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.
Iolaus and Hercules quickly headed out of Scyros. The former lucky to have his head, the latter lucky to have his best friend. Their encounter with the King of Thieves had finally concluded.
As they walked on the narrow path that lead away from Scyros, Hercules bumped into a cloaked man wearing a tattered gray, red and blue cape.
“Good afternoon,” the old man rasped as he brushed past the demigod.
The two friends nodded cordially to the stranger, but something about the gravelly greeting, or the limp, or the familiar gray cape made Hercules do a double take. He stopped and regarded the old man as he limped past the hero and his sidekick.
“Someone you know?” Iolaus asked as he too regarded the old man.
“Could be,” Hercules answered.
“Want to go after him to find out for sure?”
“Nope,” Hercules answered.
He had suspected that the caped figure was Autolycus, cleverly masqueraded. He had reasonedthis only because the brash thief had used the same ploy once before: when he was trying to escape from the demigod after leaving his best friend to take the fall.
Hercules had promised to bring Autolycus to justice but as events of the day unfolded, he didn’t feel comfortable with the kind of justice the kingdom of Scyros dished out. Unfortunately the demigod also had to be true to himself. He’d rather not know who wore the tattered cape. If he had pursued the old man just to find out it was Autolycus, then he would have to turn the thief in again.
The words of the thief echoed back to Hercules, “If your friend lives, then I die.”
Autolycus was a thief, that much was for sure, and to spite the fact that he left Iolaus to pay for his crime, Hercules blamed the kingdom of Scyros for not protecting the rights of the innocent. It was Scyros that victimized Iolaus, not Autolycus. Of course, he would never convince Iolaus of that.
“Hey, what’s this?” Iolaus said as he picked up a small stone from the path. The stone was polished and oval. It was milky white and sparkled with flecks of gold, green, pink and peach. “I think that man you bumped into must have dropped it.”
Iolaus turned around and headed toward the path the old man had taken. “Maybe we should return it,” he offered.
“Iolaus,” Hercules prefaced verbally holding off his friend, “maybe we shouldn’t.” Then he went on to explain, “I’m sure Scyros has a lost and found someplace around here. We’ll return it there.”
“But he couldn’t have gone far. Why don’t you want to find him?”
“We’re not even sure the old man was the owner of the stone,” Hercules offered. Although he didn’t verbalize it, Hercules was thinking, “And I’m sure he wasn’t.”
Out loud he concluded, “You wouldn’t want to give it to the wrong person, do you? After all, you know what kind of men they breed in Scyros.”
“Autolycus,” Iolaus muttered with enmity.
After his verbal greeting, Autolycus quickly darted around the bend. The thief was impetuous and couldn’t help greeting the sanctimonious demigod and his equally pious little friend. Besides, it was the neighborly thing to do. He thought he’d had the demigod hoodwinked but was surprised when the familiar voice of Hercules continued to follow him. Trapped on an open road, the thief could either run, or hide. He opted for hiding.
Autolycus had no where to go but to escape into a mishmash of thorny bushes. He surveyed his predicament deciding what to do when he was pushed into the brambles from behind.
“I love him but what a wuss,” the gravelly voice said from behind.
Old and ornery the woman had a soft spot for the thief, but decided to torment Autolycus a bit. She saw the two men approaching and sprang into action “Help, I’ve been robbed.”
“Uh oh,” Hercules muttered certain that the culprit was the irascible thief.
“You don’t think it’s Autolycus again, do you?” Iolaus asked as he ran toward the old woman.
“No. No. It can’t be,” Hercules began, “certainly he’s not stupid enough to hang around Scyros after stealing from the royal vault.
Iolaus scoffed at the statement, “I wouldn’t put anything past that degenerate. I bet he‘d steal from his own grandmother if the opportunity arose.”
As the two heroes rounded the corner, the victim of the robbery quickly grabbed Iolaus’ hand in entreaty.
“You said you’ve been robbed?” Iolaus asked.
Hercules had to know, “It wasn’t a man wearing a worn gray, red and blue cape, was it?”
The old woman could see Autolycus peering out of the thorny bushes beseeching her not to blow his prickly, albeit secure cover.
“You mean Autolycus?” the old woman asked. It was at that moment that Hercules realized this was the same old woman who thwarted him in his search of the thief at the bridge.
“Yep, he’s the one,” Hercules answered blanching. He knew what Iolaus’ reaction would be.
Iolaus turned to Hercules finally understanding the demigod’s reticence for following the owner of the lost gem.
“You knew it was Autolycus and you didn’t do anything?” Iolaus questioned, knowing that Hercules could find the good in even the most despicable of criminals, and knew he felt the thief deserved a second chance at redemption. At the moment, Iolaus was not so forgiving. He turned back to the old woman. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll get Autolycus and I’ll get what was stolen from you.”
He hesitated with uncertainty, “What was stolen from you?”
“My money pouch. Matches my hat, but Autolycus didn’t steal it.”
“Then who stole it?” Iolaus asked.
“Do I look like the oracle at Delphi? Autolycus ran after him.”
“Probably so he could steal it back from the thief,” Iolaus sighed.
“Come on, Iolaus. You don’t know that.” Hercules defended.
“I don’t have to, Herc. Are you telling me this is not the same thief who stole the royal vault, stole the judges money pouches and practically stole my life?”
The old woman’s anger was piqued and she rose on her toes and shoved her bony finger into Iolaus’ chest. “Hey, he’s the King of Thieves and you better show him some respect.”
“He’s a thief,” Iolaus answered the challenge.
“Boy, you must really like Autolycus.” Hercules responded to the old woman.
The old woman cackled. “The King of Thieves has really cleaned up this town. Full of thieves it was, until Autolycus drove all the competition away. He’s a hero to the citizens of Scyros. Officials don’t like him much,” she said with obvious distaste for the local authorities.
“He drove the competition away?” Hercules asked.
“That I can understand,” Iolaus answered, “I can’t get far enough away from him.”
“See the orphanage over there?” The old woman said as she pointed to a small building on the top of a rise. “Easy pickings for other thieves. Autolycus paid to have burglar bars installed.”
“He did?” Hercules questioned incredulous. Iolaus was more than skeptical.
“Of course he’d never admit to it. The dear is so modest,” she rasped.
“With a name like the King of Thieves? Yeah, right,” the blonde sputtered.
“He’s really easy to get along with once you people learn to worship him,” the old woman announced.
Hercules laughed, but after spending some involuntary time with the King of Thieves, he could understand how the citizens of Scyros could be taken in by the thief’s natural charm. What other thief would take the time to shake the citizens’ hands or offer a greeting to the very man that was pursuing him.
“Iolaus,” Hercules gently warned, “she seem to be genuinely fond of Autolycus. He must have some redeeming qualities. Sometimes all it takes is one person to believe in you….” Hercules said with optimism.
“Fine,” Iolaus relented. “You know, I’ve been dunked, pressed and almost pigged out AS dinner tonight. I’m hungry and I’m tired, so I’m not going to argue with the two of you. I can see you’ve both been bamboozled by Autolycus. Fine. Autolycus is the King of Thieves, a prince among men. You’ve heard it. Now, can we just go, Herc.”
“You’re sure?” Hercules asked seeing the doubt on his best friend’s face.
“I said let’s go,” he beckoned with a nod of his head, “before I change my mind.”
Iolaus turned and continued on his journey out of town alone.
“Uh, bye.” Hercules said to the old woman as he shrugged his shoulders and jogged sideways to catch up to Iolaus.
Autolycus waited in the bushes beyond the group until he was sure the demigod and his friend had indeed left.
As he extricated himself from the brambles, he held a money bag in his hands. It matched the woman’s hat.
“Sheesh, that was close. You know you almost blew it for me. Yelling ‘Help. Thief,’ you know. ”
“Sorry, didn’t know your friends were coming around the bend.” she smiled innocently. “Besides, I tried to make it up to you, son. Liked what I said about the orphanage?”
“Yeah. Sure. Thanks Grams. Whatever works.” Autolycus answered contritely, “So, how much do I owe you for running interference again this time? And before you say it, I’m sorry I didn’t stop and say hello by the river.”
“Well, I know you were busy. Three dinars. I found a new hat at the market,” the old woman answered as she held out the greedy palm of her right hand as she preened her old hat with her other.
“Alright. Alright. Can’t believe I have to pay for a little loyalty,” he grumbled as he dug into his money bag and produced three coins. “Dinner at your place tomorrow night?” the thief asked.
“Sunset, and don’t be late,” the old woman rasped.
Autolycus slipped the old woman a kiss on her cheek.
“You’re the best.”
“Yeah, and don’t you forget it either.”
Autolycus smiled. “Sunset,” he confirmed as he escaped into the bushes once again.
