by Joe Corcoran
friend.
“Very well,” he said, “what shall we do with this single day?”
“Did I say day,” said Iolaus, “I should have said night.”
It was the middle of the afternoon on the next day, when the trading ship came sailing along the coast to a new anchorage. This time the spot had been carefully selected, looking down over a long low plain to the magnificent palace of Diomedes in the distance. Anyone looking closely would have seen that the sailors were all exhausted, and that their clothes were grimy with earth and mud. Of Hercules and Iolaus there was no sign - they were asleep below decks recovering from their long night and preparing for another. Soon, however, they were woken by the captain.
“It’s just as you expected,” he said, “a rider is approaching from the palace.”
By the time the rider arrived at the galley, Hercules and Iolaus were on deck and prepared to greet him. The rider dismounted and bowed respectfully. He saw before him two men of noble bearing and dressed in rich clothes. The older man, obviously the owner of the ship, had braided hair, a neatly trimmed beard and black markings around his eyes, as was the fashion in Egypt. Beside him stood a younger man, maybe his son as he was dressed and decorated in much the same way. Both wore many gold rings and other ornaments - further evidence of their wealth and status. It had taken hours for Iolaus to transform Hercules from a barbarian in a lion skin to a wealthy trader, and they had almost fallen out when Hercules had realised how much of his beard had gone, but the results were clearly worth the trouble.
“My lords,” said the rider, bowing even lower, so that Iolaus had to stop himself from giggling, “my master, the great King Diomedes, noticed your arrival, and begs you to accept his hospitality. Even now he is preparing a great banquet in your honour, and will shortly send a chariot to bring you to him.”
Having delivered his message, and without waiting for any form of reply, the man mounted his horse once again and galloped off back towards the palace. Hercules and Iolaus, pleased that their disguise had worked so well, sat down to wait for their transportation.
“I don’t like it,” said Hercules for what must have been the hundredth time, “going into that palace without my club or bow or cloak. The man means to kill us.”
Iolaus shook his head, and repeated patiently what Hercules already knew.
“we are rich merchants going to a banquet under the protection of a king. Rich merchants don’t carry weapons, let alone big clubs, and they don’t wear lion skins. Stick to the plan, and we will be victorious.”
Hercules wanted to argue, but couldn’t find the right words, and while he was still thinking the galley’s lookout called to say that the chariot was approaching. The captain came to see them off.
“What happens if his army attacks us before you return?” he asked, nervously licking his lips.
“Diomedes will not send his army to attack you until he is sure we, your leaders, are dead,” replied Iolaus, “if the army comes before we do, then our plan has failed and you should set sail and save yourselves.”
Hercules was surprised by the calmness and determination with which these honourable words were spoken. Once again he regretted that his adventures were leading this young man into danger, and vowed that he would protect Iolaus - no matter what.
When they arrived at the palace, Diomedes himself was there to greet them. The horses that drew their chariot had been quite normal, but the man who stood before them now was not. He was certainly a man, although so tall that some might call him a giant, and he looked very strong. As they said hello, Iolaus searched the man’s face for evidence of the madness the sailor’s had described. Looking closely he noticed that, although Diomedes was all smiles and kind words, no emotion touched his eyes.
“Tell me, what brings such fine gentlemen to my humble kingdom?”
Diomedes’ question brought Iolaus back to the moment, and he realised that he had been staring rudely. Fortunately they were well prepared, and Hercules was already answering the question - saying that they were merchants hoping to open a new trade route.
“How marvellous,” replied Diomedes, with what seemed like genuine warmth, “so few ships are willing to brave the dangers of the Black Sea, and we could do with more visitors from the wider world. It gets so dull here. But let us not stand here talking,” he continued, putting an arm around each of their shoulders and guiding them into the palace, “let me show you around my home and then we will feast.”
It seemed to Iolaus that these last words had evil undertones, but their host seemed very jovial, and he soon lost himself in the wonders of the palace, which was very large and very ornate. They walked from room to room for what must have been two or more hours, never visiting the same place twice, until they came to a larger corridor in which Iolaus recognised the smell of horses.
“Now,” said Diomedes, “I have bored you enough with this tour. Let us go to eat and drink. I would love to hear some stories of your travels.”
He made to turn down the corridor, to take them back into the main body of the palace, but Iolaus hesitated and looked the other way.
“What’s down here?” he asked. Diomedes’ face darkened, just for a moment and then his smile returned.
“Just the stables,” the king answered, “nothing of interest.”
“Oh, can we look,” Iolaus cried, pretending excitement, “I do love horses. Do you have any racing horses?”
Once again a shadow passed over the king’s face, and once again he controlled himself.
“My stables are very ordinary,” he said, “but I promise that before you leave I will personally take you there. For now, however, we must go and eat while the food is fresh and hot.”
This time there was no mistaking the menace in the king’s words, and Iolaus felt the grip around his shoulder tighten as he was firmly guided towards the banqueting hall.
The banqueting hall, when they arrived, was prepared for a feast. Hercules and Iolaus were given jugs of water, with which to wash their hands and feet, before being invited to recline on low couches around the main table. There were other guests, members of Diomedes’ family and household, so that there were about ten diners in all. Once the king had made himself comfortable on the couch at the head of the table, everyone began to help themselves to the marvellous array of dishes laid out before them. There were foods of all colours, tastes and textures, and Iolaus found himself wanting to try everything - each mouthful seeming more delicious than the last. Hercules was also tucking in with gusto, when he received a very welcome interruption. A servant had arrived to pour the wine.
“It’s not something I would usually say,” whispered a familiar voice in Hercules’ ear, “but don’t drink the wine, it’s drugged.”
Hercules turned in surprise to look at the serving girl who was leaning over to fill his cup. His surprise was doubled when he saw that, although she had a woman’s body, her face was that of the mayor of Chalcedon.
“Dionysus, it can only be you,” whispered Hercules in return.
“Yes, indeed,” replied the girl with the mayor’s face, “you were kind enough to help out my followers, so now I repay the kindness. Such a shame to waste good wine.”
Then the vision disappeared, and Hercules was left staring at the serving girl, her face back to normal, as she finished filling his cup and returned to the kitchens. Hercules saw that Iolaus was about to take a mouthful of his wine, and grabbed his wrist with lightning speed. Although he succeeded in stopping his friend drinking the drugged wine, the sudden movement had attracted the attention of Diomedes, and Hercules had to think fast.
“Sorry, my boy, but please taste the larks’ tongues before the wine - otherwise you will spoil the flavour,”
Iolaus gave a puzzled smile, but put down his cup and reached out for the dish that Hercules had mentioned. As soon as Diomedes’ attention was elsewhere Hercules, mouthed one word to Iolaus – ‘poison’ – and the young man went as pale as a sheet, realising how close he had com
e to disaster.
The feast continued for many hours. Several times the table was replenished with different courses, until Hercules thought that he would burst. All the while the guests were kept entertained by dancers, poets, singers and actors, so that the time passed quickly, and all the while Hercules and Iolaus were quietly pouring their wine into whatever pots or dishes they could find. Even so, it was a tired pair of adventurers who were led to a bedroom, once the banquet was finished. As soon as the door was closed, however, Iolaus leapt into action. He used pillows and blankets to make it look like there was someone in his bed, and began to go over the plan once again with Hercules.
“They mean to wait until we are asleep, and then they will come and slit our throats,” he said, “whatever happens we must stay awake, and then we can surprise them instead.”
“ZZzzzzz,” replied Hercules.
Iolaus turned to find that the big man had already fallen fast asleep on his bed, and was snoring soundly. He was so angry that he somehow found the strength to pick up one side of the bed, so that Hercules tumbled onto the floor with a bump.
“What, what, what!” he mumbled as he picked himself up off the floor.
“I was just explaining that if we fall asleep we’re dead,” said Iolaus, coldly, “now help me get your bed ready, and then let us prepare our
