Treachery

May 2003 First Line Challenge: Write a story beginning with the line of dialogue: "Assuming we do get out of here, what are we going to do?"

"Assuming we do get out of here, what are we going to do?"

“Oh, we’re getting out of here,” Hercules promised vehemently, glancing around the room, wondering how he had ever been talked into attending a symposium in the first place. “Then I guess we’ll have to try and get a room at the inn.”

“You know that will be considered rude,” Iolaus teased, lifting a ridiculously ornate mug and taking a sip of sweet, dark wine.

“So, you’d rather spend the night here?” the demigod asked dryly, purposely baiting his friend.

“On the other hand, we’ve never been ones to follow convention,” the hunter quickly reasoned. While he found the debates of local politics and philosophies boring, the endless stream of extravagant culinary delicacies and pampering more than made up for the windbagging that went on in the early stages of symposiums. And, of course, the hetaerae were definitely easy on the eyes, to say the least. But when the hour grew late and the wine barrels grew empty, Iolaus had no desire to be trapped with a group of wealthy Athenians in all their drunken hedonistic glory. Especially since there were bound to be a few that were gender indiscriminate, and he was, to put all modesty aside, an incredibly handsome man.

“Excuse me, Hercules.” One of the serving boys approached them, bowing apologetically at the interruption. “The gentleman on the end requested that you join him.”

“I’m flattered, but not interested,” the demigod replied firmly, shooting his partner a sharp “shut up” look before the hunter could even comment.

“Please, Hercules,” the boy begged with uncharacteristic urgency. “He just wishes a brief audience. He said it was a matter of life or death.”

“All right,” Hercules sighed, getting to his feet.

“Wait a minute, Herc,” Iolaus protested. “You can’t leave me here alone.”

“I’d be worried if I thought you had any virtue left to protect,” the demigod told him airily. “As it is, I think you’re capable of handling yourself.”

“As long as that’s all that gets handled,” the hunter muttered under his breath, settling back on the couch that was just big enough for two. He looked around warily, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and exposed. Iolaus tried to tell himself he was being ridiculous, but when he caught the eye of a man across the room, winking at him while he made a suggestive show of eating an olive, the hunter quickly grabbed the nearest hetaerae and pulled her down on the couch next to him, suddenly very interested in a private flute performance.

The boy escorted Hercules through the andron to a couch at the end of the room where a middle aged man was waiting. He waved at the demigod to sit and pressed a few coins into the boy’s hand before dismissing him. Hercules sat down next to him, still a bit suspicious as to the stranger’s motives, but his curiosity had been piqued by the man’s gesture of tipping a servant, which was unheard of at a symposium.

“I’ve been watching you,” the man announced, pouring his guest a mug of wine from the jug on the table next to the couch. “You don’t appear to be enjoying yourself.”

“Well, this type of thing isn’t really my style,” Hercules confessed, removing the flower garland with which he’d been adorned upon entering the symposium and tossing it aside.

“Then why are you here?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question all night,” the demigod grinned, accepting the mug he was handed and taking a sip. “I guess it’s due to Antenor’s powers of persuasion.”

“He’s not one to take ‘no’ for an answer,” the stranger agreed. “You know him well?”

“I don’t know him at all,” Hercules answered. “My friend and I were just here to stop a war. Antenor’s estate would have been caught in the middle, so he’s grateful to us for preventing what I imagine would have been a very costly loss of property for him. He insisted on this symposium in our honor, even though I tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary. I was just trying to keep a lot of people from getting killed on Ares’ whim, but as you said, Antenor doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“So it is true what they say?” the man queried softly, sitting up straighter and fixing an intense gaze on his companion. “You are a champion for mankind?”

“I don’t know about that,” the demigod replied uncomfortably. “I just try to help people when I can.” He also sat up straighter, fixing an equally intense gaze on the man beside him. “And now I’m not saying anything else until you tell me what this is all about.”

“Forgive me,” the man murmured, relaxing a bit. “I’m sorry for the interrogation. But I had to make sure that I could trust you. You see, I’m risking my life just being here. My name is Laocon, and I’m aligned with a statesman called Solon. And if Antenor knew that, I’d be at Hades’ doorstep before I even knew what hit me.”

“I take it Antenor and this Solon don’t get along,” Hercules surmised.

“That’s one way to put it,” Laocon said with a faint smile. “Which is why you were an answer to my prayers when I saw you here tonight. Hercules, I need your help to stop Antenor from assassinating Solon.”

“Wait a minute,” the demigod commanded him. “I think you’d better back up and start from the beginning.”

“Solon is also a lawgiver,” Laocon explained. “In two days’ time he’s going to instate a law that will abolish debt slavery. Antenor works his land and runs his estate on the sweat of poor farmers that can’t afford to pay their debts. Without this constant source of free labor, he stands to lose a lot of his profits.”

“So, naturally, he would do anything to stop this law from being passed,” Hercules concluded, glancing across the room to where their host was engaged in a loud, wine fueled diatribe with another guest. “I’ll admit, Antenor didn’t impress me as having much character, but I wouldn’t have thought he’d be capable of murder.”

“He’s already tried reasoning with Solon, as well as several bribery attempts. Antenor went to see Solon a few days ago, and when he was dismissed yet again, he took off in a rage, leaving a few thinly veiled threats behind.”

“Why haven’t you gone to the magistrate with this?”

“With what?” Laocon sighed helplessly. “Antenor hasn’t done anything yet. I don’t have any proof that he’s planning anything, just some scattered rumors. And he hasn’t come right out and declared any intent to cause Solon harm. So legally, there’s nothing anyone can do. Solon, himself, isn’t even taking these threats seriously. I begged him to hire some extra guards, but he just says that he’ll be fine with the local constabulary. But it wouldn’t surprise me if they were already in Antenor’s pockets.”

“I don’t know what I can do,” Hercules said regretfully. “I answer to the law, just like any other man. So if Antenor hasn’t committed any crimes, then my hands are tied as well.”

“I would just beg of you to stay here in Athens,” Laocon pleaded. “I’ll see to your needs if you stay. The Assembly is only two days away, and it is my hope that you and your friend can prevent trouble before it starts. Once the law is passed, Antenor will be powerless to do anything about it and Solon will be safe. Who knows, maybe your presence here will be enough to deter whatever foul deeds he’s planning. In any case, I’d sleep much more soundly knowing I had an ally that I could trust on our side.”

“All right,” the demigod agreed, for he abhorred slavery and was more than willing to do his part to see the practice stopped in Athens. “We’ll stay a few more days. And I’ll keep a close eye on both Antenor and Solon until the law is passed.”

“Thank you, my friend,” the man told him, vastly relieved. “The stories do not do your noble heart justice.”

“Then you haven’t been listening to the right ones,” Hercules grinned, clapping him on the shoulder as he got to his feet. “Have Iolaus tell you a tale or two sometime.”

The demigod headed back to rejoin his partner, wondering how he was going to break the news to him that they would be riding out the symposium until dawn after all.

“Do you think we’re making him nervous?”

Iolaus didn’t need to turn around, his instincts already having alerted him to the fact that they were being watched as they dined underneath the canopy that was adjacent to the tavern. And it didn’t take much imagination to figure out who the watcher was.

“Either that, or he is just in complete awe of two extraordinary warrior specimens,” the hunter suggested, mopping up the gravy on his plate with a slice of bread.

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s the latter,” Hercules murmured wryly, letting his blue-eyed gaze settle on Antenor. The landowner quickly turned away upon realizing he’d been caught staring, pretending to be devoutly interested in the wares for sale in the bustling market.

“I’ll let you know,” Iolaus promised, draining his mug before hopping up from the table. “My spy has news for me.”

“Wait a minute,” the demigod halted his partner. “What spy?”

“You remember the hetaerae from the symposium? The redhead with the flute?”

“Not as well as you, apparently.”

“She turned out to be very sympathetic to our cause,” Iolaus informed him. “And she promised to let me know if she found out anything. I got a message this morning to meet her on the Pynx at noon.”

“How do you know you can trust her?”

“Oh, come on. Do you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell if she were lying?” The hunter paused as his partner arched an eyebrow at him, thinking back to all the lovely women that had suckered him at one time or another. “All right, don’t answer that. But this time is different. It’s strictly business, no funny stuff going on. So I promise I’m thinking with my head and not with my...”

“Ok, I get the point,” Hercules interrupted, holding up a hand. “Just be careful, all right?”

“When am I ever not careful?” After another pause and obligatory eyebrow arching, Iolaus grinned sheepishly at his friend. “On second thought, don’t answer that one, either. Meet you back here for dinner?”

Hercules agreed, and after exchanging a brief shake, Iolaus left and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd. But glancing across the agora, the demigod saw that his watcher had not likewise moved on.

“What are they still doing here?” Antenor hissed in annoyance, not expecting or desiring his small entourage of lackeys to respond.

“You think they could be trouble?”

“Hercules is a known do-gooder,” the landowner growled at the bootlicker who had dared ask such a stupid question. “Yes, I think it’s safe to assume he might have a problem with what we have in mind for tomorrow night.” He fixed his steely gaze on the demigod, no longer caring if he was seen, bristling when Hercules raised a mug to him in mock salute.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Do?” Antenor glared at his comrades. “Hercules is half-god, you fools. He has the strength of ten men and certainly more cunning than you possess. There is nothing that you idiots can do to prevent him from stopping us.”

“So, I guess that law is going to get passed then.”

“It will not,” the landowner thundered, the mere thought of defeat making him red in the face with fury. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. “If that law passes, I’m ruined,” he declared soberly. “I will not allow that to happen, and not even Hercules is going to stand in my way.”

“But you just said that he couldn’t be stopped,” one of the men protested.

“Not by you,” Antenor said disdainfully. He paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “No, what this situation calls for is a distraction. We divert Hercules’ attention, and then we’ll be free to carry on with our own agenda.”

“But how do we divert his attention?”

“That is the lesson of the day, my friends,” Antenor announced, good cheer replacing his formerly dark mood. “You must know your enemy’s weaknesses, and then use them against him.”

“But you said Hercules had the strength of ten men.”

The landowner rolled his eyes and sighed, his patience wearing thin.

“His strength follows his bleeding heart. We just need to ensure that he follows it away from here.”

Antenor glanced around, seeing only blank looks among his company.

“Never mind,” he grumbled, turning to push through the crowds. The men all shrugged at each other, then fell into line behind him as he led the way to Hera’s temple.

“Hercules!” Laocon visibly startled as the tavern door swung open and he almost collided with the man he had come to see. “Leaving so soon? I was hoping I could entice you and Iolaus to a late dinner at my house.”

“Maybe some other time,” the demigod murmured distractedly, pushing past the man and heading off down the street.

“Hercules, I really must speak to you,” Laocon called out, going after him and finding he had to trot to keep up. “I need to talk to you about the Assembly tomorrow.”

“I can’t right now,” Hercules sighed, glancing at the smaller, stouter man dogging him and obligingly slowing his pace a bit. “Iolaus is missing.”

“What do you mean?”

“He went off on his own to do some recognizance, but he never came back.”

“Perhaps he just got delayed.”

“Maybe,” the demigod murmured. He’d been trying to tell himself that his incorrigible friend and his spy had probably lost track of time while making the transition from ‘strictly business’ to ‘funny business’, but in his heart he knew better. “I have a bad feeling that something’s happened to him. I have to find him.”

“I’ll go with you,” Laocon panted. “We can talk on the way.”

But Hercules didn’t hear much of what his companion was saying, for his thoughts were focused on his partner. He hadn’t liked the smug smirk of satisfaction Antenor had thrown him earlier that day as he left the agora, and he was suddenly left very afraid that Laocon had been right and there were no lines that the landowner would not cross to get what he wanted.

They arrived at the Pynx, but found no sign of Iolaus on the peaceful hillside. Hercules led the way to the far slope, which faced away from the city and was more secluded with small trees and shrubs. And it was not long before they came upon a body, cold and lifeless and partially covered with leaves and ferns.

“Please tell me that’s not Iolaus’ spy,” Laocon whispered, feeling sick.

“She was,” Hercules replied softly, sorrow heavy in his voice. He gently stroked the silky, red hair, stained darker with blood, as Laocon removed the cloak from his shoulders and covered the girl, bowing his head in respect. The demigod stood up, running a hand over the back of his neck as his scared blue eyes scanned the area, trying desperately to piece together what had happened.

“Hercules, look.” Laocon took a few steps behind them and plucked something from the ground, examining it closely.

“What is it?”

“A feather,” the man told him, holding it out for him to see. “But I’ve never seen one like it before.”

“I have,” Hercules muttered, taking the object from him. It was as long as his arm and so white it was almost glowing. And there was only one bird that could have dropped it. “It’s from the white eagle. My father’s bird.”

“Zeus?” Laocon said in awe. “But why would...?”

“I don’t know,” the demigod scowled fiercely, trying to swallow back the rage that boiled up in his gut. “But I’m going to find out.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“The eagle has a nest on Mt. Cithaeron,” Hercules explained. “I’m going after it, and I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Now?” Laocon demanded.

“Of course now,” the demigod told him, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. “If this bird took Iolaus, he could be hurt. There’s no time to waste.”

“Hercules,” Laocon began, as gently as he could. “Iolaus is dead.”

“You don’t know that,” Hercules spat angrily.

“Look at what it did to the girl,” he reasoned. “Iolaus was a brave warrior, but if he was here, then he surely did not escape the onslaught.”

Laocon reached out and put a consoling hand on the demigod’s arm, feeling him shaking as he turned away. His own heart ached at the naked grief and sorrow he glimpsed in Hercules’ eyes, but after a moment, the demigod’s shoulders squared and he turned back to face him, a steely fire burning anew in the blue depths.

“No,” Hercules insisted, shaking his head slightly. “Something isn’t right here. The white eagle is a messenger, not a killer.” He went back to the body of the unfortunate girl and uncovered her. “These wounds are too clean to have been made by a bird,” he concluded, kneeling beside the body and taking a closer look. “She wasn’t killed by an animal, but rather a man with a knife or a dagger.”

“I fear Antenor is behind this,” Laocon lamented.

“In league with one of the gods, no doubt,” the demigod growled, casting a dark look to the heavens. He gently recovered the girl and got to his feet. “See that she gets a proper burial. I’m going after Iolaus.”

“Hercules...”

“Until I know for sure that he’s dead, I have to assume he’s alive,” Hercules cut him off in mid-protest. “I’m going to find him, and this feather is the only lead I have to follow.”

“You’ll never make it to Mt. Cithaeron and back before the Assembly,” Laocon argued. “And if you leave now, you’re handing Solon a death sentence. I’m sorry about your friend, Hercules, I really am. But you can’t guarantee that you’ll find him in one piece. You should stay here, and protect the man that you know you can help.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” the demigod said softly, his gaze drifting to the outline of the mountain on the horizon.

“It’s not just Solon’s life at stake,” Laocon pleaded with him. “If he dies, his abolishment of debt slavery law dies with him. But more than that, I’m afraid that one of Antenor’s cronies will be elected lawgiver in his place. And that will be the end of democracy in Athens. Antenor and the other landowners will get even richer, and there will be nothing for the farmers and tradesmen but poverty and hopelessness and abuse. Please, Hercules. As a champion of mankind, you cannot put the life of one man above an entire city of innocents.”

“Without Iolaus, I’m no good to mankind,” Hercules whispered, having learned that lesson the hard way. He stood for long moments, torn and tormented as he glanced back and forth between the mountain ahead of him and the city behind him. Everything Laocon said made sense, at least to his head. But his heart was telling him something different. It might have looked bad, but Iolaus had proven time and again he had a knack for surviving. So until he saw for himself that his partner was dead, Hercules knew he had every reason to believe that the crafty hunter was still alive. And as he once told Nebula when all appeared lost, he never gave up on people. Especially not people he loved. Finally he turned and took Laocon’s hand in a warrior’s shake. “Do what you can here,” he instructed. “I’m going after Iolaus, but I promise you I will not let anything happen to Solon.”

“How can you possibly be two places at once?” Laocon demanded as the demigod began to sprint off toward the mountain.

“Trust me,” Hercules called out over his shoulder, although in truth, he was wondering the same thing himself.

He ran long and hard through the night, and dawn found Hercules at the base of Mt. Cithaeron, staring up at the apex. It was a tall mountain, but fortunately not as steep as some. A small favor for which he was grateful as he began the long climb up. He did it freehand, and only after he had made it halfway did it occur to him that he should have brought a rope to aid in the descent back down. Especially if Iolaus was injured and unable to free climb down on his own. But the demigod decided to worry about that later as he lost his footing and slipped a few inches along the smooth rock. First he had to get up there, and then he’d worry about getting back down when the time came. With Iolaus, for he simply could not envision any other scenario than getting his best friend back alive.

It was midday before he finally could see a gigantic nest resting on a ledge that jutted out of the side of the mountain. Hercules continued his ascent, moving quickly but cautiously, knowing all too well that he was an easy target while clinging to the side of a mountain, exposed and vulnerable. He could detect no movement from any direction, and he heard only the wind whistling past his ears as he climbed undisturbed, finally reaching the ledge. But a slight chill ran through him, nevertheless, and he instinctively knew that danger lurked close by, even if it chose not to make itself known.

The nest looked like any other, except on a much larger scale, made out of whole trees instead of twigs and sticks. However, the twisted branches made it much easier to scale than a mountainside and Hercules effortlessly clambered up over the edge. He reached the top and dropped down into the heart of the nest, spying Iolaus lying bound to the floor. Instantly he was beside his friend, removing the gag from his mouth.

“It’s a trap,” the hunter told him earnestly.

“I know,” the demigod shrugged, breaking the rest of his bonds and helping him sit up while looking him over critically. He had a few cuts and bruises but generally seemed to be ok. “Are you all right?”

“I will be,” Iolaus assured him, shaking his hands rapidly. “As soon as I get the feeling back in my arms and legs.”

“Make it quick,” Hercules urged as men began pouring over the edge of the nest. He squeezed his friend’s shoulder and leapt to meet their assailants, trying to cover for his partner until he was ready for battle. Iolaus got to his feet carefully, jumping up and down a few times to get the circulation going again and then rushed to the demigod’s side. He winced painfully at the pins and needles that shot up his arm as his fist connected with a jaw, but his discomfort was nothing compared to his opponent’s, judging by the way the man crumpled to the ground. The uneven terrain of the nest did not make their fight an easy one, but the seasoned warriors had the more developed senses of balance and, therefore, the advantage. Soon the nest was littered with unconscious bodies, and Iolaus surveyed the scene with no small measure of satisfaction.

“Antenor’s going to have to do a lot better than that.”

A dark shadow fell over them, causing both men to look up. Immediately, the grins of victory vanished from their faces and the hunter cursed himself for having opened his big mouth.

“How about that?” Hercules asked wryly as the giant bird circled above them.

“Yeah,” Iolaus sighed. “That’ll do.”

Not having anywhere else to go, they backed up as far as they could until they hit the wall of the nest. It was small protection, but better than nothing. And then there was nothing to do but wait for what seemed like hours until the great eagle finally came down, landing on the edge of it’s nest and staring at them with large, dark eyes.

“You have a plan, right?” the hunter whispered to his friend.

“No,” Hercules replied, glancing hopefully at his partner. “Why, do you?”

The bird was a magnificent, majestic creature, both in size and appearance. It’s feathers were the purest white, gleaming so brightly in the afternoon sun that the men almost had to look away. There was no doubt that the razor sharp talons gripping the nest and the strong, hooked beak were formidable weapons, but there did not appear to be any malice in the dark, liquid eyes. The bird cocked it’s head, almost like it was curiously studying the invaders to it’s home.

“You know,” Iolaus commented. “I’ve never expected Zeus to help us out over the years, but I never thought he’d ever go against us outright.”

“Maybe he’s not,” Hercules murmured, watching the bird closely as it suddenly closed it’s eyes and shook it’s head. It trembled for a moment, then opened it’s eyes with a deafening shriek. And there was no mistaking the murderous intent behind the creature’s gaze as it spread it’s massive wings and sprung down into it’s nest.

With startling reflexes, the demigod snatched a large tree branch from the wall of the nest and used it as a shield to block the deadly talons. The bird screamed again and slashed at him, sending a spray of wood chips into the air and he knew that the branch, substantial as it was, wasn’t going to last long. A plan definitely would come in useful. He spared a glance to his partner to see if he had come up with one, but Iolaus was draped over a log in the nest, his upper body wedged into a crack.

“What are you doing?” the demigod yelled at him.

He received a muffled reply, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘fishing’. But before he could ask for clarification, the eagle attacked again, and he had to turn his attentions to keeping himself from being shredded. Therefore he missed Iolaus’ triumphant catch as the hunter managed to snag the sword he’d knocked out of one of his opponent’s hands. The blade had slipped down into a gap in the floor of the nest, but Iolaus had caught the handle with a stick and eased it back up to him. With weapon in hand, the hunter was more than ready to join the fray and even the playing field a bit. The eagle was focused on Hercules and ignored him as he scooted up to it’s side, ready to plunge his steel up under the wing. He tensed himself, preparing to thrust with all his strength as the bird raised up for another attack.

“Iolaus, wait!”

The moment was perfect. His target was clear, his aim was true, and he wasn’t likely to get another opportunity. Waiting just wasn’t an option he wanted to consider. But the hunter obediently halted his assault and pulled back, trusting his partner explicitly, even if he didn’t like it.

“Wait for what?”

“Go for the collar,” Hercules called out.

“What collar?” Iolaus shouted back. But the demigod disappeared behind his rapidly disintegrating shield as he blocked another attack. The wood splintered and finally snapped and Hercules whipped the two halves at the bird to distract it while he tried to run for cover. Iolaus was confused and frustrated at first, until the eagle bent down to snap at the retreating demigod. Fortunately, it missed, but with it’s head down the hunter could clearly see a band of metal encircling it’s neck, almost hidden by the lustrous feathers. Hoping that Hercules would be able to hold his own until he got into position, Iolaus nimbly climbed up the wall of the nest until he was level with the eagle’s back. Grasping his sword tightly, he jumped, scrambling slightly for a hold in the silky feathers as the bird bucked in surprise.

The demigod attacked the eagle, trying to distract it from it’s passenger long enough for Iolaus to be able to work. He managed to get hold of the massive beak, pinning it shut against the floor of the nest but knowing that even his great strength was no match for the power of the great bird. And once his grip was broken, he’d be at the mercy of the creature.

“Hurry, Iolaus,” he pleaded as the eagle almost broke free. Summoning every last bit of strength he had, Hercules regained the upper hand, but he was beginning to quake with the effort of holding the bird down.

Suddenly, he was thrown backward as the eagle escaped his restraint. The bird reared up with a loud cry and Iolaus landed hard on the floor a few feet away from him with a sickening crunch. Ignoring the imminent danger, Hercules scooted over to his friend, terrified that he was hurt.

“Iolaus,” he called out softly, touching his shoulder gently, afraid to do more and cause more damage.

“Old Hunter’s Trick,” came the tight groan.

Hercules looked behind him as a loud thunk sounded. A band of metal had hit the floor of the nest, a sword still embedded in the lock, which was forged in the shape of a peacock eye. When he looked back down at his friend, Iolaus had his eyes open and gave him a faint grin.

“Are you all right?” the demigod asked, failing to hold back his own smile.

“Yeah,” the hunter replied. “Just knocked the wind out of me.”

Hercules helped him to sit up, then turned back to face the eagle. The bird had stilled, shaking it’s head slightly and looking at them almost in confusion. Taking a chance, the demigod got to his feet and moved across the nest where the collar had fallen. The eagle didn’t move, so he picked up the heavy metal band and examined it, glaring at the mark of his stepmother.

“Hera must have been using this to somehow control the eagle,” he deduced, tossing the collar away. “She must have been able to force it to carry out her bidding.” He glanced at Iolaus and became alarmed to see him looking stunned and startled. “What’s wrong?”

“It could be the concussion,” the hunter said slowly. “But I swear the eagle just spoke to me. I heard it, inside my head.”

“What did it say?”

“It apologized,” Iolaus told him, stifling a giggle at the absurdity of it all. “For carrying me off. It didn’t want to, but something was making it act against it’s will.”

“It’s my father’s messenger bird,” Hercules mused. “I assumed that meant it delivered scrolls, but I guess it has a more direct means of communication.”

Any doubt the demigod may have had concerning his partner’s lucidity was instantly erased as he heard the bird speaking to him. The voice was deep and melodious and clear in his mind as the eagle thanked him for freeing it from Hera’s spell and offered it’s services in payment if there was ever anything it could do.

“There is something,” Hercules spoke up. “I know that it isn’t your place to get involved with the trials of mankind, but we could use your help.”

Iolaus glanced back and forth between his partner and the eagle as they carried on a silent communication. It was a little strange, but relatively mild compared to some of the bizarre things he’d born witness to over the long years at Hercules’ side. He watched as the demigod smiled and nodded his head slightly, as if in thanks.

“What did it say?” the hunter asked.

Hercules turned to his friend and grinned broadly.

“Hold on.”

“Not again,” Iolaus sighed as he found himself scooped up in the tight grasp of a taloned foot, for the second time in two days.

“My fellow Athenians,” Solon boomed grandly from his spot on the center of the platform. “Today we are making history. Not only are we striking a blow against tyranny in the name of democracy, but we are propelling our great city forward in civilization.”

Antenor sat back, a faint smile creasing his lips as he tuned out the speech and mentally wondered who was dumber. Solon, for actually thinking he could get away with enacting this farce of a law? The man he’d hired to kill the statesman, for actually thinking he would be left alive to talk? Or Hercules, for believing that good always triumphed. Hardly, especially if Hera was involved. His smile of satisfaction grew, and Antenor pulled his attentions back to the matter at hand. The time was almost upon them, and little did Solon know this address would be his last. Antenor’s man was edging closer to the platform, preparing himself to launch his fatal attack while Solon’s so called ‘guards’ pretended not to notice. And then once Solon was dead, they would fall upon the hapless thug and send him following after the lawgiver to Hades. It was almost too perfect.

A shadow suddenly fell over the hillside, and Antenor looked up in annoyance, for a passing rain cloud could potentially dampen all his plans. But what he saw made him quickly realize that a much more serious storm was about to hit. With a loud cry, the white eagle circled over the Assembly twice, then hovered close to the platform to deposit it’s passengers. Iolaus had been through the drill once before and was prepared, so when the strong talons released him, he hit the ground rolling and bounded gracefully to his feet. Hercules, on the other hand, hadn’t been expecting the sudden drop and landed heavily on his back on the platform. While he picked himself up, the eagle settled itself on the ground a few feet away, casting a stern eye over the crowd. Curiosity seemed to get the better of the initial fear of the people in attendance, and since the giant bird didn’t seem to be posing a threat, they halted their retreat and stayed to see what drama would unfold.

“What is the meaning of this?” Solon demanded, like a true politician. Unflappable, and annoyed that his moment had been ruined.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Hercules told him, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “But I’m afraid it was necessary in order to save your life.”

“That’s preposterous,” the lawgiver scoffed.

“It’s true, Solon,” Laocon called out, rising from his seat in the Assembly and approaching the platform, letting his allegiances finally be known. “This is Hercules, and his friend, Iolaus. They’re trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” Solon demanded, his irritation growing as he realized some sort of treachery was afoot, and he had been none the wiser.

“From a murderer,” Hercules announced coldly, staring daggers at Antenor.

“That’s ridiculous,” the landowner protested nervously as his neighbors began shooting him glances of fascination and suspicion. “It’s true that I’m not a fan of this law, but I would never resort to murder.”

“A killer and a liar,” Iolaus accused, moving forward to the edge of the platform so that he could look down at the man. “You murdered one of your own hetaerae yesterday, remember? You and your goons ambushed us, and you swore you’d let her go if I surrendered. Then once you had me tied up, you took out your knife and slit her throat. Is it coming back to you now?”

“She betrayed me,” Antenor screamed as he leapt to his feet. He glared wildly at those around him. “Everyone betrayed me!”

The landowner started to push his way through the Assembly, but the white eagle did not let him get far. It leapt over the platform and landed in front of him, bending down to fix a dark eyed stare on him as the crowds all moved back. Antenor didn’t move, but stood visibly quaking as the giant bird engaged him in silent communication. Finally, it released him from it’s penetrating gaze and stood up, sending it’s telepathy over the entire Assembly.

“This man is a killer, and you must punish him as such. Zeus’ will be done.”

For a moment, everyone stood frozen, in awe over what had happened. But Solon finally came to his senses and nodded to his guards. Obediently, they moved forward, for no one dared to defy the king of the gods. Antenor fell to his knees, sobbing piteously as they came for him. But the guards hauled him to his feet and dragged him off with no ceremony or sympathy. The eagle turned to Hercules, acknowledging his ‘thank you’ with a slight nod before rising to the sky with one massive wing beat. It glided in a circle once over the hillside, and then the majestic creature soared out of sight.

“I still don’t fully understand what went on here,” Solon declared, shaking his head slightly. “But it’s obvious I owe you a debt, Hercules.”

“Then you can repay me by passing that anti-slavery law,” the demigod told him with a grin, motioning to the front of the platform.

Solon nodded and resumed his place as he began to address the crowd, picking up where he had left off. And while the Assembly agreed that history was being made and Athens was seeing the dawning of a new era, they couldn’t help but feel that the mere passing of a law, regardless of it’s scope or importance, was rather anti-climactic compared to what had just transpired on the Pynx that day.

“So, what’s going to happen to Antenor?”

“Well, we debated that for quite awhile,” Laocon told the demigod as they strolled through the marketplace. “And, as much as we all would have loved to see him rotting away in a jail cell, we decided to send him to Eleusis.”

“To be used as slave labor for the quarry,” Hercules mused thoughtfully. “That seems fitting.”

“And since he has no living heirs, we divided his estate up among his ex-slaves.”

“I’ll bet he loved that,” Hercules chuckled.

“Oh, I think losing his land is the least of Antenor’s concerns these days.” Laocon sobered, looking up at the demigod. “You know, Solon was right yesterday. He, and in fact all of Athens, owes you a debt.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Hercules protested. “Just promise me that you’ll keep working to make this city a place where all men are free and equal.”

“You have my word,” Laocon vowed. “And I promise to keep it, just as you kept yours to me.” The merchant smiled slightly. “Although I’ll never understand how you managed it. Rescuing your friend, and still making it back in time to save Solon. You truly are the champion of mankind.”

“I prefer to think of it as good winning out over evil,” the demigod grinned. “Take care of yourself, Laocon.”

“Good luck, Hercules,” the merchant said, shaking his hand warmly. “And come back soon. You are always welcome here.”

Hercules said his farewell to the man who had become his friend and went off in search of his partner, finding him browsing and flirting his way through the stalls of the agora.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure,” the hunter replied. “I was just picking up a few supplies for the road.”

“Mmm hmmm.” The demigod arched a sardonic eyebrow, reaching out and grabbing the length of ribbon that was protruding from his friend’s belt pouch. “I can see how we’d never get by without this.”

“It’s for my mother, thank you very much,” Iolaus told him defiantly, snatching the ribbon from him and stuffing it back into his pouch.

“All right,” Hercules relented, his blue eyes twinkling. “But if you’re through with your shopping, we really should hit the road.”

The hunter fell into step beside his friend, holding out the small parcel of figs he had bought.

“You know,” he commented as the demigod helped himself to a handful of the fruit. “I used to worry that we’d start slowing down as we got older. But instead, we’ve gotten better.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, in the past five days we’ve stuck it to both Ares and Hera, freed Zeus’ eagle, stopped a war, saved democracy, and prevented an assassination. That used to take us at least a week.”

“They say that ‘practice makes perfect’,” Hercules grinned.

“In that case, why don’t the gods ever get any better?”

“Because despite eons of existence, they never learn from experience,” the demigod reasoned.

“And just what did we learn from this experience?” the hunter wondered.

“I’ve learned that we need more practice,” Hercules said slowly as a shrill scream and a cry for help echoed from the road ahead.

“So much for ‘all work and no play...’,” the hunter sighed. He glanced longingly at the figs in his hand for a moment before tossing them over his shoulder as he sprinted after his friend to thwart the ongoing bandit attack. And then the two heroes made sure that evil did learn it’s lesson that day. Crime never pays, especially when the brave son of Zeus and his noble partner are in town.

Finis

Disclaimer: No big, white, telepathic birds were harmed during the writing of this story. And Zeus made sure Hera was very, very sorry for messing with his pet by ordering her to change the papyrus in the eagle’s cage on Olympus for the next ten years.

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