It was cold. Damp cold -- the kind that got keep down into your bones and stayed there. Even a heavy cloak wouldn't have kept you warm -- if he'd had a cloak. And his belly was empty. It seemed like this was becoming a permanent condition. Maybe he should have expected this, but that smell -- like his mother's kitchen when the warm loaves came out of the oven -- was driving him crazy. Must be a bakery around the corner. Or maybe it was just his imagination.
He knew he had to get out of the city. If he went up into the hills around town he might at least be able to find something to eat. He didn't have a bow to hunt with, but he might be able to fashion some snare traps with his small knife. And the way people looked at you here, like they knew you were. . .
"Alone?"
The question came from a figure standing half hidden in the shadows.
"You alone, boy?"
"What do you mean, 'alone'?"
"Got any family?"
Of course, he had family. And he wasn't a boy -- why did people have to call him that? After all he was sixteen now. Old enough to be a man, right?
"I don't know, Sim, he don't look like much."
Other figures had begun to materialize out of the darkness. They were all young -- his age and younger. Their clothing seemed to be a crazy patchwork of ill-fitting garments tied together with whatever was at hand. And their eyes -- their eyes looked so old.
"Have I ever led us wrong before, Kleobis?" Sim retorted. "So, boy, you got a name?"
"My name's Iolaus, son of Sk. . . . . .My name is Iolaus."
"Well, Iolaus, my name's Simonides -- they call me Sim. If you're looking for a place to hang out, I might be able to help. This here's MY family. I know, I know, they don't look like much, but in a scrape they'll stand by you -- more than I can say for my real folks. And you look like you could use something to eat. It won't be any fancy cuisine, but it'll fill the empty spot."
Automedusa found herself trudging up the hill to Alcmene's house. Usually when she went to visit her friend, her step was light and the way seemed short. But not today. Today the road seemed to go on forever. And she had never noticed before how many stones there were -- and how they bruised her feet.
Alcmene stood in her doorway watching her friend coming up the path. She could tell something was wrong.
"Iphicles, go get some fresh water from the well. It's a dusty day and Iolaus' mother will want a cool drink. Iphicles?? Why is it I can never seem to find that boy when I need him? Well, maybe some herbal tea will do."
Alcmene ladled some water from the kettle she kept simmering over the fire into a bowl filled with crushed leaves and flowers. After a few minutes, the tea had seeped and she poured off some of the steaming liquid into each of two cups.
"Here, Automedusa, try some of this. It always seems to cheer me up."
Suddenly Alcmene realized that there were drops of water running down her friend's cheeks -- tears.
"What's wrong, my friend?" she asked. "Has something happened?"
"Iolaus is gone."
"What do you mean, 'gone?' Gone hunting or fishing?"
"He left over a week ago and said he was going up into the hills to try and bring back some meat for the stew pot."
"Well," Alcmene replied, "You know Iolaus sometimes feels a little fenced in by the farm and the chores and needs to get away. And with all the new people settling around here, a lot of the men have complained that they've had to go farther and farther afield to find game."
"It's not just that he's been gone for a while."
"Then what is it?" Alcmene inquired.
"Something happened between Iolaus and Skuros the last time my husband was at home. . ."
"I noticed that Iolaus has been very quiet lately -- not exactly like himself."
"You know how much he wanted his father to take him along this time -- how much he wanted to be a soldier. I dreaded the day it would come, but I knew it was inevitable. I've been steeling myself against it for a long time. . ." Automedusa again seemed to drift off into her own private thoughts. "You know, when Iolaus was born," she continued, "there wasn't a man in Greece who was more overjoyed at the birth of his child than Skuros. I suppose some of it had to do with the fact that my husband never knew his own father -- he had such plans for his son. Iolaus would make Skuros proud. He would become a great warrior."
"But as the years passed, and Iolaus remained so small compared to other boys of the same age, I could see the brightness of those dreams fade from Skuros' eyes. His visits home became shorter and the time between them grew. Oh, he always had a good excuse -- this or that war or campaign simply couldn't do without him. . .how could he let his homeland down? . . .somebody had to do it. . .And I'm sure he believes his own arguments. I don't think he's ever admitted to himself the real reason he stays away. You know he can't even bring himself to call Iolaus by his own name -- just calls him 'boy'."
"I know," Alcmene whispered.
"But Iolaus was bound and determined to prove to his father that he could live up to Skuros' expectations," Automedusa went on with her story. "You know how good he's become with a bow. Why, there's many a night there'd be nothing in the pot except wild greens if it weren't for Iolaus' hunting ability. And he'd talked Prokles, the old soldier down in the village, into teaching him how to use a sword. Every now and then he's come home with a stray nick or cut and never complained. Prokles told me Iolaus is one of the best natural swordsmen he'd ever seen."
"And Skuros still refused to take Iolaus?" Alcmene asked. "Why? How could he?"
"Oh, he made the same excuses to Iolaus as he had before," Automedusa explained. "'You're too young. . .And your mother needs you here. . .The other children aren't old enough yet to take over your chores. . .' ."
"But that wasn't the real reason?"
"The night before he left, I broke down and confronted Skuros. 'How can you do this to your son?' I asked. 'Does he displease you that much?'"
"What did he say?"
"He told me he would be ashamed to take Iolaus into the soldiers' camp. He would be laughed at for having produced such a 'runt' for a son. I couldn't believe my ears! All I could do is shake my head in disbelief. All Skuros has ever seen is outside appearances. I feel sorry for him that he has never been able to see what's inside. Iolaus has a warrior's heart."
"I know," Alcmene whispered again.
"The worst of it is that I think Iolaus overheard our conversation. I thought I saw a shadow by the window, and later that night I saw him walking down toward the creek. His shoulders sagged and his step was like an old man's. I know it wasn't just the weight of the day's chores he was carrying. He looked so alone."
"Oh, no. That's so unfair of Skuros. Is there something you want me to do?" Alcmene asked.
"Yes, I suppose that's why I came. I know Hercules is due back from Corinth in a couple of days. Do you suppose he'd mind checking out some of his and Iolaus' favorite hunting and fishing spots? I keep hoping Iolaus has just gone off to be alone for a while -- maybe to think things out. Perhaps Hercules will know where to find him. I don't know -- I just keep hoping."
"Of course, Hercules will look for him. Once he finds out that Iolaus is gone, nothing could hold him back -- they've been friends for too long. And I'll bet Iolaus really is just out hunting. You watch -- this evening he'll come striding up the road with a doe slung across his shoulders and a big smile across his face -- just like his old self," Alcmene tried to reassure her old friend.
"You're right, Alcmene. I just know you are! And we'll roast the venison and celebrate Hercules' return from Corinth. Yes, we'll celebrate!"
"Today you're going to learn how to hunt," Simonides announced to his new-found companion.
"Oh, I already know how to hunt," Iolaus stated with confidence. "Why once me and Hercules even brought in a mountain lion!"
"Yeah, well, that's a different kind of hunting. And who's Hercules?"
"He's a friend of mine." Iolaus was surprised at how alone he suddenly felt at the thought of his old friend. What would Herc think if he knew he'd joined a street gang? "He was a friend of mine."
"Oh. Well, back to the hunting lesson," Sim reminded him. "See that vendor's booth over there? He always carries the best fruit in the whole city. No use 'hunting' from someone who carries second-rate merchandise. And he's always so busy he doesn't see half of what's going on. You kind of slide up to his booth -- acting real casual, of course, so nobody gets suspicious -- and put a couple apples under your shirt."
"There's a couple things you got to keep in mind. First, don't get too greedy. Nobody'll notice just a couple apples missing. A little here, and little there, and pretty soon you've got enough for supper for the whole gang. Second, don't panic and take off running. It's a sure give-away. And no matter how empty your belly is, don't start eating those apples out on the street -- another give-away. And besides, it belongs to the gang. We share equal."
"Wait a minute," Iolaus retorted, suddenly realizing what he was being asked to do. "That's not hunting, it's stealing!"
"Hunting. . .stealing. . .it's all the same thing. A body's got to eat, and I ain't seen any deer pass this way lately -- or mountain lions either for that matter."
"But why do I have to do it?" Iolaus asked.
"Because you've got to learn sometime, boy. And besides you're new in the city. See, it happens some of us already have a reputation. Them vendors see us and right off they call the magistrate -- even when we're not doing anything wrong -- which it turns out ain't very often. So now's as good a time as any to start your education -- so, go to it, boy."
Hercules knew right where to look -- at least he hoped he did. It was their 'secret' spot. Only he and Iolaus knew about it. They always went there by a slightly different way so that the trail wouldn't become too worn. Even the deer seemed to have trouble getting to it through the underbrush. Hercules smiled to himself. When it came to making his way through the woods, Iolaus was more like a rabbit. Nothing stopped him and he seemed to leave no trace of his passing except maybe for his scent. In fact, there were times when Hercules wondered if Iolaus left even that much of a trail.
Which might be why he was having a bit of trouble finding the place. Hercules might be developing a reputation for incredible strength, but Iolaus was known far and wide as the best woodsman of the two. In fact, he often joked that his obituary would read, "Son of Zeus loses life. He couldn't find his way out of the woods."
Again, he smiled to himself. They were the first smiles that had crept to his face since his mother had told him about Iolaus' disappearance. He knew there had always been trouble between Iolaus and his father. Nothing his friend did seemed to please Skuros. And Skuros was away so much of the time that he never really got the chance to see, let alone appreciate, his son's achievements. Hercules knew how that felt. In fact, it was a kind of unspoken bond between them. Each tried to make up to the other for what was missing in their lives, and each wishing to the gods that they didn't have to.
Although his thoughts seemed to be straying all over the landscape, Hercules' feet must have finally found the right direction, because suddenly he could see the clearing ahead. The natural formation of the rocks had dammed the small river creating a pool and a small waterfall. It was a great place to swim or fish. A small outcropping from a nearby cliff created a shelter. The tall trees around the clearing sheltered it from the winds and always provided more than enough firewood. Hercules always imagined that this must have been what the earth was like before men came along -- beautiful and innocent.
At any moment he expected to hear Iolaus humming a tune while he fished, or see his blond head bobbing in the pool while he swam. He was sure the smell of a wood fire would soon greet his nostrils, or better yet, the aroma of rabbit or fish roasting
"Iolaus? Iolaus? Where have you got yourself hidden?" Hercules called out. "You know you've got your mother worried half sick about you! Not to mention me!"
The only response Hercules got was the wind sighing through the trees and the babbling of the river over the rocks.
"Iolaus?" he called out again. Just then he spotted the boulder that hung out over the pool in the river. His friend liked to sit there when he fished. Unfortunately, he wasn't sitting there now. But there was something there. As he approached, Hercules heart dropped -- he knew what was laying there even before he was really close enough to see it. One of the items was a bow that he had passed on to Iolaus when it became apparent that his rapidly increasing strength was on the verge of shattering it. The other was the medallion Iolaus always wore around his neck -- his father's medallion. His friend knew that Hercules would come here looking for him. These things were his farewell message. Whatever Iolaus' life had been, he was leaving it behind here on this rock -- and leaving Hercules. . .alone.
"You should have moved faster -- expect the unexpected! All this education I'm giving you won't do much good if you get your head busted open. Which pretty much looks like what you've gone and done. You're bleeding pretty good."
"Yeah, tell me something I don't know, Sim," Iolaus snapped back, trying to see through the blood running down into his right eye.
"Lydia ought to be able to sew that right back up for you," Sim continued.
"Lydia? You mean the girl that sews up our boots?"
"You got any better ideas? Sewing's sewing. Like I said, next time you got'a move a little faster."
"I'll remember that."
"But Automedusa, you've never missed the harvest festival! Surely you don't expect me to go alone?" Alcmene exclaimed.
"You won't be going alone and you know it!" Automedusa replied. "You're going with Iphicles and Hercules."
"But it's not the same without you and your family." Alcmene almost wished she had bitten her tongue at the mention of the word 'family'. "Automedusa, I know what it's like to lose members of your family. I've been down that road myself. But you still have children. They need you to be strong. They need you to be their mother. If you give up, what kind of lives will they have?"
"I know you're right, Alcmene, but it just doesn't seem like there's much to celebrate."
"Celebrate what you do have, even in the midst of your losses -- the plentiful harvest, your children's health, the caring of your best friend. . ."
"All right, we'll go. I'll do it for my family -- and for my friend."
"Whoever thought up this harvest festival thing really had a great idea!" Simonides exclaimed to his blond friend. "All that work of 'educating' you is really gonna pay off!"
"I don't understand. Why is this any different than the rest of the year?" Iolaus asked.
"Because," Sim explained, trying to be as patient as possible with his star pupil. "All the hicks from the sticks'll be coming to town. It's been a good harvest from what I've hear, so they'll all have the weight of a few extra dinars in their pockets -- which we will be more than happy to relieve them of. And seeing's how they're farm folk and not used to our sophisticated urban ways, they'll be easy picking. I can almost hear those dinars jangling in our pockets now. We'll be rich -- at least for a little while."
"But I don't have any pockets!"
Sim could only shake his head in mock despair. "It's a figure of speech!"
It seemed strange coming to the harvest festival without Iolaus. As he became older and more aware of his differences from the other boys, Hercules had become quieter and more withdrawn. At times like this it helped to have Iolaus around to help him remember how to smile and have a good time. In fact, since Iolaus had left, smiling was something he had done very little of. But he had promised his mother that he would do his best to be cheerful and see to it that Automedusa and her children had a good time. Alcmene had said that they needed all the cheering up they could get.
The streets were filled with magicians, acrobats and musicians, all hoping their performances would encourage onlookers to drop a dinar or two into their kettle or basket. There were even a few poets telling old tales of gods and heroes. And the vendor's booths stretched far beyond the normal boundaries of the market place. There were colorful fabrics, intricately made jewelry, jars and urns of wonderfully decorated pottery, and, of course, food! The aromas that filled the air were almost beyond bearing. One booth in particular displayed loaves and pastries that seemed fit for the gods themselves.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Hercules noticed a movement. Several loaves of bread that he could have sworn were there suddenly disappeared. At first he thought it was one of the street magicians performing a trick for his amusement, but all he could see was a ragged street urchin making his way through the crowd. Hercules simply shook his head in a kind of pity until he realized that something about the way this boy moved somehow seemed familiar.
Fighting his way through the throng of jostling people, Hercules tried not to let the street kid out of his sight, but it seemed like he was fighting a losing battle. There were too many people, all moving in different directions. And this was obviously well-known territory to the other boy. He seemed to know every twist and turn -- and every dead end.
Which was exactly where Hercules found himself. "Why am I doing this?" he asked himself. "He only took a couple loaves of bread -- at least from what I could tell -- and he probably does what he has to just to keep from starving. I suppose in the middle of all this abundance, no one will miss a couple loaves of bread."
But that nagging sense of something familiar just wouldn't leave him alone. Unfortunately, he seemed to have lost the trail. Too bad Iolaus wasn't here. Somehow Hercules imagined that his friend would be able to follow a quarry even in the middle of the city.
"Here, Sim. Five dinars! And each one out of a different pocket. No one'll ever know they're missing. We're rich! Oh -- and here's lunch."
"Great -- I knew you had it in you, boy -- ah, Iolaus."
"I guess you finally learned my name!"
"Yeah, well, I suppose you just graduated out of boyhood. Did you happen to get close enough to that old poet to hear any of his stories? I just love all those tales about gods and heroes. Hey, Iolaus, maybe someday they'll write stories about us!"
"Yeah, right!"
The voices came out of the shadows at the end of the alleyway. Suddenly Hercules knew why the figure of that street urchin looked so familiar. If he lived to be a hundred -- and being a demi-god he just might -- he'd never forget that voice.
"Iolaus!"
Nothing but silence answered.
"Iolaus! I know you're here. Come out!" Hercules demanded.
Slowly, two figures emerged from the shadows. One was dark-haired and fairly tall. The other was shorter, and underneath a rather dirty-looking cap -- blond.
"What do you want?" Iolaus called out.
"What do you mean 'What do I want?' I want to know what you're doing here. Why'd you run away from home? Your mother's been really worried. And it's been so lonely since you've been gone."
"I went away so HE'D come back." Iolaus answered.
"I don't understand. What are you talking about?"
"Do you think I don't know -- that I haven't always known? Father stayed away because of me. He was ashamed of me. Now that I'm not there, he'll come back home."
"Iolaus, that's not going to happen."
"How do you know? It could happen."
"No Iolaus, your father's never coming back." Another voice answered from farther down the alley. The bright sun from the street made it hard to see the speaker, but Iolaus knew immediately who it was.
"Mother! What are you doing here?"
"Actually," Automedusa replied, "we were looking for Hercules. You sister thought she saw him turn into this alley. How are you, son?"
"I'm doing okay. Really, I'm doing great! Dinars in my pocket -- food in my belly!"
"I've never known you to have any pockets, Iolaus, and I'm not sure that loaf of bread qualifies as a meal."
"Mother, it's just a figure of speech! And how do you know father's never coming back?"
Telling Iolaus was not going to be easy, but somehow Automedusa could find no way around the truth. "Your father's dead, Iolaus. He's been killed -- in battle."
"NO!" Beneath the ragged cap blue eyes flared at her. "You're lying. You're just saying that to get me to come back home!"
"No, Iolaus. It's the truth. Do you think I'd tell you a lie like that"?
The anger and defiance in those blue eyes began to fade -- replaced by regret and grief.
"But he can't be. How will I ever. . ." Iolaus' words trailed off. So much was going through his head and his heart. It would take many years and many experiences before Skuros' son would understand them all.
"Come on, Iolaus," said Hercules. "It's time to go home."
"Do you remember when we used to come to these harvest festivals when we were kids?" Hercules asked his companion.
"Yeah, I remember. Except that now that I'm older I can really appreciate them." Iolaus' eyes followed the swaying hips of one of the local beauties. "Why?"
"You remember the year you ran away from home? You don't talk about it much. It must have been quite an adventure."
"Yeah, if you call being ragged, dirty and hungry and adventure! Not to mention getting whacked in the head." Iolaus rubbed his hand over the small scar above his eye. "Speaking of hungry, do you smell that wonderful aroma coming from down the street?"
"Iolaus, is that why you're always eating?"
"Hey, you try going hungry for a while -- after that you make sure you take every opportunity to eat that comes along!"
The two friends wandered among the crowd, enjoying the sights, sounds and tastes of the festival.
"Hercules, do you think he would have come back?"
"What do you mean, Iolaus? Who would have come back?"
"My dad -- do you think he would have come back if he'd lived?"
"Why? Because you left home?"
"Yeah. . ."
"Iolaus, whatever your father did it was because of what was inside himself -- not because of you. In some ways I think our fathers are a lot alike. They seem to carry some internal burden that keeps them from getting close to people -- especially their sons. Maybe they're afraid of caring too much -- they might get hurt."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"I know I'm right!"
"Herc, look there! Is that who I think it is?" Iolaus suddenly blurted out, changing the subject. "Sim -- is that you?"
The man sitting under the small canopy looked up from tuning his harp. "Iolaus! It's great to see you! How's your mother and stepfather?"
"Oh, they're great! But they have been wondering why you haven't come to see them lately."
"Well, Iolaus," Simonides replied, "you can't believe all the people who want to hear my songs and poems. I've been traveling all over Greece -- and I haven't had to pick a pocket in years!"
"I suppose those couple years you spent with my family really paid off -- a lot better than that 'education' you tried to give me!"
"Iolaus, I told you someday they'd be writing stories about us. I just didn't know I'd be the one writing them!"
"By the way, Simonides, I've got a bone to pick with you!" Iolaus retorted. "How come in all those poems you write about my friend Hercules, here, you never seem to get around to mentioning ME?"
"Iolaus, I swear by the gods I'm going to rectify that! Sit down and listen to my latest song. You're gonna love it. It's called 'Hercules and the Boy'!"
Author's note: If anyone is interested in an alternate view of the life of the poet Simonides, they might like to read Mary Renault's book THE PRAISE SINGER.
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