The men gathered around the table in Tiryns' inn burst into loud laughter, slapping their knees and the backs of their companions in unrestrained merriment.
"And then," Iolaus put in, gasping through his own laughter, "Hercules says...says to this brute...." A fit of giggles overwhelmed him and he couldn't get the words out.
"What did you say, Hercules, old friend?" asked Crydon, choking on chuckles.
Hercules shrugged helplessly, grinning from ear to ear. "I don't recall that I said anything," he answered.
"Oh yes, you did!" Iolaus insisted, having caught his breath. "You said, 'Why don't you...pick on someone...your own size'," he got out, between bursts of laughter. The last few words came out in a wheeze as he lost his breath again.
The roar of laughter that erupted almost lifted the roof of the tavern. The revelers leaned against each other, weak with mirth. It was several moments before anyone could speak coherently.
At last, Terces said, "That's the best story I've heard yet, Hercules!"
Still grinning, Hercules swallowed the last of his wine. "Then you should give the credit to Iolaus, not me."
"Why?"
"Because ever time he tells a story, the tale gains in the telling, usually to his credit," Hercules answered with a friendly poke in his blond companion's chest.
"Aw, come on, Hercules, don't be so modest," Iolaus protested, still laughing. "If it was left up to you, you'd never tell the half of anything."
"Your half, maybe," Hercules said. With a wink at the others around the table, he added, "I swear to Zeus, Iolaus, someone needs to adjust your thinking a little. You're much too full of yourself these days."
"Oho!" Iolaus returned. "Are you man enough to try?"
"Ooooh!" groaned several of the men around the table. "Tight shot! Now you've done it, Hercules! You can't let a challenge like that pass."
"Sure I can," Hercules replied, leaning back in his chair. "Iolaus knows I won't fight him."
"What if I fight him for you?" Crydon asked, his smile a trifle strained. "'Isn't that what friends are for?"
While Iolaus straightened a little with a defensive glower, Hercules shook his head. "Not to fight each other, that's for sure."
"Not even on another friend's behalf?" Crydon asked, eying Iolaus whose soberness was no longer feigned.
"Especially not then," Hercules said. He looked around the table. "I think the party's over. Sorry to break this up, but Iolaus and I have an appointment with a lake full of fish tomorrow morning and I need my sleep because he believes in being on the water at the crack of dawn."
Amid good-natured bantering, the half-dozen men rose and left the tavern. Watching them disappear, Hercules said in a low voice, "Iolaus, I really wish you wouldn't put me on the spot like that."
"Like what? Just because I embellish a little? They love it. And they expect it of you," Iolaus retorted, a little defensively.
"Maybe they do. But you put too much of yourself in it. Why do it, Iolaus? You have a well-deserved reputation of your own. You don't have any reason to swing on my tunic."
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Iolaus drew back to study his friend with a frown.
Hercules clapped him on the shoulder. "No, I guess not. I'm sorry, Iolaus. I guess I'm just tired. Let's go back to your place...I'm almost asleep on my feet."
"In a little while. I have to see a couple of people first. You go on. I'll meet you there." Iolaus watched his tall friend leave the tavern, and the frown returned to his face. There was an element of unease in it that hadn't been there before.
Hercules wandered the lanes of Tiryns, yawning sleepily, until he came to the small house behind Iolaus' forge. Just at the door he was stopped by a man who stepped out of the shadows.
"Terces," Hercules acknowledged. "It's late, my friend...."
"I know," Terces interrupted. "But I wanted to see you away from the others. It's about Crydon."
"What about him?" Hercules asked as he folded his arms and leaned against the doorway behind him.
"It's this hero worship thing he has for you," Terces said. "You saw it tonight; he thinks he has to jump to your defense no matter what the provocation. I used to laugh it off, but lately he's become a little obsessive about it. You're all he talks about."
Hercules straightened and shrugged. "He's your brother, Terces. Talk to him. I'm sure you can make him see reason."
"I can't ever get him alone long enough to talk to him. He follows you like a lost dog. I had to wait until he was asleep and then slip out to find you."
"Terces, don't worry about Crydon," Hercules replied. "I'm used to it. I deal with it all the time. But right now I'm tired and I'm supposed to meet Iolaus so we can make plans for tomorrow. When I come back tomorrow evening, I'll have a talk with Crydon." He turned and ducked through the doorway into the darkened house. There was a light burning in a rear room and he went there, but Iolaus was nowhere in sight.
Hercules sighed, turned, and bumped squarely into Terces who had followed him in.
Beyond them, a shadow moved through the entryway but ducked into a curtained recess when Terces said, "Come on, Hercules, how long are you going to put up with this?"
"I don't know what you mean," Hercules said with a sigh of strained patience.
"Yes, you do. He goes around telling everyone he's your best friend, your oldest and dearest companion...."
"What if he does? I've known him since we were both children."
"But he claims a special friendship. 'Comrades-in-arms' is the way he refers to it. 'Fellow warriors.' To listen to him, if you didn't know him, you'd think he'd saved your life in every battle you've ever been in."
"And I still say 'so what'?" Hercules retorted. "It doesn't hurt me to humor him. He means well, in his own way, and if claiming a bond with me helps him think better of himself, then it's all to the good."
"Then there is no bond?"
"Of course not," Hercules said, moving toward the door. "He's a good man and I'd trust him in battle. But anything else is just his imagination and anyone who knows him knows it's just his imagination. It would serve no purpose for me to disillusion him, Terces. I'm not in the habit of destroying someone's fantasies for the sake of my own ego." He stepped around Terces and strode into the outer room. "I think I'll take a walk and come back later." He bent his head and went through the door with Terces on his heels, still muttering, "But I don't see why...."
The slight breeze of their passing fluttered the curtain half-drawn over the niche beside the inner door. Behind it, Iolaus stood, frozen. Or paralyzed. He couldn't decide which. He had no clear thought of anything except that his body suddenly seemed very, very heavy. His arms hung limply at his sides and his legs felt like pillars of lead driven into the ground. Inside him, there was an enormous emptiness that throbbed with a pain that was crushing the breath out of this lungs. He was so sure that the emptiness was where his heart used to be that he looked down, fully expecting to see it lying shattered on the floor.
But there was nothing there. Nothing anywhere. Just that horrible aching void. He wondered how anything so empty could hurt so much.
At last, he moved. He still felt heavy, but he also felt extremely fragile as if he was made of glass. Any slight bump or jar might break him into a million pieces.
He walked, slowly and carefully, into the back room and stood looking around, dazed, as if he saw nothing but dreams and phantoms. Then he went to a shelf and took down a carrysack. Slowly, all his movements delicate and carefully controlled, he began to stuff random items into the sack -- a shirt, an extra pair of boots, a cloak, half a loaf of bread wrappred in a linen cloth. He had no clear purpose to what he was doing, but gradually it came to him that he was packing to go on a journey. A long journey, far away from Tiryns and from everyone he knew. He wanted, merely, to be somewhere else and as soon as he could manage it.
A movement behind him made him pause. With his back to the door, he couldn't see who had come in. But he was sure he knew.
"Iolaus," Hercules said. "I came in a while ago, but you weren't here."
The sound of the voice was like a scab being ripped off of a deep wound. The pain was sudden, sharp, and it was followed by a sensation of copious bleeding. Iolaus was dimly aware of the warm, salty moisture dripping down his face. But he made no sound nor did he turn. He simply went on packing.
At his elbow, Hercules commented, "Why are you taking all that stuff? The lake is only half an hour away and we weren't planning to stay overnight."
"I can't go fishing, Hercules," Iolaus said, faintly astounded to hear that his voice was perfectly calm and normal. "I have to leave. Tonight. Now."
"Why?" Hercules asked with sudden concern.
"Someone...is gone. Someone I cared about," Iolaus answered, cinching the carrysack closed.
Hercules put a hand on his friends' arm. "Iolaus...I'm so sorry! Who was it?"
"No one you knew," Iolaus said. "His name was...Phlegon."
Hercules pulled him around, prepared to offer condolences. But when Iolaus was turned in his direction, as unresisting as a rag, Hercules wasn't prepared for the look on his friend's face. That well-known countenance was white, the blue eyes glazed and staring at nothing; only later did the son of Zeus realize that, during the entire conversation, not once did Iolaus look directly at him. Now, he was deeply concerned by the tears that streamed from the blue eyes like water pouring over a dam and with as little conscious awareness.
His grip tightened. "Iolaus...let me come with you...help you through this...."
Iolaus pulled away gently as if freeing himself from some mere inconvenience in his path. "No, I'll be fine. I want to go alone."
"Where?"
"Cusa," Iolaus said after a moment. "The village of Cusa. He lived there. I'll be gone a long time. I'll need to stay...help his family...his children...." He stopped, hearing himself almost babbling.
"When did you hear of his death?" Hercules asked compassionately.
"Just now. A messenger stopped me in the street." Iolaus stepped around him. "I have to leave now." He paused by the door, caught up his sheathed sword and flipped it up to balance it across his shoulder.
"Iolaus...."
"No!" Iolaus said sharply without stopping or turning. "Leave me alone. Let me go!" He almost ran from the house.
Looking after him, Hercules shook his head, full of pity. Something else was disturbing him, but he couldn't think what it was.
Iolaus wandered from place to place after leaving Tiryns, unsure of where he was, only that no matter where it was, he wanted to be someplace else. He spoke to no one and, after catching a glimpse of his grimly set face, no one spoke to him. He walked until he was staggering from weariness. He was faint from hunger but, beyond a bite or two, food sickened him. The days strung out behind him, fading to a blur of non-thought and non-feeling. Only the words he'd heard his friend say to Terces repeated themselves over and over in his mind like a clanging litany until they became the senseless syllables of a nightmare.
At last, one night as unmarked as all the rest, in a deep forest far from any human habitation, he stopped in a clearing and made a fire. Then he sat beside it, chin propped in one hand, poking idly at the burning coals with a stick held in his other hand. At length, he glanced at the looming darkness on the other side of the fire.
In it, he seemed to see Hercules as he had seen his erstwhile friend countless times before -- talking, laughing, sharing the stories and reminiscences of their lives. Then the phantom faded and Iolaus thought of all the lonely years to come, all the solitary fires he would sit by, all the silences unrelieved by the sound of a friendly voice, all the hardships of life unlightened by the glow of a friendly smile.
He didn't realize he was crying until it was too late to stop himself. Angrily he turned away from the fire, then doubled his fist and beat it savagely against the tree trunk beside him. But it was useless. The weeping shook him as the pain penetrated at last -- the devastating pain he'd tried to run away from. And it came to him that he wasn't crying for something lost but for something that had never existed.
In the cool dawnlight, Hercules sat looking at the sleeping man as he turned the quail on the spit over the fire. Iolaus lay on his side, his head pillowed on a curved arm, his cloak thrown over him carelessly. His face was pale and pinched, and there was a quality of helplessness to it that tore at Hercules' heart.
At last, Iolaus stirred and woke. He sighed faintly and stretched. Then he looked up and saw Hercules watching him. For an instant, he wondered if he was hallucinating; so powerful had been the vision of the night before that he was sure he was still dreaming. He blinked, but the apparition didn't vanish. Iolaus sat up slowly.
Hercules indicated the browning quail. "You look like you could use some food," he said gently.
Still staring at him, Iolaus said, "What are you doing here?"
"I might ask you the same question," Hercules replied. "You're miles from Cusa."
Iolaus drew his cloak around him as he looked away. "I had to go somewhere else first."
"But you told me you had to get to Cusa right away," Hercules pointed out. "Your friend...."
"Pheron," Iolaus supplied quickly.
"Pheron? I thought you said his name was Phlegon?"
"Phlegon, yeah. He...goes by both names. I forget which one he prefers...preferred."
Hercules shook his head. "Iolaus, come on! A dear friend dies so suddenly that you're totally distraught and you can't even remember his name?"
"I haven't seen him in a while."
"How long?"
"Years."
"Uh huh. You haven't seen him for years, but when I came to your house that night, you were crying like your heart was torn apart. Iolaus, be straight with me...."
Iolaus lurched to his feet in sudden anger, a clean fury that made everything around him stand out sharply. "What's with this interrogation?" he demanded. "What's it to you anyway what I was crying about?"
"Because, my friend, I went to Cusa the next day," Hercules said levelly. "You were so upset that I wanted to be there for you, in spite of what you said." He paused. "I asked around. There's no one in Cusa named Phlegon and Pheron or any other name you can invent. There never has been."
"He...he doesn't live in Cusa. He has a farm, in an outlying district..."
"Iolaus, please! Give it up! You never were a very good liar and you're not getting any better at it."
Iolaus swung away from him, then bent and snatched up his carrysack. "I don't have to listen to this! I'm leaving!"
"To go where? Back to some other village to visit the family of some other deceased imaginary friend whose name you can't remember?"
"Where I go and why is my business!"
Hercules sighed patiently. "At least eat something before you go," he pleaded. "You look like you haven't had a square meal for days...."
"I don't want anything from you!" Iolaus flared at him, swinging around so abruptly that he almost tripped himself. "Not now. Not ever!"
In the act of rising, Hercules sat back on his heels. "That's it, isn't it, Iolaus? Something's happened, something that made you run away from me. What is it?"
"Why should you care?" Iolaus asked as he turned away.
"Because you owe me an explanation," Hercules declared. "That's why I tracked you after I left Cusa. For some reason, I'm on trial here, and you're judge, jury, and executioner. But every criminal has the right to know what he's accused of."
For a moment, Iolaus stood, fuming, torn between bitter anger at the betrayal and an almost craven desire to be persuaded out of it. Then he flung down the carrysack and whirled to face the crouched man. "All right! Let's start with hypocrisy!"
"What?" Hercules asked, so surprised that his mouth hung open.
"That's right! Otherwise known as lies! You said that I'm not a good liar. I agree. I'm not. But you are. One of the best! You've had me fooled for years!"
Hercules stood up. "Iolaus, what in hell are you talking about? I've never lied to you about anything in my life."
"There's another one!"
"Iolaus, stop this! You're not making any sense...."
"Why should I? You never have!"
"Iolaus...." Hercules paused. "Back up a little. We were in the inn in Tiryns and everything was fine. Then I get to your house an hour later and you can't get away from me fast enough. What happened in that hour, Iolaus, to make you hate me?"
Iolaus shook his head wearily. "I don't hate you."
"Well, what happened to upset you then?"
Iolaus paused, opened his mouth, shut it again, and turned away. "You came to the house twice in that hour," he said in a low, uneven voice. "Once, when you found me there and once before. With Terces."
"Terces? Oh." Hercules stopped. "Yeah, I remember now. He stopped me just before I came in. But you weren't there...."
"Yes, I was. I saw both you and Terces go in. I was right behind you."
"You couldn't have been...."
Iolaus turned. "I thought you said I wasn't a good liar?"
"Okay, so you came in. Where in blazes were you? We never saw you."
"In the niche by the door, behind the curtain. I was just about to step into the room when I heard Terces say, 'Why do you put up with this?'"
"And?" Hercules encouraged.
In a tight voice, Iolaus repeated, word for word, the conversation that had broken his heart.
In the following silence, Hercules simply stared dumbly at him.
"You don't remember saying any of that?" Iolaus asked him grimly.
"Of course, I remember saying it."
"So you don't deny it? You meant every word of it?"
"Yes, of course," Hercules repeated. "Why should I deny it?"
Something shook Iolaus from head to foot and his face twisted in an effort to control the emotion that almost mastered him. "Would you have said all that if I'd been in the room?"
"Certainly! When have I ever had secrets from you?" Hercules asked. "Iolaus, you're still not making any sense."
The shaking made Iolaus' voice tremble. "It means so little to you then...what I feel or care about?"
"It always matters to me," Hercules said, and now he held out a hand to his friend, seeing him on the verge of emotional collapse. "Iolaus, I'm sorry! I didn't know that Crydon meant so much to you. You've never gotten along with him and he usually avoids you...." Hercules paused. "What?"
Iolaus stood frozen, every muscle tensed and rigid as if waiting for an explosion that would kill him. "C...Crydon?" he stammered.
"Yes, Crydon. Who else did you think we were talking about? When Terces stopped me outside the house, it was because he was concerned that his brother had some sort of obsession about me and he was worried that it wasn't good for him."
"So...." Iolaus swallowed convulsively. "Everything you said to Terces in the house...you were talking about Crydon?" he asked in a stunned whisper.
"Yes...." Hercules stopped in mid-breath, remembering that no name had been said during his conversation with Terces, and suddenly everything made awful sense, "Great Zeus!" he exclaimed unsteadily. "You thought we meant you!" He hesitated, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "Iolaus...my poor friend...you thought I was talking about you?"
"How could I think anything else?" Iolaus asked him. He looked around a little vaguely, then sat down limply on a fallen log.
"How could...Iolaus, we've been like brothers for years! All the adventures we've had, everything we've been through...and you were ready to think...." Words failed the son of Zeus and he simply stood staring at Iolaus in dumbfounded disbelief.
"Well, maybe I wouldn't have thought it if you hadn't said what you said in the tavern, earlier."
"What did I say?"
"About me needing to swing on your tunic...and earlier, when everyone was still there, about someone needing to adjust my thinking because I was so full of myself...."
Hercules laughed out aloud. He couldn't help it. At the sound, Iolaus looked up, fresh anger competing with the misery and confusion on his face. "You think it's funny, huh?"
"Yes. No." Hercules shook his head. "Well, yes it is. You take a chance remark, made in fun, and marry it to an overheard conversation and give birth to the most outrageous conclusion I've ever heard. Why do you always jump to these ridiculous conclusions, Iolaus? Especially about me? You see something or hear something that goes contrary to everything you know about me and suddenly you're ready to believe the worst."
When Iolaus didn't move or speak, Hercules added, "It doesn't speak very well for trust, does it, Iolaus? We've been best friends since we were twelve years old. We've always been there for each other. We've saved each other's lives countless times. Yet you're ready to believe I've just pretended to care about you all this time? What is the matter with you?"
Iolaus stood up a trifle unsteadily and turned away. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I guess it doesn't say much for our friendship, does it?"
"Iolaus...." Hercules paused. "Do you believe that I was talking about Crydon?"
Iolaus hung his head. "Yes."
"Turn around, Iolaus. Look me in the eye and tell me you believe me."
Iolaus shook his head. "I can't."
"So you don't believe me...."
"No, I do believe you. I give you my word I do. I'm just...."
"Just what?"
"Ashamed."
"So what?" Hercules replied with a laugh that he couldn't suppress. "You won't die of that. But you do deserve it. In fact, I oughta punch you in the mouth just for emphasis." He laughed again. "Come on, Iolaus, turn around. Look at me."
For a moment, Iolaus didn't move. Then he turned, slowly, and looked up at his friend. His face wore an expression of such absolute vulnerability that he seemed poised precariously over an abyss.
And Hercules, reading that look to its depths, understood the implications. The misunderstanding, ridiculous as it was, had hurt his friend so badly that, even presented with proof to the contrary, he was afraid to trust his heart again. The warrior who didn't know the meaning of fear on a battlefield, stood and trembled at the prospect of possible betrayal. That insidious seed of doubt, once planted, might never be uprooted. And if he accepted the friendship he'd relied on for so many years, it would be the last time he could accept it. The next doubt, however baseless, might destroy him. He could not be otherwise and still be the innocent, noble friend that Hercules loved as he had loved no other.
The son of Zeus went forward and held out his hand to Iolaus. His blond friend stared down at it with a kind of bleak terror. If he clasped it, if he bound his heart to the friendship again, it would be taking another chance that the next time the betrayal would be real. And Hercules saw, too, that his friend's love was such that he couldn't refuse the bond. He knew it, knew also that he was handing over his vulnerable human heart to another fallible human being. For good or ill, the love was too compelling to resist.
Then Iolaus clasped Hercules' arm and the tall Greek gripped it with his free hand. The blond warrior put his own free hand over the clasp and held on with all his strength. Neither man spoke, but their eyes locked.
Then, realizing that Iolaus was about two seconds away from an emotional breakup that would embarrass the hell out of both of them, Hercules gave the wiry forearm a final, firm shake and released it. "Let's go fishing," he said with a smile.
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