This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by MCA, Universal Studios, Renaissance Pictures or any other entity involved with the making of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys or Xena: Warrior Princess.
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” Autolycus said as he sized up the chimney atop the modest estate. The house belonged to a local jewel collector; a jewel collector that had many of the same jewels he had acquired a year earlier and then was forced to return due to Hercules and Iolaus’ holiday meddling.
He wanted them back, and found the perfect opportunity to fulfill his goal. But he was sent to the collector’s house on another errand, not the one he was now contemplating.
Just one day earlier, the thief was in the cell next to the unfortunate collector. Actually, he reflected, the idea that landed him in the filthy cell in the first place was probably the stupidest thing he had ever done. Autolycus made a mental note to himself, ‘never try to steal from a nudist colony. The humiliation just isn’t worth it, not to mention the cavity searches’.
He sat on a pallet in his cell feeling miserable as he listened to the cellmates caged next to him.
The jewel collector had been convicted of tax evasion and was explaining his point of view to his newly arrived cellmate.
Autolycus strained his ears to hear.
“They call it a luxury tax. Well, I refused to pay the exorbitant tax on the Cabochon Ruby of Attica, so they threw me in jail.”
“You own the Cabochon Ruby of Attica?” the cellmate asked.
“As well as the Garnet of Gelos and the Morean Opal.”
The collector looked over at Autolycus sitting on his pallet and asked, “How do you feel about a luxury tax on jewels.”
The thief was lost in avaricious thoughts and was startled by the suddenness of the question. “Oh, I think it’s best never to tax your jewels, unless of course it’s all in fun,” came Autolycus’ response.
The collector studied the thief. He’d seen many come and go with the same lascivious and lust filled look on their face. Not to mention that outfit. “You’ve been to the nudist colony, haven’t you?”
Autolycus nodded in assent.
“Did they get you for loitering or indecent exposure?”
“Both,” the embarrassed thief answered.
Autolycus was never charged with stealing the gilded bust of Aphrodite, since he never got the opportunity to steal it. Shortly after his arrival in the secured community, one of the colonists recognized that he didn’t belong, and he was soon nabbed for loitering and indecent exposure. Autolycus was incensed. Indecent- never; insufferable-maybe, insensitive- sure, but with his roguish good looks, he could never be charged with indecency. The loitering, however, was another matter.
The jewel collector’s attention was diverted away from the thief, whom he deemed a pervert for visiting the provocative getaway in the first place. He pulled out a small crystal from a pocket and handed it to his cellmate. “Here’s an etching of my daughter, Lyla, when she was two. Of course she doesn’t look like this now. She’s getting to be such a big girl.”
“How long have you been in here?” his cellmate asked worriedly.
“Three years,” came his dejected reply.
“Aren’t you worried about keeping all those gems in your home with your wife and kid? What about thieves?” The collector’s cellmate asked.
He laughed, “I have Hephaestian locks on all my doors and windows. Even the King of Thieves couldn’t steal from me.”
“You don’t say?” Autolycus said to himself. Such a challenge could not go unanswered.
The heavy wooden door opened with a loud moan as a burly guard walked in. He shook his keys as he sauntered by the first cell and then stopped at the cage that held Autolycus.
“Okay, buddy. You’re free to go. The colonists want to believe your lame story, and we couldn’t find anything on you.”
Autolycus stood up and brushed off his borrowed tunic. “Or in me,” he answered in quiet distain. The rough fabric of the red tunic and black burlap pants was scratchy and it itched, but the thief was caught au natural, so he had no other choice but to wear it if he wanted to maintain what was left of his dignity.
He scratched himself indiscriminately. His favorite tunic with the black and green checkerboard shoulders was lying on the outskirts of the nudist colony for any filthy derelict to pick up.
“I still think you’re guilty of something,” the guard added.
“Poor judgment for stopping here, I’d say,” came Autolycus’ smart retort.
The clanking of the keys bumping up against each other was music to the thief’s ears as the key turned in the lock. The guard opened the door and Autolycus stepped out of the cell.
“Good news, Lapidarius,” the guard said as he turned to the collector, “Your parole has been granted. You should be out by tomorrow and home by Solstice.”
The collector seemed surprised. He had fully expected to spend the rest of his life in the prison cell. The sudden promise of him leaving his home away from home brought on a renewed vigor. He began rifling through his prison uniform searching for something.
“Well,” Autolycus said as he began walking, almost tiptoeing out of the room. The careful footsteps were a force of habit since the thief rarely left a jail cell legitimately. He was usually breaking out. That was, when the jackals of authority could even catch him. “I wish I could say it’s been fun.”
Lapidarius reached out from his cell and grabbed the thief as he passed by. He shoved a piece of paper in Autolycus’ hand and closed the thief’s fingers around it.
“Could you deliver this message to my wife?” he begged, “I live on the outskirts of Attica, in the white mortar house, next to the old oak tree, at the end of the main road. Please?” he begged again.
“Hey! Do I look like a messenger service? I’ve got places to go and things to ste…” He let his thoughts trail off when the guard wrapped his cold, massive hand around Autolycus’ neck.
“Aw, come one. It’s Solstice. Agree to deliver the message for the prisoner. If you don’t, you may suffer from an unfortunate accident. And what a shame too, so close to your release,” the guard purred menacingly. The guard liked Lapidarius and wanted to see his message delivered.
“Well, since you put it so nicely,” Autolycus squeaked, as the guard’s hand tightened around his neck. As soon as the thief acquiesced, the guard released his hand.
“That’s better,” the guard nodded.
Autolycus pulled on his borrowed tunic, placed the note in a pocket and walked quickly out of the jail.
Outside, Autolycus opened the note and read the message inside. He had hoped it would give him some clue to where the dilettante had hid his prized collection. Instead, it contained a peculiar gardening tip. It read: Tie a golden ribbon around the old oak tree. It’s been three long years. Do you still want me?
“Maybe it’s in code?” Autolycus thought as he fumbled the piece of paper in his fingers.
He had decided he would go to Lapidarius’ house, but he wasn’t planning on delivering the cryptic note.
Through the darkness of night, Autolycus could see that the home had seen better days. Blocks of mortar spotted the yard and the weeds were grown up and taking over the once well-manicured lawn. The building itself looked like it was ready to crumble, but the heavy wooden door and the window shutters were still tightly secured with the much-touted Hephaestian locks.
Even if Autolycus had the inclination to pick the Hephaestian locks, his lock picks were in his tunic and his tunic was all but gone now. He knew he had to find an alternative method for gaining entrance to the house and the chimney along the roofline seemed the most expeditious way in.
He looked for a way up and caught a glimpse of a rickety trellis along the front of the house. A dead thorny bush climbed its way up the lattice, and so did Autolycus.
The thorns dug into the thief’s hands as he slowly made his way up the lattice. The rickety frame buckled several times under his weight, causing him to grip the edges and the thorns even tighter to keep from falling until he could gain his footing again.
“I think it would have been easier robbing Fort Knoxious.” Autolycus said as he finally pulled himself up and onto the rooftop. He looked down at the precarious path he had chosen to take.
The chimney was a sizeable stone structure, it’s flue large enough to accommodate the thief. Eager to gain his prize, Autolycus took little time to tie a heavy rope around the chimney and let the end fall into the cavernous pipe below.
Autolycus hauled himself up onto the top of the chimney and began to shimmy himself into the flue. The fit was tight. As he descended, black soot flecked off of the sides of the pipe and swirled around him. The smell of creosote and ashes burned his nose and eyes as he made his way to the floor beneath him. Two feet from the ground, Autolycus hopped off of the rope and onto the ash covered floor of the fireplace.
Hot embers from a recent fire stung through his borrowed boots. Autolycus did a quick dance around the embers. “Ooo, ooo, ow, ow, ow,” he yelled as delicately as he could.
Turning around in the cramped space, Autolycus allowed his derriere to peak through the fireplace opening first as he uncoiled himself from the soot filled pipe and into the main room of the home.
He turned around and found a set of blue eyes staring up at him.
“I know you,” the little girl said as she pointed to the thief. She had a thumb in her mouth, and held a doll in the other hand. She pointed to Autolycus.
“Uh…no you don’t kid. I’m just your local chimney inspector and…good news, it passed, so I’ll just be going.” He pointed both index fingers toward the front door.
“I know you.” the blond, pigtailed girl with a runny nose announced again. “Daddy talks about you all the time, but Mommy says you don’t exist.”
“Ho. Ho. Ho. Why, of course I exist,” Autolycus said as he patted his chest in pride. A large plume of soot escaped into the air. “In fact, I‘m practically legendary.”
“Solstice Nick!” the young girl smiled and then rushed up and tenderly hugged the thief’s leg.
“Where?” Autolycus said looking around in confusion.
“You, silly.” she answered as her runny nose was getting all over his borrowed pants. “You’re Solstice Nick.”
He looked down at the girl with repugnance.
Autolycus tried to remember the tale of the ancient do-gooder but he hadn’t heard the story since childhood, and what he did remember, he had nightmares about. Solstice Nick was a drunken bum; dressed in red, with twinkling eyes, merry dimples, rosy cheeks, and a nose like a cherry. He had a small mouth that was drawn up like a bow, and his beard was all stubbly like one on skid row. He also remembered him keeping company with little people and ungulates.
On Solstice Eve, the do-gooder bum would show up the middle of the night while good little boys and girls were sleeping and bring them tricks and treats, or something like that. He never paid much attention to the story since Autolycus was never visited by Solstice Nick.
He suddenly wondered why the kid would confuse him with the legendary figure. He rubbed his chin in thought. Okay, he was wearing red, he did arrive in the middle of the night, and it had been awhile since his last shave.
Then the thief lit upon an idea that would hopefully get the child off his leg and back into bed. “That’s right, Lyla. I am.” Autolycus said making sure to use the child’s given name in order to perpetuate the fraud.
“But I can’t do my job if little girls aren’t asleep. So go to sleep little girl.”
Still she hung onto his leg, swaying happily from side to side. “I knew you’d come,” she answered.
“Yeah, sure kid.” Autolycus mumbled, distracted as he surveyed the meager surroundings. It was certainly not a room filled with the opulence you would expect from a jewel collector. “You know, I’ve heard of Spartan living…but this is ridiculous.”
The only thing populating the living space save Autolycus and the small girl were a rocking chair, an upholstered bench and a small table. Dark patterns on the floor had suggested the room was once filled with furniture and curios, but they were gone now.
Even in the meager surrounding, Autolycus could see that the family took care to make the room as festive as possible for the winter holiday. The mantle was decorated in boughs of holly, evergreens and a multitude of candles and rich colored ribbon.
In a corner next to the hearth, stood a fir tree approximately six feet tall. It was decorated with about a dozen hand-made ornaments and a bright gold ribbon. The ornaments hung low on the branches, no taller than the little girl’s reach. It was clear Lyla had hung them there herself.
The young girl extricated herself from the thief’s leg and ran toward the small table. She pulled a plate with several small flat cakes and a glass of milk off the table and brought it over to Autolycus, sloshing most of the milk out and onto her nightgown.
“I made some milk and cookies for you,” she said.
“Thanks. I think,“ Autolycus answered. He was famished and took the plate of food. Wearily, he sat down in the rocking chair as he took a bite of the sugary cookie.
“I didn’t think it was possible,” Autolycus said with a mouth full of food, “but you know, I’m as hungry as that blond runt and resident greedy-gut, Iolaus.”
“Is that one of your gnomes or one of your eight stag deer?” Lyla asked innocently and then quickly crawled into the thief’s lap before his full mouth could object.
He swallowed what was left of his snack. “Whoa, kid. Off my lap. I have enough trouble with the law as it is.”
“But all the little girls and boys get to sit on your lap and tell you what they want for Solstice,” she pouted.
Lyla placed her head upon the thief’s chest and Autolycus tentatively wrapped his arm around her. He rolled his eyes up and asked, “Okay, what do you want for Solstice?”
Lyla sat in his lap as she slowly contemplated her wish. “I want my Mommy to quit crying all the time.”
“Oh?” he asked curiously, “Why does your Mommy cry?”
“I think she misses Daddy. Every month men come into the house and take things, and it makes my Mommy cry. They call my Daddy a jailbird.”
“Where exactly is your Mommy anyway?” Autolycus asked, his eyes quickly shifting from one corner of the room to the other and then finally resting on the door into the interior of the home.
“I don’t know exactly. She’s working.”
Autolycus was born without a father, and his mother had died when he was eight. His sixteen-year-old brother ended up raising him. Even his older brother knew it was not a good idea to leave a kid alone in the house. One broken wood beam, two broken windows and the feathers from several bed pillows attested to that.
Left alone one day, the would-be thief wondered what it would be like to fly. Climbing up the uneven stone walls, he attached a rope to a rafter and began swinging in a wide arc, propelling himself from one wall to the next. In the process, he broke two windows and the beam in the ceiling. The pillows were taken apart, and the feathers placed on the floor in case he fell. When his brother found the mess, he was almost tarred and feathered with those very same plumes.
“She left you alone?” Autolycus asked.
“The door’s locked,” Lyla, said matter-of-fact.
“What about a fire, or what if you get sick. What if a stranger comes in and tries to rob you?”
Then he said under his breath just low enough for the young girl not to hear, “Jerkules can’t be every where you know.”
Lyla exaggeratingly shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t have an answer for that. “Most of the time I’m sleeping.” she said as she yawned and stretched her arms. “But tonight, I wanted to see you.”
Autolycus noticed how sleepy the little girl was. “Okay, that does it kiddo. You’re going to bed.” Autolycus scooped up the kid in his arm and walked toward the interior of the home. “Where’s your room?” he asked.
Lyla sleepily pointed to the first room on the right. Autolycus opened it up.
It was most definitely a little girl’s room, all pink and fluffy. Dolls and toys of varying sizes were lined up on her bed. The room did not have the Spartan look of the rest of the house, and Autolycus decided that the mother was trying to preserve the child’s environment from the Tax Collectors as much as possible.
He was sure that if he took a peak into the mother’s room, it would house only the essentials for a good nights sleep, a bed.
Autolycus grabbed the pink dyed sheepskin coverlet and pulled it back. The dolls and stuffed toys tumbled off the bed like jewels from a safe. He placing Lyla carefully into bed and then sat on the edge, digging a Cerberus-like toy from underneath his posterior. Throwing it to the side, he absently tucked Lyla in before he had realized he had done so.
Lyla smiled up at him and Autolycus smiled back. “So, Lyla. What do you want for Solstice? You never really answered me.”
She was quicker to answer this time. “I want my Daddy to tuck me into bed every night, just like you did.”
“I guess it’s a good thing she didn’t ask for a pony,” Autolycus thought as he fingered the letter in his pocket, “ this is doable,” and what was best, Autolycus didn’t have to lift a finger.
“Okay. What if I told you your Daddy will be home by tomorrow?”
Lyla got up from the bed and hugged the thief tight. “Thank you, Solstice Nick. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Autolycus complained, uncomfortable with the sappiness both on his part and the young girl’s. “What’s with me and Solstice? Last year I gave away toys and this year I’m granting Solstice wishes,” he thought. “Now get to sleep so Aut…Solstice Nick can work his magic.”
The girl hunkered down in bed and turned her back to Autolycus. He got up and watched her silently for a moment before retreating from her bedroom.
Looking around the sparse living room once more, Autolycus grabbed the golden ribbon from the fir tree. Fingering the letter, he pulled it out of his pocket and propped it up on the mantle between the evergreen boughs. Escaping through the front door with the gold ribbon, he made sure to stop by the old oak tree before he left.
THE END
