Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02

by Serpent's Shadow

  "What?" Iolaus tried to jump to his feet, staggered halfway there, and fell back on his rump. "You can't do that!"

  Rotus shrugged. "We already have. You're here, you're not going anywhere, and the festival begins in the morning."

  "Well put, well done!" Squeaky Voice cried.

  Iolaus rolled his eyes. "By the gods, will you please be quiet?"

  Suddenly someone raced across the floor and skidded to a halt in front of him, hands on hips, fiercely scowling, and wearing a black patch over one eye. " You be quiet," the rebel squeaked. "You're the prisoner, big boy, not me."

  Hercules looked away before he laughed.

  Iolaus could only gape and stammer.

  The rebel was a woman. Most definitely a woman. Blond hair a-tangle over her brow, large blue eyes— one of them, anyway—and a dirt-smudged pug nose lightly sprayed with freckles.

  Somewhat flustered, Iolaus brushed a lock of hair from his eyes and offered an apologetic smile.

  To Hercules' astonishment, she blushed and stomped away to the table, taking the chair Rotus had used, spinning it around, and sitting on it, her arms draped over the low back.

  "You'll have to forgive Venitia," Rotus said flatly. "She tends to lose her temper a lot."

  Hercules noticed that there were at least two other women in the group, a fact that had evidently not escaped Iolaus' eye either.

  "No problem," Hercules said reasonably. "But I don't think holding us here is going to do you any good."

  "Really? And why not?"

  "We're only judges," he explained. "If we don't show up, they'll only pick someone else in our place."

  "They wouldn't dare," Venitia declared, thumping the table with a fist.

  "Why not?"

  "Because," she answered sharply.

  The other rebels grumbled loudly.

  "Look," Hercules said, concentrating on Rotus, "we don't have anything to do with this Councillor Titus. Or with Themon, for that matter. My friend Iolaus, here, accepted an invitation, and we intend to honor it."

  The grumbling grew louder.

  Patience, he told himself; patience.

  He tried again: "Since you obviously know who we are, you must also know our reputations." He frowned, and the grumbling subsided. "So why not let us go to Themon, do what we promised, and if we find that your complaints are just, maybe then we can lend you a hand."

  "Hey, we're doing all right on our own," Venitia snapped.

  The grumbling grew still louder.

  "Well, of course you are. I didn't say you weren't."

  The grumbling subsided.

  Rotus shook his head. "That all sounds pretty good, but we have our orders, and we know what to do."

  He almost seemed sincere when he added "Sorry."

  Iolaus, who apparently couldn't take his gaze off Venitia, nudged Hercules with an elbow. "What's the big deal about a councillor? He's not a king, is he?"

  "No," Rotus answered as he perched on the edge of the table. "He's a tyrant."

  "You can say that again," Venitia muttered.

  Now Hercules was truly puzzled.

  Although lands were ruled by kings or other nobles, a number of cities were governed, as was Themon, by councils chosen from the ranks of the rich and educated. Which, these days, pretty much amounted to the same thing.

  In times of war, however, when it was clear a strong hand was needed to raise and train an army, the council elected a tyrant to run things. He was a man with sweeping powers whose sole mandate was to protect the city, win the war, and save the people. When the war was over, the parades done, and the booty divided, the tyrant stepped down and the council returned to power.

  Almost always.

  Rotus nodded at the expression on Hercules' face. "That's right. Themon had a war with pirates a long time ago. Titus was elected tyrant, defeated the pirates ,. . and stayed in power."

  "How long?" Hercules asked.

  Rotus closed one eye and stared at the ceiling, sniffed, held up one hand, stared at his fingers, closed the other eye, bowed his head, opened his eyes, and said, "Twenty years, give or take."

  "What?" Iolaus scratched his cheek. "Twenty years? Why hasn't he been replaced?"

  The grumbling modulated to a discontented mumbling.

  Rotus mumbled something himself, and Hercules asked him, politely, to speak up.

  "Because things have been pretty good, that's why," the rebel snarled grudgingly. "Nobody wants to take a chance on changing the government, because they don't want to rock the boat."

  "Not that good," Venitia corrected.

  "Well, yes, not that good," Rotus agreed.

  "Right!" someone called. "Not all that good. Pretty awful sometimes, actually."

  The others agreed. Loudly. With lots of fist waving and lots of foot stomping. Within seconds, someone had begun to sing what was clearly a song meant to inspire revolutionary fervor. Seconds later all the rebels joined in and were singing. Loudly. With lots of fists waving and lots of feet stomping.

  Hercules and Iolaus looked at each other.

  "You're sure I'm not dead?" Iolaus asked.

  Hercules shook his head, although he himself had decided he was probably still asleep, that this was yet another one of those portentous dreams whose meaning he was expected to decipher so that he could, upon awakening, figure out what to do next. The problem was, all this yelling and grumbling and top-of-the-lung singing was giving him a splitting headache on top of the one he already had.

  When Iolaus nudged him sharply with an elbow, he sighed. He was awake. Very awake.

  Iolaus leaned close. "Here, we have to get out of here."

  "I know."

  "We can't disappoint those ladies."

  "I know."

  "I mean, they're depending on me, Herc. Us. To give them the elusive dream they've always dreamed of since they were children—being the summer queen. Being the queen of Themon. Being—"

  Hercules snapped a finger against the man's chin to shut him up. "That was in the invitation, wasn't it?"

  Iolaus scowled, rubbed his chin, opened his mouth to protest Hercules' doubt of his command of the language, not to mention his sincerity, changed his mind, and nodded.

  The singing continued.

  An excruciating hour passed as song followed song, during which Hercules figured this had to be Hera's revenge.

  Eventually Iolaus nudged him again. "I have a plan."

  Of course, Hercules thought; you always have a plan.

  "So tell me something I don't already know," he said.

  "They have horses."

  Hercules stared at him in disbelief. ' 'They what?'

  "Horses. That's why they keep leaving. To take care of the horses." Iolaus inched closer. "So we get out of here, grab a couple of horses, and ride." He smiled.

  Hercules smiled back. "How do we get out of here?"

  Iolaus' smile broadened. "That's your job. I thought of the horses." When Hercules made to snap his chin again, he laughed. "No, really, I have a plan for that, too." He glanced around at the singing rebels.

  "When I tell you, run for the exit."

  "All right," Hercules said doubtfully. "When do we do this?"

  "Now!" Iolaus shouted, leaped to his feet, and raced away.

  Stunned, Hercules sat for a second, then groaned, leaped to his own feet, and followed Iolaus toward the exit.

  Stunned, the rebels kept singing until they realized that their hostages had escaped, then changed the singing to a lot of shouting and screaming and grabbed their weapons before racing for the exit.

  It was the bowman on the ledge who scored the first hit.

  As Hercules and Iolaus exploded from the cave an arrow ricocheted off one of the Hephaestus-forged black guards Hercules wore on each arm from wrist to elbow. The hit startled him, nearly made him stumble, and reminded him that these bandits were not the bumblers he had once believed.

  The cave was at the base of a low grassy hill. Ranged in front were
a number of stunted trees, and beneath one were a half-dozen horses. Iolaus made straight for them, leaping over an arrow that thudded into the ground just ahead of him. Another hummed past Hercules' left ear, but he didn't turn; that would only delay him, and make him an easier target.

  Moments later Iolaus leaped nimbly onto the back of a roan, grabbed her mane, and was gone.

  Hercules, who wasn't all that fond of horses except when they were pulling things he was riding in, found a larger animal, a black, and threw himself onto its back. Then he scattered the other animals before racing off after his friend.

  The last he saw of the rebels, they had reached the trees, some trying futilely to catch the remaining horses, the others impotently shouting their anger while shaking their fists and weapons. It was clear there was no way they'd be able to catch him before he reached Themon.

  He should have been relieved.

  What he was, was puzzled.

  By then, Iolaus had slowed his mount to a canter. His face was red with laughter and excitement, and when Hercules joined him, he reached out to slap his arm.

  "Amazing!" he said with a self-congratulatory grin. "Wasn't that amazing?"

  Hercules scowled. "1 thought you had a plan."

  "That was the plan."

  " 'Run!' was the plan?"

  "Sure."

  Hercules couldn't believe it. "What kind of a plan is that? Run? That's a plan?"

  "What are you complaining about? It worked, didn't it? We're free, aren't we?"

  Refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply, Hercules held out his left arm and pointed to a small scratch at the top of the arm guard. "An arrow, Iolaus. One more inch and I would have been hit."

  A nod conceded the point. "But it didn't, Herc. It didn't."

  "Yes, but—"

  Iolaus laughed, whooped, and urged the roan on to a faster gallop, waving over his shoulder. "Come on, Herc, we only have a couple of hours before sunset, and the ladies await!"

  All right, Hercules admitted, so it didn't get me. So we got away. So it worked. But. .. run? He calls that a plan?

  Yet he couldn't help a brief smile of his own, at his friend's exuberance, and at the day itself.

  Under a flawless blue sky the plain rolled gently southward, the expanse of short rich grass broken only by the farms and pastures that could be seen in the distance, east and west. Wildflowers added spots of vivid color. Here and there, a full-crowned tree or two loomed over streams or ponds, providing shade and shelter to grazing cattle. With the hills now behind them, the salt air was sharp, energizing, and Hercules spotted a number of gulls wheeling slowly overhead; and higher still, a pair of hawks.

  He inhaled deeply, and his headache finally vanished. Maybe, he thought with mental fingers firmly crossed, this journey wasn't going to be so bad after all.

  Iolaus waved to him from the top of a rise. He waved back and rode on, ignoring the thumps the horse's spine gave to his rump.

  "There!" Iolaus declared when Hercules joined him. "Themon, Herc! Our destiny awaits!"

  Below them was a wide, well-traveled road. Although not crowded, there were plenty of riders, walkers, and carts and wagons, all streaming toward the city in the middle distance. It wasn't the largest city Hercules had ever visited, but it was refreshing to see such a place unmarred by confining walls, or army camps on the outskirts. Red-tile roofs caught the sun brightly; building walls of varying soft colors glowed; and where the sky curved down to the horizon, he could just make out the glint of the sea.

  He looked at Iolaus and smiled warmly. "I have to admit—this was a good idea."

  Iolaus preened. "Of course it was. Did you ever doubt me—and don't spoil it by answering."

  Hercules didn't, with a laugh.

  According to the invitation, the next step, Iolaus explained as they joined the others on the road, was to go straight to a place called the plaza. There they would find the council chambers, meet with Councillor Titus, receive their instructions, and bask in the adulation of the townfolk.

  Hercules looked at him askance. ' 'Bask in the adulation'? Is that in the scroll, too?"

  "No. I made that up myself. Not bad, huh?"

  "Don't tell me—you're practicing to be a judge."

  Iolaus nodded emphatically. "Absolutely. 1 don't want them to think I'm some kind of lout, you know."

  Hercules wiped a hand over his face. "In case they want to invite you back?"

  Iolaus lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe. Frankly, it never occurred to me."

  Right, Hercules thought.

  Abruptly the plain gave way to the city, and they found themselves riding down stone-paved streets somewhat wider than those they were used to. Decorations were everywhere, and merchants hawked their wares from stands in front of their shops; the air was thick with the aromas of cooking food, and despite the noise of pedestrians and sellers, music could be heard escaping from the open doors of taverns and inns. The din and the sheer numbers of people made the horses nervous, and it was all Hercules and Iolaus could do to keep them from bolting.

  Their pace grew slower as they neared the city's center, where, since Themon had evidently been laid out in a grid, the intersections were particularly crowded.

  Not so crowded, however, that Hercules wasn't able to spot the occasional pair of soldiers stationed at the corners. At first he figured they were there to look for rebels; then, after witnessing a brief struggle with a trio of men who had obviously been testing each other's wine-tasting capacities, he realized the soldiers were there primarily to keep the peace.

  Evidently Themon was determined that its citizens and visitors would enjoy a festival unmarred by violence.

  Suddenly a child darted in front of Iolaus, who had to fight to keep his horse from rearing. It was one thing to escape from their captors without saddle or reins, quite another to keep the animals under control without such aids under conditions like this.

  "That's it," Hercules said, sliding to the ground. "We're getting rid of these beasts before they kill someone. Like me."

  With one hand still gripping the black's thick mane, he spotted a stable down a narrow, nearly empty side street and made straight for it, not bothering to check to see if Iolaus was following. As he approached, a young man stepped out of the dark interior, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his belt.

  "There's no room," he said regretfully. "We're all boarded up."

  "I don't want to board him," Hercules said. "You can have him."

  The stable boy blinked his bewilderment. "You . .. I..."

  "Can have him," Hercules repeated. And as Iolaus rode up he added, "That one, too." Without waiting for permission, he guided the black inside, grabbed a rope from a hook on the wall, and looped it loosely around the animal's neck. "He's been ridden hard, by the way, so take care of him, all right?'

  The young man was too flustered to object when Iolaus did the same with his mount.

  Hercules smiled and shook his hand. "Thanks. And tell your boss he can do whatever he likes with them, except treat them badly." He leaned forward and deepened his voice. "I'll know if he does."

  The young man stepped back with a nervous nod, nearly yelped when Iolaus poked him in the back.

  "We have to get to the plaza. Can you tell us how?"

  The stable boy nodded again, rattled off directions that made Iolaus blink in confusion, then stopped, excused himself, and repeated the directions more slowly.

  "You got that, Herc?" Iolaus asked when the stable boy had finished.

  Hercules nodded. He was fairly sure he had understood, but the smell of the stable was a little over-powering, and what he wanted was fresh air. Even the fresh air of the city street. If he made a mistake and got lost, they could always ask someone else. He thanked the stable boy and hurried outside. They were the only pedestrians.

  "Left," Iolaus said when he joined him.

  "Right," Hercules said.

  "No. Left."

  "Right."


  Iolaus grinned. "See?" And took a step to the left before Hercules grabbed him.

  "I said right, not left."

  "But I said left, and you said right."

  "That's right."

  Iolaus made a noise deep in his throat. "I said—"

  Hercules stopped him by taking hold of his vest and pulling him close. "Don't start, Iolaus, or we'll be at it all night."

  "But what did I say?"

  "Too much. Just follow me."

  Iolaus started to argue, stopped, and looked over his shoulder.

  Hercules did the same.

  The stable boy stood in the wide doorway, staring.

  "Yes?" Iolaus said warily.

  The young man pointed. ' 'Are you . .. Hercules?'' he asked hesitantly.

  "Nope. I'm Iolaus. Judge Iolaus, that is." He slapped Hercules' arm lightly. "This is Hercules."

  The boy gaped. 'T he Hercules?"

  Hercules didn't know how to respond to the boy's tone of awe, so he simply nodded. After all this time on the road, he knew he should be used to people's reactions when they met him, but it still made him uncomfortable. Very often stories of his exploits were, to say the least, considerably embellished by the time he caught up with them, and nothing he could say could convince people otherwise. They believed what they wanted to.

  "Wow," the young man said.

  Iolaus chuckled under his breath and gave Hercules a nudge. "What did I tell you?" he whispered. "Famous."

  The stable boy frowned as he scratched through his thick brown hair. "So you're going to decide who's the summer queen?"

  "Right again," Iolaus said proudly. "Now look, we'd love to stay and chat, but we—"

  "You're going to kill her," the young man accused quietly. Then loudly: "You're going to kill her!"

  Hercules and Iolaus exchanged confused looks, but their questions went unasked when the young man vanished into the stable's dark interior.

  Iolaus scratched his head. "City people are weird," he concluded.

  He might have said more, but an angry shout interrupted him.

  It was the stable boy, charging them with a pitchfork in his hands.