He'd taken to just climbing over, but today he was determined to fix it, unless something better came along. Where's a decent monster when you need him? Just then, a hand tapped him on the shoulder. Iolaus jumped up and whirled around, fists ready to punch whatever had snuck up on him. "Nice to see you, too, Iolaus," Herc laughed.
"Don't ever do that again. I could have hurt you." Hercules looked down at Iolaus as one eyebrow shot up. "Well, I might have hurt myself then. What's up?" His face now serious, Hercules explained about Jason's disappearance. "My mother says it was the usual fight, but he's been gone for over two days now. What do you think might have happened?"
"Poor Alcmene must be beside herself. Let me think. If Jason were really angry when he left, where would he go until he calmed down?" Hercules and Iolaus looked at each other. "The ocean." "Of course." Iolaus started back towards his house. "I'll get my sword - we have to hurry. I heard slavers were raiding again along the coast since Iphicles has been away fighting the revolt in the north."
Hercules followed him, sitting at the table as Iolaus searched through the clutter. "What is all this stuff? If you would just put things in the right place when you came in instead of just dropping them....Whoa, I sound just like my mother." Iolaus held up his sword. "Found it. It was in the right place - here in the house, somewhere. Two days lead, Herc. Which way do you think we need to go?"
"The one place that Jason could never force under his control and Iphicles has been too busy up north to even try - the port at Ermioni. There's fresh water and any kind of ship is welcome, even slavers. Cutthroats, prostitutes, bars, brawling in the streets. Ever been there?" Iolaus shook his head. "No, but it sounds like fun. When we get back with Jason, will you help me fix that gate?"
"If we all get back," Hercules thought.
"Damn, damn, damn and blast." After that outburst, Captain Sahra spit overboard and wiped his beard. "Well, how long is the repair to the rudder going to take?" The unfortunate ship's carpenter wouldn't meet the captain's eye. "Two, three days at most," he said, flinching as the captain roared another oath. "By Poseidon's beard, if we are not underway by tomorrow's tide, I'll have you hanging from the prow as my new figurehead." With every day's delay, a few more slaves died. At this rate, he would have to waylay some of the town's residents to make up for the loss. And the crew would be jumping overboard to reach the temptations of Ermioni. A few of them would be dead by morning. He bellowed a round of orders to take most of the crew into port with the water party. His first mate and several of his most trusted men were sent into town to seek out the occasional poor unfortunate who could be persuaded to join his ship. As crew or cargo - he really didn't care at this point.
"Smell that salt air? Remind you of the old days?" Hercules looked at the setting sun, trying to judge how much daylight was left. One or two more hours and they should reach Ermioni. Knowing that if Jason were on board a slave ship and all hope of finding him would be lost once it sailed, they had journeyed as fast as possible to the coast. Travelers along the way had told of near misses with a slaver raiding party so at least they knew they were headed in the right direction.
Iolaus bent over, breathing deeply. Keeping up with Hercules was always hard work - he never seemed to get tired. "That's the way you looked the first few days on the Argo, Iolaus. I've never seen anyone so seasick." Iolaus straightened and glared at Hercules. "Thanks for reminding me, Herc. As I recall, I got my sea legs pretty quick." Hercules shook his head. "No, it was a week after we sailed before you ever left your bunk. The crew was ready to throw you overboard to the sharks."
"A long time ago, but I remember - you and Jason stood up to them. We've got to rescue him, Hercules. Jason won't last long in chains. Any ideas on how we are going to find him once we reach Ermioni?" Hercules stared at the horizon where the first evening star had appeared. He waited, trying to phrase his plan in the best possible way. All his other ideas he had rejected as unworkable. But Iolaus was not going to like what was in store for him.
Long before Hercules reached the city gates, the stench of Ermioni washed over him. Rotting fish and seaweed mixed with raw sewage running through the crowded lanes. Houses leaned against each other - each of them threatening to be the first to tumble to the ground. And the noise - everywhere, men were shouting, fighting, pushing, each one more drunk than the next. In the short while he had been in town, Hercules had seen three knives pulled over minor disagreements, although cooler heads had prevailed before the fights turned bloody. He now stood near the waterfront watching the crowd flow up and down. Only three ships were in harbor and it hadn't been too difficult to pick out the slaver. Sails full of holes, rotting planking - it didn't look as though it could limp out of port. Only the occasional sailor appeared silhouetted against the deck torches. Hercules had already discovered most of the crew was in the tavern before him. It's the only way he reminded himself as he swung through the door.
He pushed his way through the throng to the bar and ordered six ales - line them up. The bartender spit on the floor and demanded to see his money first. Hercules reached over the wooden bar, grabbed the man by his shirt, and hoisted him into the air with one hand. "I will pay when I am good and damn ready." He dropped the bartender who began pouring drinks and pushing them in his direction. Hercules drank the first one in a single gulp and threw the mug down. "Next," he yelled, "and keep them coming. I hope this is my last night on this stinking shore and I want to go out fighting."
A tall man strolled over to where Hercules was grinding the mug into the floor. "That can probably be arranged, stranger. You looking for a place on board a ship? I'm Agras, first mate on the slave ship in the harbor. Our captain sent us out to round up some new blood. You ever sailed before?" Hercules looked him up and down, grabbed his arm, and pulled his face close. "I don't usually like to brag, you see," and he guffawed loudly, "but I sailed with the Argonauts after the Golden Fleece."
The sailor smirked at the boast. "If every man that said he was with Jason had been on the Argo, it would have sunk to the bottom." Eyes narrowing, Hercules drew his sword and held it to the mate's throat. "Are you calling me a liar? Cause if you are, I am going to slit you top to bottom."
Agras held up his hands and backed away. "Whoa, stranger. Just making conversation. If you need a berth, I'm your man. Got a hold full of slaves headed for Parapola and we're running short of crew. If you survive tonight, meet me at the wharf in the morning and I'll take you aboard." Hercules grinned and returned the sword to its sheath. "Oh, I'll make it through the night and I have another addition to your cargo. Little runt I picked up outside of town. He'll be just right for the mines on Parapola. Short, you know. Won't bang his head. Course I had to rough him up a bit to convince him to come along. He'll be worth a few dinars. Keep em coming, bar keep." As he clasped hands with the sailor, Hercules knew the sick feeling in his stomach wasn't from the lousy ale.
Hercules had been gone for several hours. Iolaus tried to sleep, but knowing what he faced, he couldn't close his eyes. The moon rose, a mere sliver in the sky as the stars whirled overhead. He rubbed his face, then sat, hugging his knees. There has to be another way to find Jason and bring him home. I can't do this. Think, Iolaus. But when Hercules returned, he still hadn't come up with a better plan.
"Well?" Hercules felt he should give his friend one last chance to back out. "Did you find the...um...what we needed?" Iolaus asked quietly. Hercules nodded and stared off in the distance, dreading what he was about to do. One last look at the night sky and Iolaus stood, hands at his sides. "I'm ready." Hercules curled his hand into a fist and punched Iolaus to the ground. Iolaus wiped his split lip and stood. He nodded at Hercules who hit him again. After a while, Iolaus pushed up on his hands and knees, spitting blood. But it was not until Hercules fastened the manacles on his wrists that a groan finally escaped him.
Ermioni in daylight was, if possible, even worse than the night before. Dead men lay in the streets where they had fallen. Sailors staggered out of taverns and whorehouses, slowly making their way to the wharf. The tall first mate from the night before sat in the stern of a long rowboat. As Hercules dragged Iolaus along the wharf, the sailor laughed. "Hey, Argonaut, is that the best you could do? Shorty won't last ten minutes on Parapola."
When Iolaus struggled to run, Hercules picked him up and threw him in the bottom of the boat. "He'll last long enough to make me a few dinars." Hercules pulled Iolaus up and chained him to one of the benches. The face that looked up at him was almost unrecognizable. One eye was swollen nearly shut; both were ringed with black. Dried blood trailed through the stubble on his chin. With a shock, Hercules hid a grin as Iolaus winked his one good eye. "He's mine," he whispered.
Captain Sahra looked over his crew as they stood assembled on deck. A few faces were missing, but he was pleased with the new man. "Toss him below with the others," he yelled at Hercules. "You can carry out the dead ones while you are down there. After that, help fill the water barrels. We leave when the next tide turns." After lighting a torch, Hercules opened the hatch and shoved Iolaus down the short flights of stairs, followed by one of the crew. Although the torchlight didn't penetrate far in the gloom, the reality of the slave hold nearly overwhelmed him. Three dozen or so men sat in the bilge water, arms chained to posts behind them. He pushed Iolaus along the rows, waving his torch from side to side to see the faces. Just when Hercules had given up on finding Jason aboard, Iolaus nodded towards the other wall, then fell in that direction. Hercules dragged him through the water and propped him near Jason. When the torch flare lit up Hercules' face, Jason started up, full of questions, but sat back rapidly when Iolaus shook his head. While Hercules was fastening him to the post, Iolaus looked over at Jason with a ghastly lopsided grin.
Hercules walked over to the sailor that had followed him into the hold. "Don't seem to be any dead ones this morning. This lot may live long enough to see their new home. What's next?" The sailor pointed to a wooden barrel. "We feed them, if you can call that wormy biscuit food. And water. I'll fetch the bucket - pass these loaves out." When the sailor left the hold, Hercules crossed back to Jason. Even in the gloom, Hercules could see his broad smile. "The gods may have forsaken me, but I knew my friends wouldn't. Alcmene? Iolaus, what happened to you?"
Hercules pulled on the chains. "She was fine when we left. Worried sick about you." He nodded towards Iolaus. "This is part of what I came up with to get you out of here. Of course, next time, Iolaus gets to make up the plan." The sailor returned, water bucket sloshing. "What are you doing over there? I told you to pass out the ration." Hercules yanked on the chains again. "This runt was still trying to give me trouble. But he's gonna be right here for the rest of this trip."
"Pass out this biscuit and come topside. And bring the torch. Captain don't want no fires." Hercules went through the rows of men. As he knelt down and looked in their faces, he realized they had been brought here from many lands. Most were feeble, not likely to last long in these brutal surroundings. Others still fought at their chains, trying to escape the blows that they expected. A few words in these men's ears were all that was necessary. Men who had abandoned all hope looked up with renewed spirit. "Just give us a chance," one man said. "We'll go down fighting if need be. But to die in chains..." Maybe nine good men in all, Hercules thought, plus Iolaus and Jason. Rough odds by the numbers but these men were fighting for their lives.
After Hercules left for the topside, carrying the torch away, Iolaus slowly leaned back against the post that held him fast. Even in port, the ship rocked steadily against its anchors, rising and falling with the waves. He knew it was only a matter of time before his stomach rebelled and the sea sickness would strike. Despite the lie he told, he remembered well the long days on the Argo when he would sooner have died. He had never been a willing sailor; only his friendship with Hercules had convinced him to join Jason's quest long ago. Closing his eyes against the darkness that pressed in, he swallowed hard against the first sudden shot of fear. This is not your first time in chains, he reminded himself. You've been in dungeons. This is no different. Still, he found that each breath was more difficult than the one before. A few hours at most, Hercules had promised, just a few hours while he narrowed the odds by getting rid of some of the crew and finding the weapons' store. But if something happened to Hercules, he would be chained to this ship for days, probably in chains forever. It won't happen, he told himself, it can't happen. Still he began holding each breath, trying to calm himself. Already, his hands were shaking....
The fear had hit him during his first storm at sea. With waves crashing onto the Argo's decks, all hands had been ordered below. As he sat in the cold and dark, hearing the wind tearing the sails and the masts threatening to splinter, the veteran sailors told tales of shipwreck, of ships lost with all hands, of finding bloated, green bodies days later along the coast. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe - there was no air left in the hold and he had run up on deck, into the teeth of the storm. Hours later, Jason had found him, hands clinched around a rope, half dead with cold and exhaustion. From then on, no matter how foul the weather, he had to be on the Argo's deck. He could force himself for a short while into the holds, but each time was a struggle against overwhelming panic. And, now, he was chained to this rotting hulk that didn't look as though it could make it through the slightest storm. He was helpless against being pulled beneath the waves to drown. He clinched his fists, nails digging into his palms. I won't give into this, not this time, he vowed.
"Iolaus?" No reply. Jason tried again. "Iolaus?" Jason could hear his ragged breathing, knew he was hearing his voice. What was wrong with him? From long ago, the memory of a storm's aftermath...Iolaus' hands frozen to a rope, how he had pried his fingers loose one by one, wrapped him in a blanket, and forced him to go below to the galley fire. The courage it has taken him to be here, Jason thought. Thank the gods for such a friend. Jason quietly began talking, willing Iolaus to listen, to not lose himself in his fear. "I guess Alcmene will have a few choice words for me when we return," Jason began. "She is an amazing woman, Iolaus. All these years, facing up to Hera's jealousy. She thinks so much of you, knowing how you watch out for her son. She would be so proud of you now." Iolaus slowly sat up, half listening to Jason. He tried to concentrate on his words; anything was better than this dread. Alcmene wouldn't be very proud of me right now, if she could see me.
"On the quest for the fleece," Jason continued, "if you two were near me in battle, I never worried about dying. Sometimes I think the three of us could have brought it back by ourselves. But then we wouldn't have the other Argonauts singing our fame throughout the world, would we? What was the name of the scribe that kept writing down the details?" Jason paused, waiting for him to answer.
What? Jason had stopped talking. Oh, he asked a question.
"Um....Archivus," he answered shakily, his own voice sounding loud in the dark. "Yeah, Archivus. He always leaves me off the crew roster. Little weasel can't remember how to spell my name, he says. Euryalus, son of Mecisteus, no problem, that he can remember. But not Iolaus, not my name." Jason began laughing, flooded with relief. After a shocked silence, Iolaus joined in. The nameless fear receded somewhat, and for a time, he could almost think clearly again. "If things don't go right today and we stay ...here...where we are...," he rushed along, dreading the answer, "how many days until we reach Parapola?" Now he would know the worst. "With a good wind, eight days to sail from Ermioni to Parapola," Jason replied. He heard the soft gasp of pain and shook his head. Iolaus would never last that long.
Most of the morning, Hercules had hoisted water barrels aboard and pushed them into the holds below. Walking through the lower decks, he had learned the location of the weapons' store. The heavy wooden door was chained and locked, as was the entrance to the hold full of oil and wine filled amphorae.
His plan after getting both of them aboard had always been a little uncertain, although he had tried unsuccessfully to hide that fact from Iolaus. The crew was at a strength of about two dozen, plus the captain. Twenty-five against twelve or so men, armed with just one sword. Just the kind of odds Iolaus preferred, but Hercules had a scheme to take out at least a few of the crew members before the fight could get under way.
Sometimes, it was just too easy. Helping move one of the heavy water barrels through the narrow passages, Hercules simply rolled it over the mate's foot. With a couple of broken bones, he was well out of the fight. One down and twenty-four to go, he thought. Who else needed to have an accident? Up on deck, no one else around, a sudden turn, an outstretched elbow, and another sailor falls overboard. Happens all the time. Climbing the rigging, foot slips, and one more down. Way down there by the looks of him. But it was adding a few leftover wormy loaves soaked in the filthy bilge water to the crew's soup that had proven most effective. By the early afternoon, seven sailors were heaving their guts over the side. He smiled to himself as he thought that Iolaus would feel right at home, then grew suddenly angry as he remembered how he had left him chained below. Courage, my friend. Be patient. Now for the rest of his plan....
Hercules looked carefully to the left and right. Most of the crew was involved with the last minute storage of provisions for the sea voyage. It was time to free the prisoners below. He turned to the hatch cover and was sliding the latch open, when Agras yelled orders at him. "Argonaut, back to the stern. Help the carpenter finish his repairs. We leave when the tide turns."
The heavy piece of wood was being lowered into place, ready for fastening to the rudder stock. Hercules held onto the fraying rope, hoping it would break under the weight, but the rudder came to rest in place and the carpenter lashed it in position. Now there was nothing to prevent the ship from leaving port - he couldn't delay any longer. Moving as inconspicuously as possible, Hercules returned to the slave hold. Iolaus was so much better at being stealthy, he thought. Lighting a torch, he stepped into the gloom. So far, no alarm had been raised. He went over to Iolaus and knelt in the filthy water.
"Get me out of here and I want my sword." Iolaus lunged for Hercules' throat and only the chain prevented him from latching on. Hercules grabbed his wrists and looked over at Jason, who watched with concern. "I did my best, Hercules, but if you free him, you can sit back, and watch him take on the slavers all by himself." Hercules put his hand on Iolaus' shoulder and shook him roughly. "Calm down, my friend. Iolaus, are you listening to me?" Two fierce blue eyes burned into him with some recognition, some panic. Finally, Iolaus took a deep, shuddering breath. "Unchain me, give me a weapon, and let me fight my way out of here. Please."
Hercules took the sword and buried it in the post's rotten wood. A few minutes digging and the ring fell free. Iolaus knelt, watching Hercules as he slowly pried the manacles loose. Only a great effort kept him from shouting as they fell away. Hercules studied his face, afraid of what he would find, now that he was free. He couldn't have Iolaus running up on deck, challenging all comers. And he knew Iolaus couldn't survive being restrained again. Calmly, Iolaus held out his hand for his sword. Hercules nodded, handed the sword over, and went to free the rest of the men. Iolaus turned to where Jason was chained and began digging at the post behind him. "I don't know how to...," he started, then hesitated, searching for words. "I need to thank you for keeping me from..." Jason cut him off. "Son, you fought your fear by yourself. I just reminded you that you were not alone. You are an Argonaut, Iolaus. Not much of a sailor, I warrant, but a brave fighter, none the less."
The men still able to fight lined up behind Jason. Hercules slowly opened the hatch cover and slipped out, followed by Iolaus. Jason remained below, waiting for their signal, trying to organize his band into some sort of fighting group. At the door to the weapons, Iolaus kept watch while Hercules pulled at the chains. He was almost at the end of his strength when they finally broke and they could push the heavy door open. Racks of rusty swords lay inside. They gathered up as many as each could carry and returned to arm the others.
Still no alarm, but they knew their luck could not hold out forever; Hercules realized that he would be missed when it was time to set sail. He grabbed the torch and quickly led the way back down to the cargo hold. Soon that door had given way as well. Rows of clay amphorae stood in wooden racks, each carefully packed in a bed of straw. Iolaus lifted one up, dug out the wax seal, and pried out the cork. He dipped in a finger and tasted the liquid, quickly spitting it out. "It's olive oil and it's going rancid. I hope the wine is in better shape." Hercules laughed. "We aren't going to have time to sample the wine. Spill that out on the floor here. Spread out some straw." With the door closed, the fire they were ready to set would not spread too rapidly through the ship. At least that was the plan. He looked at Iolaus. "This is it. There's no turning back once this is lit." "There never has been," Iolaus replied. Hercules swung the torch close to the straw. It caught, heavily smoking, then flaring noisily as the oil began to burn. Once outside the door, Hercules pulled it closed, then turned to see Iolaus crossing swords with the first mate. Agras curled his lip as Iolaus motioned for him to back up. "So Argonaut, looks like your little slave has escaped. Of course, you don't look too upset about that now, do you? What is this about?"
"It's about not holding men in chains." Iolaus brought his sword down and forced Agras to take a step back. "It's about kidnapping my friend." He thrust under the other man's sword, cutting his chest, leaving his shirt hanging. Agras rapidly returned his onslaught, arching his sword down from a greater height. Iolaus quickly moved back, stumbling into Hercules. Iolaus swung around, yelling at Hercules to get out of the way, then returned to the battle. In the small passageway, the clanging swords were loud, ringing through the ship. Tendrils of smoke leaked from under the door, but the fighters took no notice. Agras continued to press forward, his sword cutting a gash in Iolaus' arm, forcing him back into the smoke. Sensing his advantage, Agras laughed. "Now I will have you in chains again."
"No," Iolaus shouted and he began furiously, desperately to attack. Step by hard fought step, he forced Agras to retreat until the mate's back pressed against the wall. Slashing upwards to stop Agras' thrust, he brought his sword against the mate's chest, just below the breastbone. "Surrender or die," he yelled. "Drop your sword." Agras hesitated, then held his arms out to the side and let his sword fall to the floor. Iolaus forced him to kneel in the passageway, then began searching for something to bind his hands. As Hercules reached over to pick up the sword, Agras drew a small dagger from his boot and threw it at his throat. Sensing the movement, Hercules slammed himself against the wall and the knife stuck in the wood behind him. By the time he turned, Iolaus had run Agras through. As he watched, the slaver's head slowly fell forward, hands reaching in a vain attempt to stop the flow of blood. Iolaus pulled his sword out and Agras crumbled to the floor. A cold chill ran through Hercules as a look of triumph crossed Iolaus' face, although in a few moments, it was gone. Iolaus leaned on his sword, breathing heavily. Slowly, as if drugged, he looked up as Hercules tore a strip of his shirt and wrapped it around the bleeding arm. "That's a nasty wound," Hercules told him. "It'll need some attention once we reach Ermioni. Let's get out of here. Jason and his men will need our help with the rest of the crew." Still Iolaus stood, staring down at the body. Hercules took him by the arm and dragged him out of the thick smoke.
Up on deck, the battle still raged. All over the ship, pairs of men stood face to face, swords reaching for possible kills. Smoke billowed up from below, although the fire had not yet reached the top deck. Looking over the groups of men, Hercules found Jason holding off two of the crew. Yelling, he ran to his aid, grabbing and throwing one of the sailors overboard. Jason forced the other to drop his sword. A forlorn group of slavers stood in the middle of the deck, closely guarded by their former captives, and Jason herded his opponent into their midst. Over his shoulder, he shouted, "Where's Iolaus? This is just like the old days." He took off after Captain Sahra, who was threatening one of his men. Jason pushed him out of harm's way and took up his position. "Surrender your ship, captain. You imprisoned the wrong man when you took me captive. My friends would never have rested until I was a free man again."
"And just who are you?" Captain Sahra asked. "Jason, leader of the Argonauts, former king of Corinth," he threw back at him. For a moment, Sahra considered surrendering, but after surveying the battle, decided that he had the advantage. He was a fierce fighter, constantly attacking and probing for a weak point, but Jason had fought better men than he. Soon the captain was on his knees. Holding his sword to the captain's throat, Jason forced him to turn over the ship to his command. As the rest of the crew realized they had lost, they threw down their weapons and stood, hands in the air. Cheering and yelling, the freed men gladly tied up what was left of the slavers.
The fire reached the door to the holds and shot into the air as it collapsed and air began feeding the flames. Hercules realized they had to either fight the fire before it got completely out of control or abandon ship. Jason ran over to him, pushing the captain along. "It's quite a prize, you know. Shall we put out the fire and take her back to Corinth? With some work, she could be an honest trading vessel. It would be worth quite a bit of money for Iolaus and you."
Hercules had lost track of Iolaus in the fighting. He hoped he had kept well out of the way, between his state of mind and his wounded arm. But no, Iolaus came along the deck, bloody sword pointed at two crew members. After adding them to the group of captives, he walked over to join them. Hercules shouted into his ear over the roar of the flames. "Jason thinks we can still save the ship and sail it back to Corinth. It could be worth a great deal once it's repaired. What do you want to do?"
"Let it burn," he said and went over to help the survivors into the rowboat.
Jason had arranged for a messenger to take the news of his release to Alcmene, so they were not surprised to see her standing in the road some distance from Corinth. She ran to Jason, held him at arm's length to make sure that he was unharmed, then kissed him as though she would never let him go. Just as he pulled away laughing, she slapped him hard enough to turn his head. "Don't you ever worry me like that again," she said and began crying. He took her in his arms and held her tight. "Never, my love. Never again." After a long while, she turned to Hercules and hugged him, crying out her gratitude.
Iolaus slowly walked away from the trio. In a few minutes, they caught up with him and Alcmene hugged him as well, then looked at his face. He wouldn't meet her gaze and pulled away. But she held onto his hand and touched his cheek. "You brought him back to me. How can I ever thank you? Oh my, Iolaus, your poor face. That arm is still bleeding and it's filthy, too." Disgusted, she turned to Jason and Hercules. "What is wrong with the pair of you ? Couldn't you have gotten him to a physician?" Hercules laid a hand on her shoulder to quiet her protests. "He wouldn't let any one look at his arm in Ermioni. He just wanted to get home as soon as possible. I'm sure you will take good care of him. It was not an easy victory, Mother." Something in his voice made her turn to look at Iolaus once again. After marriage to two soldiers, she realized not all his wounds from this fight were visible - this man was too subdued, too quiet to be the Iolaus that she knew. She squeezed his hand again and went back to walk with Jason.
Back at Corinth, she gathered her medicines and supplies. After sending them all off for long soaks and clean clothes, she was waiting to dress Iolaus' arm. He came in, hair slicked back, somewhat uneasy in the unaccustomed robe that trailed too long on the ground. She smiled at him. "That's better, but I think you need a belt. Come sit here at the light." She eased his arm out of the sleeve and looked at the gory bandage. "Looks like part of my son's undershirt. I know what I'll be sewing tomorrow. This will hurt - it looks like a deep gash. I may have to do some stitches to stop the bleeding." Iolaus looked at the wound as though noticing it for the first time. He watched as she unwrapped the bandage and pulled it off, then looked away. Relieved, she noted no signs of infection, but it was going to need stitching. "Well, it is too deep to stop bleeding on its own," she told him. "I'm so sorry." She went to her basket for a needle.
"He's dead," Iolaus mumbled. Alcmene leaned closer. "What, dear? I didn't hear you."
"The man who did this. I killed him. He's dead. He had surrendered. I looked away for a second and he threw a knife at Hercules, so I killed him."
So, Alcmene realized, he'd had to kill a man on the ship at Ermioni. That was why his eyes were so clouded with pain, why he was acting so strangely. "But it sounds like you had no choice, Iolaus, if he was still trying to hurt you. You saved my son's life." He rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the memory. "You don't understand. I wanted him dead. All the hours I was down in that hold, I thought about killing him. Over and over. Then, suddenly, there he was in the passage and we fought and he had surrendered. He had a knife in his boot and then all I knew was that my sword was through him. And I enjoyed watching him die. It felt so right. Just for a moment, but now..." He turned away from her. "How can I live with that?"
She took his face between her hands and forced him to look at her. "Iolaus, if you had really wanted to kill him, you would have done so outright in battle, but you didn't. You gave him a chance to surrender. He forced your hand. You can't blame yourself for his death." She looked up at Jason, who was leaning on the door frame. "How much did you hear?" she asked. "Enough," he replied. He dragged a chair over to where they were sitting. "Iolaus, I have known you since the days of the Argo. I know your heart. No matter the cause, no matter how desperate the battle, you never killed when it could be prevented. Tell me now, if you could have done anything differently that day." Iolaus shook his head. "I thought he had stabbed Hercules." "Then look at me, Iolaus. Sometimes an evil is so great that when it is finally dead, you cannot help but triumph in your victory. You did not rejoice over the death of your enemy at that moment, but in preventing what he was trying to do. Look into your heart, son. You will see that I am right." He stood and left the room. Iolaus sat motionless, pondering Jason's words, reliving the scene in his mind. In the depths of his eyes, she could see his struggle. Alcmene fussed through her sewing, only managing to tangle threads and stick herself with a pin. Finally, she threaded her needle with fine sutures and put her hand on his shoulder to turn him into the light. "What? No painkillers before you sew me up?" She glanced at him and, blessedly, he was almost smiling. She brushed a lock of stray hair from his forehead. "You take such good care of all of us, Iolaus. Who takes care of you?" He reached for her hand and kissed it.
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