Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02

by Serpent's Shadow

  "You must really love him," he said, only half seriously.

  "Oh, I do. It isn't always easy, but I do."

  At the table he waited until she was seated. When Titus, grumbling and swearing under his breath, joined them, Hercules instructed them to do what they always did, but not to be surprised by what happened next.

  "What's going to happen next?" Titus asked in a whisper loud enough to be heard all the way to Athens.

  "The plan," Hercules reminded him.

  "What plan?"

  The plan, Hercules told him with an exasperated look, that starts with you leaving Themon feet-first if you don't stop asking me what plan.

  Titus closed his mouth so tightly his lips disappeared.

  Hercules nodded sharply— good man, you get to live.

  After taking his own seat and automatically picking up a piece of bread from the platter in front of him, he watched as Iolaus concentrated on Venitia, as Jocasta tried to soothe and reassure her husband, as the people in the plaza began to stamp their feet and clap their hands with impatience, as the storm continued to build darkly on the horizon.

  He pushed a nervous hand back through his hair.

  He felt the slow breeze that coasted up the boulevard into the makeshift amphitheater, catching the scent of salt and rain.

  I'm right, he told himself; I know I'm right.

  But when it happened, he knew it would happen fast.

  He only hoped he was ready.

  Titus Perical rose from his seat and stepped around to the front of the center table. At the top of the steps he lifted his arms, and after an intricate flourish of trumpets, the crowd rose to its feet and cheered.

  Hercules glanced at Jocasta, and saw the pride on her face, and a deep melancholy that made him look away.

  A look at Iolaus, however, caused him to worry. His friend's cheeks were flushed, and the way he leaned close to Venitia, Hercules was afraid the man had drunk too much wine.

  The trumpets sounded again.

  Iolaus leaned close. "This is it?"

  Hercules nodded.

  "It's about time." Iolaus lowered his voice. "This woman is driving me crazy."

  "I thought you enjoyed it," Hercules said dryly.

  Iolaus made a face at him— of course I enjoyed it, you dope—lifted his goblet, and brought it to his lips. His throat moved, his eyes half closed, but when the goblet was set back on the table, the level hadn't dropped more than a sip.

  When Hercules stared, Iolaus winked.

  At that moment the crowd settled into an excited murmuring as, far to the left, a procession made its way down the eight broad steps. It was, he realized, the shrine he had seen earlier in the parade. It was carried to the center of the plaza and set carefully on the ground.

  A single trumpet blew a single sweet note.

  Hercules swallowed hard.

  The crowd took to its feet again when Titus gestured grandly, and the acolytes who had carried the shrine into the plaza returned in two rows. Between the rows were five women, all dressed alike, heads bowed, feet bare.

  Venitia squeaked with delight. "Boy, I wish I were one of them."

  Iolaus gave her an are you nuts? look.

  She shrugged. "Okay, I don't. Well, I do, but not really. I mean—" She shut up and grabbed a goblet.

  It was easy to spot Cire and her twin because of their red hair, walking one behind the other in the center of the line. At this distance it was impossible to tell which was which. Until one of them stumbled slightly, and Hercules knew that was Cire.

  He leaned toward Jocasta. "Do they stay down there?"

  She shook her head, but said nothing.

  The line of women left the priestly acolytes and made a circuit around the shrine before moving to the foot of the steps. In a speech Hercules figured he delivered every year, Titus greeted them as though they were true queens, praising their beauty and impressing upon them the importance and solemnity of their office, however temporary it might be.

  The crowd had fallen silent.

  The speech went on, and each time Titus mentioned either Demeter or Poseidon, he made a sharp gesture with his left hand, bringing the women up one step at a time.

  Hercules knew that when they reached the top, it would be time for him and Iolaus to act. What he didn't know was how Titus would get them to single out Cire.

  Iolaus squirmed impatiently.

  "How long does this go on?" Hercules asked Jocasta.

  She sighed with a faint smile. "Forever, Hercules, forever. He's a politician, remember?"

  She was right.

  Even when the contestants reached the top step, Titus continued to speak. He stood in front of them now, his voice carrying easily as he recounted each woman's history and described what she had promised to bring to this solemn office should she be chosen by the heroes who had traveled all this way just for this moment.

  Iolaus whispered, "Am 1 still awake?"

  Hercules coughed into a fist to keep from laughing.

  The crowd, however, didn't seem to mind. Cheers were offered at regular intervals; feet stomped as if on cue; ribbons and scarves were waved like flags; even those jammed into the gap where the plaza met the boulevard, and those on the nearby rooftops, found ways of signaling their approval.

  Titus spoke on. Eloquently. Movingly. Interminably. Switching to describe the city's devotion to the gods who were the patrons of this occasion. Seamlessly weaving praise for them into praise for Hercules and Iolaus.

  Iolaus kept squirming. "You'd think we were gods, too," he muttered, looked at Hercules, and added,

  "Well, some of us, anyway. Partly, at least. Sort of."

  Hercules hushed him with a look, at the same time reminding him to keep his eye on the plaza. For anything that seemed unusual.

  Then he heard a curious noise behind him, checked over his shoulder, and saw one of the huge brass-paneled doors begin to swing open. He frowned. With all the councillors out here, Titus blathering out there, and the guards all in place by each pillar and ranged along each step, who would be back by the doors?

  His eyes widened.

  "Iolaus," he snapped, and with a polite smile for no one in particular, he eased his chair back and stood.

  "What, already?" Iolaus said. He frowned at the plaza. "But I don't see—"

  Hercules moved swiftly to the back of the porch, just to the left of the partially open door. Although the crowd was still noisy, he heard the distinct sound of metal softly striking metal. "Company," he whispered when Iolaus joined him, and pointed at the widening gaps between the doors.

  Iolaus nodded, and rubbed his hands together.

  Hercules almost grinned. Beautiful women and a fight—Iolaus was in his element, no question about it.

  However, they didn't dare let the intruders loose on the porch. Chaos would result, and too many bodies.

  He took a deep breath and placed his palms against the door.

  Iolaus tilted his head back to measure the door's height and width, and mouthed, It looks damn big and heavy, Herc.

  NO kidding, thought Hercules, who took another breath, braced himself, and pushed lightly so he'd know just how heavy it was.

  Then, without hesitation, he shoved it.

  Hard.

  There were yelps of surprise and pain as the door swung shut, more cries when Hercules yanked it open again and he and Iolaus slid quickly into the gap.

  The first thing Hercules saw was a half-dozen ropes dangling from the gap in the broad corridor's ceiling.

  The second thing he saw was three men sprawled on the floor, fumbling for their weapons.

  The third thing was Rotus, halfway down one of the ropes, gaping in astonishment as Iolaus, wasting no time, waded into the rebels with the flat of his sword, and a fist.

  There was no time for anything fancy. One rebel sagged when the fist caught his chin. Another dropped when the sword smacked him across the cheek, laying open skin even as the rebel collapsed. A third Iolaus
clipped under the jaw with the heel of his boot.

  Trusting his friend to watch his back, Hercules ran for the rope Rotus was now desperately trying to climb back up. When he reached it, he grabbed it and yanked as he said, "Nice of you to hang around."

  The rope snapped as if it were straw.

  Rotus fell with a shriek.

  Hercules caught him, grinned, dropped him, picked him up under the shoulders, and slammed him into the wall.

  Rotus sighed and toppled forward.

  Hercules let him fall.

  And grunted when a fist clubbed him on the spine. He turned to face a man ... he blinked. It was a woman, with long black hair and raging green eyes, who hadn't expected him to turn. Instantly he reached out and clamped a hand on her head. She swung again, but her reach wasn't long enough, and Hercules forced her to his knees, leaned over, and said, ' 'If you want to live, friend, stay where you are and don't move."

  When he released her, Zarel tensed as if to charge.

  "I don't care if you're a woman or not," Hercules warned with a growl, and showed her his fist. "I've no time to be polite. Don't. Move."

  The rage in her eyes slipped quickly into outright fear, and she obeyed, frozen as a statue, lower lip quivering violently.

  Meanwhile, Iolaus had been backed against the doors by the two remaining rebels, one wildly swinging a sword at his midsection while the other danced from side to side, looking for a way to slip his own weapon under Iolaus' guard.

  "Hey!" Iolaus called when he saw Hercules watching.

  Hercules waved.

  Iolaus frowned, ducked, lashed out with a foot, ducked, sidestepped, and yelled, "Hey!"

  Hercules walked over to Rotus and planted a boot on his back when he noticed the man beginning to stir.

  "Hey, dammit!"

  Hercules pointed at the fallen leader. "I've got my hands full."

  Iolaus rolled his eyes in disgust, dodged a swing, ducked another, hesitated just long enough for one of the men to lunge, then sidestepped again.

  The rebel sword stabbed into the door, snapping in half and momentarily stunning its wielder. That was just long enough for Iolaus to put a foot into the rebel's chest and tumble him backward, allowing him, Iolaus, to turn his full attention to the second man.

  Who, as it turned out, wasn't too happy about such attention.

  He backed away.

  Iolaus' lips parted in a shark's smile, and he stepped forward.

  The rebel spun around to run, saw Hercules, spun back to defend himself, and dropped instantly when Iolaus clubbed him right in the center of his forehead.

  For a second the only noise was the sound of harsh breathing. And a couple of faint moans. And the muffled roar of the crowd.

  Iolaus stomped over to Hercules, not bothering to step over the bodies he encountered.

  "You could have helped."

  Hercules pointed downward. "I didn't want him to get away."

  "You're standing on him, for crying out loud! How's he going to get away?"

  "If I helped you, I wouldn't be standing on him."

  Frustrated, Iolaus slapped his thigh. "I have to do everything around here, don't I? Everything." He checked himself over and groaned. "Look at me! I'm all sweaty! How am I going to judge those women when I'm all sweaty!"

  "Venitia will love it."

  Iolaus glared. "Not funny, Herc. Not funny."

  Hercules thought it was, but Iolaus obviously wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. So he suggested they summon the guards to take care of the prisoners so they themselves could get back outside and prepare for the next step.

  Iolaus agreed, then stepped back and looked askance at his friend. "But you're not going to tell me this was part of the plan."

  Hercules shrugged.

  Iolaus pointed a trembling finger at him. "You ..." He pointed at Rotus. "He ..." He pointed at the doors just as the left one swung open. "They..." He slumped a little. "Not part of the plan."

  "We knew they were coming."

  "We thought they might come."

  "They did, right?"

  Iolaus' face reddened. "But it wasn't part of the plan!"

  Hercules exaggerated a scowl. "Iolaus. You're starting to sound like Titus."

  Iolaus looked close to exploding.

  "Relax," Hercules told him, and waved at the guards, who ran into the corridor, stopped, gaped, and by their expressions couldn't figure out what to do next. A few words from Hercules told them all they needed to know; by the time Iolaus had recovered his composure, the rebels were trussed and ranged against the wall.

  "Hercules."

  He looked up; it was Jocasta.

  "They're ready," she said, glancing at the scene as if she were used to seeing the results of a brawl. Then she spotted Rotus and walked over to him, gathering her shawl around her as if it were armor. "You murdered Jax," she said.

  Rotus sneered. "He was a traitor, just like you."

  Hercules and Iolaus saw her face at the same time, exchanged glances that suggested they probably didn't want to know what was going to happen next, and backed away toward the exit just as Titus stepped in.

  "What.. . ?" Flustered and confused, he looked from his wife to the fallen rebels to Hercules and back to his wife. "Oh, my."

  "It's over," Hercules told him. "The rebellion is over."

  The councillor blinked several times. ' 'They would have tried to ... ?" He pointed at his chest.

  "Yes."

  "Oh, my."

  "Don't get too confident, sir," Iolaus said then. "This is only the beginning."

  Once the guards had been given their instructions, Hercules and the others returned to the porch. Jocasta immediately went to the guests, to assure them nothing was wrong, just a small problem.

  Hercules held Titus back with a touch. "We know about Cire," he said, barely moving his lips, smiling at those who had turned to stare.

  "Ah." Titus clasped his hands at his waist and nodded. "Ah."

  "I don't understand. Why take a bribe?"

  Titus' smile was brief and rueful. "There is no pension for a tyrant, Hercules. Our house here isn't ours; everything is paid for by the city." He shrugged. "Entirely my fault. When I realized this was the last time, I took a look at what we had, and what we didn't have, and ..." He spread his hands. "I panicked."

  "Herc," Iolaus said anxiously, halfheartedly waving to an impatient Venitia. "We don't have much time."

  "The plan," Titus said.

  Hercules nodded. "Tell your captain not to be too anxious when he sees what's about to happen. We'll take care of it."

  "Unless he falls off," Iolaus said sourly.

  Titus frowned. "The captain?"

  Hercules sighed. "Look, just do it, Titus. The less you know, the better it will be. And whatever you do," he added, "do not pick a new queen."

  Titus opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He gathered his robes about him and, with a sickly smile, said, "I'm confused, but I'm in charge." And strode away.

  Iolaus rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. "Did he say what I thought he said?"

  "He did."

  "We're doomed, Herc. We're doomed."

  There was, however, no time for debate.

  Titus herded summer queen contestants away from their table and lined them up along the top of the first step, facing the plaza. The crowd screamed and cheered, banging drums and tooting horns for their favorites. Then he beckoned Iolaus and Hercules to his side. The crowd screamed and cheered, banging drums and tooting horns and waving ribbons and streamers. Slipping easily into the role, Iolaus waved both arms and grinned while the crowd screamed and cheered and tooted horns and banged drums, and Hercules felt the beginning of a monumental headache.

  He also saw the storm clouds.

  They were darker.

  And closer.

  As Iolaus studied each woman, one hand behind his back, the other stroking his chin, Hercules looked to the head of the boulevard. The small group of people there were tooting a
nd cheering just as robustly as those in the stands, but he could see the empty street behind them.

  He could see the approaching horseman.

  Glancing skyward, he silently offered a simple prayer for forgiveness from Demeter and Poseidon.

  The breeze grew stronger, and he swept a hand over his face to keep the hair from his eyes. At the same time he caught Iolaus' eye with a stern look that told him to hurry it up, this wasn't the only task they had to perform tonight.

  Iolaus nodded almost imperceptibly and stood with his back to the crowd, facing the nervous women.

  He smiled at them all.

  He smiled at the redhead in front of him, although the smile faltered somewhat when he saw the redhead standing next to the redhead in front of him.

  Twins? Hercules thought; nobody told us there were twins.

  He shifted over to Iolaus.

  "Well," Iolaus said. "Will you look at this?"

  "Lovely," Hercules answered, making a show for the crowd of being unable to make up his mind.

  Which he couldn't. Because neither of the redheads gave a sign to let him know which was which. Cire, apparently, had strong doubts about the plan.

  Then the redhead on the left muttered, "By the gods, will you hurry up, it's freezing out here."

  Iolaus grinned, and held out his hand to the redhead on the right.

  Cire gasped and almost took a step back, until Hercules said, "Congratulations, you'll be fine."

  She didn't move for several seconds.

  "Damn," Sana muttered. "I knew I should have worn the one without the top."

  Iolaus sputtered, but his hand remained steady.

  Finally, doubtfully, Cire took it.

  The plaza exploded in a frenzy of cheers and screams, the guests rose to their feet and applauded, trumpets were sounded from the roof of the council building, the women who hadn't been chosen were discreetly eased away by several acolytes, and Titus stepped forward to place an exquisitely wrought gold-leaf crown on Cire's head.

  Hercules hadn't thought the noise could get any louder.

  It did.

  Then Iolaus, murmuring assurances to an obviously terrified Cire, led her grandly down the steps and across the tiles to the shrine in the plaza's center.

  Hercules, with a reminding look at Titus, followed more slowly, amazed at the exuberant greeting the Themonians gave their new summer queen. He hadn't taken more than a few steps before he was nearly blinded by a blizzard of flowers and blossoms thrown by nearly everyone in the crowd.