This year none of that would be necessary.
This year neither of the judges would live long enough to utter any complaints.
"No," Hercules insisted firmly. "Absolutely not. It's out of the question."
Dinner was long over, and he and Iolaus sat by the hearth facing each other. Alcmena was in her corner chair, grinning at them while she sewed a new dress for a village girl who was to be married the following week.
It was a comfortable room. Not so large that voices echoed, or so small that anyone felt cramped.
Hangings on the walls and vases filled with flowers lent it color; the hearth provided more than simple physical warmth.
"No," he repeated, just in case Iolaus hadn't heard him the first hundred times.
"But, Herc," his friend protested, "think of the honor. Of the position."
"Of the women?" Hercules suggested.
"Well... yes, but that's not the point."
"What, exactly, is the point, then?"
Iolaus looked around the room in frustration before leaning forward. "The point is, these good and obviously reasonable people think that we, you and I, are responsible and intelligent enough to choose the one woman, the only woman, the absolute best woman among them to serve as their summer queen." He held up the scroll. "It's the highest honor they can bestow upon their citizens. Well, to their women, anyway. And we are the ones who are going to choose her!"
"What's the catch?"
Iolaus made a noise that sounded as if he were being strangled. "Catch? Why does there have to be a catch? We go, we pick, we eat, we drink, we leave. What catch?"
"Right. What's the catch?"
Iolaus slumped back in his chair, nearly defeated. "I don't get it. I just don't get it."
"Neither do I," Hercules said. "That's why I asked you what the catch is."
Iolaus' voice rose as he slapped the scroll against his palm. "There. Is. No. Catch!" He looked to Alcmena quickly. "Sorry. He just makes me crazy sometimes, that's all."
Without looking up from her work, Alcmena gestured an it' s all right, he does that to me, too.
Hercules pushed a hand through his hair. He was tired of arguing, but he wasn't so tired that he could so easily be swept into another one of Iolaus' schemes. His friend had been trying for what seemed like forever to find a woman for him; not to replace Deianera, but to fill what the man knew was an emotional gap in Hercules' life. Unfortunately, as good-hearted and well meaning as Iolaus was, his eagerness to help sometimes fuddled his brain.
Still, spending a few days by the sea looking at beauty didn't seem all that bad.
This summer festival actually sounded like it might be fun. According to Iolaus, it was an annual celebration, held to ensure that the growing season would produce a rich harvest. Offers to Demeter for her favor on land, and to Poseidon for his on the sea, were accompanied by feasts large and small, parades, street entertainments, and what sounded like a continual round of parties, culminating in the ritual selection of the summer queen.
The problem was the catch.
There was always a catch. A trick. A hidden clause. A corner around which the unexpected lay in wait.
Hercules didn't mind surprises in general, just the ones that tended to take off his head.
With Iolaus, such surprises were the rule.
"Listen," he said patiently. "Do you remember the last time you got involved with a beauty contest?"
Iolaus winced.
Hercules laughed. "Artemis, Athena, and Aphrodite, remember? You had to choose between them, and you nearly started a war."
"Wasn't my fault," Iolaus muttered. "Aphrodite tricked me with her damn golden apples." He lifted his head defiantly. "And there are no goddesses involved this time, okay? This will be different."
"Okay," Hercules said cautiously. "Then why us? We've never been there, we don't know anyone there, and we're not related to whoever runs the place."
"Because," Iolaus explained with exaggerated patience, "we are known far and wide for our good deeds, our honesty, and our unimpeachable integrity."
"Of course. I should have known."
Iolaus closed his eyes, breathed deeply several times, and sighed. Loudly. "All right," he said, flopping a hand over in his lap. "I'll go alone. It'll be tough, but I think I can manage it."
Hercules swallowed a laugh. "I think so, too."
For a long moment Iolaus watched the fire. "I hear Themon is a lovely city."
"I'm sure it is," Hercules answered warily.
"Right by the sea."
"Yes, so I've heard."
Iolaus inhaled deeply. "All that fresh air, that salt air." He thumped his chest. "It does something to the appetite."
"Which one?" Hercules asked.
Iolaus gave him a now that hurt, that really hurt look, and appealed to Alcmena with a tilt of his head.
"Now wait a minute," Hercules began, sensing a conspiracy in the making.
"I think you should go," his mother said calmly.
"What?"
"See?" Iolaus nodded. "Even your mother thinks it's a good idea."
Hercules scowled. "This isn't fair."
Alcmena kept her face hidden, but he suspected she was grinning. "You need the time away. You need to see Themon; it's as lovely as Iolaus says." She did look up then. "And you need to leave before I have your head for a doorstop."
A glare to Iolaus kept him silent.
"Mother—"
“In the morning,' she said, the matter already decided. "You'll be out of my hair, you'll keep Iolaus out of trouble—"
"Hey," Iolaus objected.
"—and then I can really look forward to seeing you again."
There were no doubt dozens of arguments against it, perhaps even a hundred or so, but in the face of Iolaus' eagerness and his mother's calm insistence, he couldn't think of one that sounded like it made any sense. For that matter, at the moment he couldn't think of one at all.
"You two make a good team," he said in reluctant admiration.
"So do you two," she answered. She rose, kissed his cheek, and smiled at Iolaus. "In the morning. I'll have food prepared for you, for the trip."
When she had left, Iolaus did his best not to gloat. "A wonderful woman your mother is. She knows what's good for you, even if you don't." He sat up then, and slapped Hercules' knee. "It'll be all right, you'll see. We'll have a good time, we'll do a little fishing, we'll judge this silly contest, and we'll be out of there before you know it."
"Silly contest? I thought this was supposed to be an honor we can't refuse?"
"Oh, it is," Iolaus agreed, standing, stretching, and yawning. "Really. It is."
He bade Hercules a good night, leaving him to the fire, and the shadows on the wall.
And eventually to a deep sleep. Yet even in his sleep, Hercules couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Not from behind a tree, but from above. From behind a dark cloud, where storms were born.
"The way I see it," Iolaus said the following afternoon, "we should have no trouble at all deciding who is the most beautiful."
They had made good time after leaving Alcmena's house, taking the generally unused road over low green hills toward the sea. A perfect day with perfect weather, and Hercules was able to take the first few hours of Iolaus' chatter with good humor, and a few knowing gibes.
Now, however, that chatter was beginning to wear a little thin around the edges.
Iolaus had energy enough for a dozen men, two dozen men, and prolonged exposure to it was more exhausting than climbing mountains or fording rivers swollen with winter's melting snow. It had been that way all the years he had known him, and as Iolaus continued with his lecture on the various points of beauty they should consider, Hercules was forced to admit that his enthusiasm was contagious.
It was indeed time to move on.
To spend a few days by the sea, to enjoy a feast or two, to bask in good company and drink good wine
... it would have been churlish of him
to refuse. Besides, working on that wall had been getting a little boring.
If Hera was indeed up to something, at least now he was away from Alcmena, who would be safe.
"Interviews," Iolaus said.
Hercules frowned. "What interviews?"
Iolaus jabbed him with an elbow. "Pay attention, Herc, I'm trying to educate you here. Interviews with the ladies, of course. Don't you think it would be a good idea to have interviews with each of them? To find out if they're worthy of the honor?"
"Of course it is. Why, we might even have to take each one to dinner. At the festival's expense, of course. To make sure they understand the gravity of their position. We certainly don't want to dishonor the good people of Themon by choosing a woman who would disgrace them, right?"
"Oh, right Absolutely." Hercules glanced at the brush-choked hillside on their left, wondering if he might be spared by a rock slide or something.
"It's very important, Herc, that we take our time with this."
"Naturally." To their right, the land sloped down into a meadow. Maybe there was an army down there, hidden in the tall grass, waiting to ambush unsuspecting travelers.
"Of course, if one of them should fall in love with me, that could pose a problem."
Hercules looked up. A lightning bolt, maybe?
"Two would be flattering, though, 1 suppose."
"Sure."
"Three would be embarrassing. But not unworkable."
"Right."
Iolaus glared at him. "You're not paying the slightest attention to what I'm saying, are you?"
Hercules laughed sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Iolaus." He spread his arms. "I'm just enjoying the view and the trip, that's all."
"That's all right. You just leave everything to me. I'll take care of us."
"Right."
A mile or so later Iolaus stopped. Several paces later Hercules turned around.
"Do you think I'm dressed for the part?"
Iolaus wore, as always, heavy leather vest armor open midway to his stomach, leg coverings, boots, and sword.
"You look fine to me."
"I don't know." He slapped dust from the padded shoulders. "I think maybe they're expecting something more ... I don't know, elegant." He frowned. "You know what I mean? Robes and such. Like judges wear."
"We're not that kind of judge, Iolaus," Hercules reminded him.
"Still, I don't think we're— hey!"
Hercules had grabbed his arm and nearly yanked him off his feet as he propelled him up the road.
"We're traveling, Iolaus. We're walking. We get dusty; we get dirty. That's the way of it. When we get to Themon, we'll clean up and we'll look fine."
Hercules' tone left no room for discussion, and he was glad Iolaus didn't pursue the subject. Still, the man muttered for a long time, and kept examining his clothes and shaking his head. At one point, just before they camped for the night, Hercules thought he heard Iolaus say something about a tailor.
There were no dreams that night, no prickling intimations of danger.
Yet Hercules, despite the pleasant weariness after a long day of travel, found it difficult to fall asleep.
It wasn't so much the catch he just knew was involved in this judging invitation as it was a persistent feeling that strings were being pulled. Iolaus claimed he was looking to create problems where there weren't any, and perhaps that was, in some sense, true. But his natural suspicion had saved him on more than one occasion, and he wasn't about to discount it now.
When sleep finally forced his eyes closed, he could have sworn he heard voices floating toward him on the wind.
By the following midday his mood had lifted. Hercules and Iolaus stopped in a village for something to eat, and moved on.
Already the breeze carried a faint hint of salt air, and the hills had begun to level to flatland, leaving wider valleys behind.
Iolaus, however, was curiously silent.
Finally Hercules couldn't take it anymore. "Are you all right?" he demanded.
Iolaus shrugged. "I think so. I didn't sleep all that well last night, I guess."
"Oh? Why?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it was because I kept thinking I heard voices."
Hercules stopped.
I knew it, he thought; I knew it.
"What voices?"
Iolaus shrugged again, and didn't stop until he realized Hercules was no longer beside him. When he turned around, it was with eyes narrowed and one hand on the hilt of his sword.
He pointed with his chin. "Those voices, I think."
Hercules didn't have to look. If there were as many men behind him as had stepped onto the road behind Iolaus, there probably wasn't going to be a whole lot of time left for discussion.
The bandits were a ragtag lot. Some wore simple clothing; others wore bits and pieces of scarred leather armor. The only things they had in common were their staffs and swords, a dagger or two, and their headgear—a black cloth wrapped around their heads so that only their eyes showed, with the cloth tails tied into a large knot behind their necks.
In the center of each headpiece was a large red rectangle.
Hercules turned to face those behind him, and smiled as genially as he could while he backed up.
Slowly.
"Gentlemen," he said, spreading his arms to show he was neither armed nor carrying anything that could even remotely be construed as treasure. ' 'Gentlemen, I don't think this is a very good idea."
The bandit nearest him swept his sword sharply through the air. "Just be quiet," he snarled, "and this'll be over in a minute."
The other bandits growled in agreement.
Unless it was discord. Hercules couldn't tell. The apparent leader was the only one who had bothered to leave a space in his helmet for his mouth.
He stepped back again, and felt Iolaus bump up behind him.
' 'What do you think?' he asked over his shoulder.
Iolaus drew his sword and ran a judging thumb along its cutting edge. "Well, I suppose, for starters, we could cut off a few heads."
Hercules nodded. "Or we could make them dig their own graves before we hanged them."
Iolaus laughed shortly. "I like that one."
"Hey," the leader snapped. "What are you two talking about?"
"Our plan," Iolaus told him as he eyed the men ranged before him.
"You can't have a plan."
"Why not?" Hercules asked reasonably. "You have a plan, so I think it's only right we should have a plan."
"We don't have a plan."
Iolaus shook his head in disbelief. "He doesn't have a plan."
"I think he does," Hercules said.
"Oh, yeah?" the leader said, snarling and waving his sword again. "If you're so smart, what's our plan?"
Iolaus carved a pattern in the air with his sword. "You're going to ambush us, rob us, and either kill us outright, or leave us here for dead."
The bandits growled something.
The leader hushed them with a wave. "Lucky guess."
Iolaus bowed mockingly.
"But it's a better plan than yours." The man sneered.
"Why?" Hercules said.
"Because there's ten of us and only two of you."
The bandits laughed.
Hercules couldn't help it—he felt sorry for the lot of them. Only the leader looked as if he had any meat on his bones, and their weapons, while no doubt lethal enough, were probably older than most of them.
And in not much better shape.
"I'm bored," Iolaus said. He raised his voice. "Now listen, gentlemen, we're on an important mission to Themon. It'll go easier on you if you just let us be on our way."
Hercules nodded his agreement. "We don't want any trouble. Really."
Somewhere in the pack one of the bandits made the sound of a worried chicken.
Hercules felt Iolaus stiffen, and he sighed. He didn't need any special talents to know what that taunt would do.
'Oh, dear," said Iolaus regre
tfully. "I really do wish you hadn't done that."
Hercules sighed again. Sometimes it was a real pain when he was right.
"Now look," the bandit leader insisted. "You just—"
Iolaus moved first.
With a shriek worthy of a Harpy in a particularly foul mood, he charged the quintet facing him, swinging his sword wildly. They scattered, but not quickly enough for two to avoid being dropped to their knees by the flat of his blade.
At the same time Hercules charged the leader and the other men. The bandit leaped nimbly to one side and urged his men forward. One of them immediately swung a staff that caught the air where Hercules'
head would have been if he hadn't ducked, reached up, and snatched the staff away. The bandit blinked, first at the loss of his weapon, then at the smack he received on the temple just before he crumpled to the ground.
A second bandit scurried in front of Hercules and used a two-handed spin of his staff to keep Hercules at bay. The man's arms, however, weren't quite up to the task. One end of the staff hit the dirt, snapped up, and clipped him on the chin.
"Get them!" the leader shrieked in frustration.
Iolaus, meanwhile, found himself with one bandit in front of him, one behind, both with swords that they seemed to know how to use. Their problem was coordination—they charged at the same time, weapons extended like lances, and all Iolaus had to do was wait until the last second, then step aside and use his own sword to deflect theirs into the ground with a single slap. Momentum did the rest—when the blades stuck in the road, the bandits were lifted off their feet and they collided crown to crown.
"Get them!" the leader bellowed in exasperation.
After a check to be sure Iolaus was all right, Hercules sidestepped another charge, grabbed the trailing black cloth tail and spun the man off his feet, released the tail, and sent him tumbling down the slope into the high grass below.
"Get..." The leader glanced around, looked at Hercules, and threw up his hands in despair just before he took off down the road. The others soon followed, although not nearly as fast.
When the last of the bandits vanished around the far bend, Iolaus said, "Wow," with a breathless grin.
"Now that's a way to break up a day."
Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02 Page 3
