I'm Free

This story answers the September 2003 challenge: write a story from the point of view of an "extra" who's life is directly or indirectly impacted by one of our heroes. Comments always welcome!

I noticed him right away. Granted, in a town of this size it was difficult not to notice strangers. But he stood out apart from the dusty travelers and weary soldiers that occasionally passed through the village. He was outgoing and friendly, talking to people with that easy manner of his, no trace of suspicion or mistrust in his handsome face. Unhurried, quick to smile and laugh, and full of energy that the daily trappings of life had innocuously sucked out of most of us. Despite his smaller size, he had the build of a warrior, although his blue eyes shone with kindness and compassion. He said he was waiting for someone... a friend.

He was an enigma. A man of mystery, and a definite breath of fresh air to our quiet little hamlet. I suppose that’s why I decided to keep a close eye on the stranger. A puzzle to decipher was a welcome diversion from the every day humdrum, and I welcomed the chance to live vicariously for a moment, no matter how remotely, through this well traveled stranger. For he was free. In the truest sense of the word, in a way I had never been.

So I watched him as he came and went through the marketplace. He wasn’t staying at the village inn, so I assumed he was probably camping at night in the woods alongside the town. Every day he would appear sooner or later, strolling casually through the square without a care in the world, nodding at those he passed amiably. No one else in town paid him much attention, but the reverse was certainly not true. I watched as he unobtrusively moved through the village, doling out good deeds. Helping a farmer unload heavy sacks of grain from his cart. Carrying a load of parcels for a lame old widow. Nailing down a few boards to make a young flower seller’s rickety stand sturdy and strong. One day he arrived with a line of rabbits and a string of fish. He sold them quickly then immediately turned around and spent the money on a basket of pastries, which he doled out to a group of street urchins that came flooding from the corners and alleys to flock around him. And he did it all without asking for payment or thanks.

He didn’t ask for anything. Up until the fifth day he’d arrived, when he came staggering into town, asking if we had a healer. I suppose I can’t really blame the townspeople for turning on him once they saw how sick he was. The village still hasn’t recovered from the epidemic last year, which took more people than it left alive. Memories of that horrible disease were still too fresh, the fear still too raw, making good people forget that they are good. They ordered him to leave the town before he brought death to all of us. And he obeyed, turning away, no anger or malice in his face. Just a sad understanding.

He didn’t get very far. A few steps out of the square, and then he sank down to his knees. I was afraid, too, but I made myself go to him. He was somebody special. I could see it even if the rest of them couldn’t. He was a good man. A philanthropic warrior, a gentle hunter, a soldier who’s crusade was to help those in need. And now he was the one needing help. I just couldn’t turn my back on that.

He didn’t want to come with me at first. He told me he was waiting for a friend, and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to find him when he arrived. I looked over my shoulder at the crowd of people watching us. Giving me looks of disgust, shaking their heads at my foolishness, clucking in pity and sympathy. One or two glances of admiration. But more than enough to witness my folly. I assured him that when his friend showed up, the villagers would direct him to my house. Only then he let me help him to his feet, and I led him to my small home on the outskirts of town. He said his name was Iolaus.

He got worse before he got better. But he bore his pain uncomplainingly, and he was grateful for even the smallest of kindnesses. A sip of water or a damp cloth on his fevered brow warranted a sweet smile of thanks that tore at my heart. I didn’t even know him, but I felt sick at the thought of losing him. So I took care of him the best I could, fighting the fever with everything I had, and praying to the gods to please spare his life. Not that it had done any good a year ago, when the epidemic had taken my entire family, leaving only me alive. But I had to try. I just couldn’t let him die.

He cried out for Hercules. I soothed him, thinking him delirious. Until the day the knock sounded upon my door. I knew who he was before he ever introduced himself. He was a big man, muscled, with the chiseled features of the gods. Normally, I suspect I would have been rendered speechless to find the son of Zeus on my doorstep. But he looked so worried as he inquired about his friend, I just bade him to enter and escorted him to the room at the back of the house.

I’d heard so many stories about the fearsome strength of the mighty Hercules. How he could overthrow the most brutal of warlords and tear monsters in half with his bare hands. I never would have expected the hero of Greece to be so gentle. But without a word he took over the care of his friend. Bathing his sweat soaked body with cool water, coaxing water and teas into him, tenderly brushing the golden curls back from his face, holding his hand hour after hour, whispering encouragement and support and pleas into his ear. I had known Iolaus was special, but until I saw the deep love Hercules had for his friend laid bare in his scared blue eyes, I didn’t realize just how remarkable this stranger to our town was. He must have been an amazing man indeed, if the son of Zeus held him in the ultimate regard.

It was a tense couple of days, but finally the insidious fever broke. Hercules was soon called away on a matter of urgency, and the care of Iolaus again fell to me. Not that there was much care that needed giving. He was rapidly regaining his strength and vigor, healing almost right before my eyes. While he fought off the residual weakness, he entertained me with stories of his adventures with Hercules, in between polishing off chores and repairs that needed to be done around the house. I argued that he should be resting, but he insisted he was fine and wanted to repay me for all I’d done. He didn’t seem to understand that what I’d done had been repayment to him.

All too soon it was time for him to go. I knew he had to move on, for there was a world out there that needed saving and Hercules needed his help. But he had been like a star dropping into my life, lighting it up with a warm glow. And I knew once he was gone, things would seem even more drab and dull in comparison. I couldn’t ask him to stay. I knew he wouldn’t, even if I did. So I said goodbye and wished him well. He looked at me for a moment, giving me that brilliant grin. Then he took me in his arms, hugging me tight and kissing me softly. And then he was gone. He had arrived as a stranger. But he left as a friend.

He told me that I saved his life. That if I hadn’t helped him, he would have died all alone, before Hercules found him. So maybe that’s it. I had questioned the Fates when my family was taken from me. In anguish, asking why I was fated to remain behind when everyone I loved was gone. And I couldn’t help wondering if I had finally gotten my answer. Maybe I was spared, because my purpose was to help Iolaus. To ensure that he would live to fight another day by Hercules’ side. And a more noble purpose than that I would be hard pressed to come up with.

But if that was my destiny, then what was left for me? Nothing but a severe case of wanderlust. Iolaus’ tales of adventure filled me with a longing to see the world he so richly described. Not that I had any desire to battle the forces of evil, but I became obsessed with seeing the sights that he had spoken of. His enthusiasm and lust for life turned out to be more contagious than his fever. So with his motivation, I packed up my few belongings and I left the only home I had ever known.

Yes, I’m afraid. I’ve never been outside the boundaries of my small village. But there’s an entire world out there, and I need to see it for myself. Good and bad. You can’t live if you don’t experience. A wise warrior told me that. And it’s high time I learned it for myself. So I’m off, to live the life of adventure and excitement, at least for a little while. I’m alive, and I’m finally free. And maybe, if the Fates are kind, I’ll get to see my golden inspiration one more time.

Finis

Challenge Index
Home
Iolausian Library