Note: With apologies to Keats' 'Ode on a Grecian Urn'…
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
"Hercules," Iolaus prompted with a curious glint in his eye, "I'm still not all that clear about why we're going to Arcady."
"Iolaus, I keep telling you, you don't need to come to Arcady with me," Hercules sighed. "You could go fishing, or go visit your Grandmother. You haven't seen her in a while."
It wasn't working, the demigod sighed again. He could see the light of speculation gleaming in his best friend's eyes as Iolaus tried to figure out what, or who, was in Arcady. Hercules lifted his eyes to gaze around the countryside they were passing through. It was a beautiful land, especially now in the spring when the leaves on the trees were lush and new, with flowers of all shapes and colours growing wild in the fields, and blossoms lending their sweet scent to the air. The skies vaulted over the rolling verdant hills were brilliantly blue, and clear; the breeze balmy. Birds twittered and sang alluring melodies to their mates as they dipped in the air or perched on the branches of the grove of trees that lined the dusty path. There was a sense of timelessness on days like this, Hercules thought, wishing sometimes that these moments of eternal beauty could last forever, and not shift to the hot dryness of summer, or the damp bleakness of winter's cold.
Sighing yet again as they ambled along, he shifted his gaze back to his partner. He knew Iolaus was musing about that note the messenger had brought two nights ago, the note Hercules hadn't shared with him. From the way Iolaus kept looking at him sideways, with a knowing grin dancing around his lips, Hercules also knew Iolaus was imagining that there was a woman in Arcady that the demigod wasn't talking about. Snorting a little to himself, shaking his head, Hercules reflected that Iolaus was right, though he was also wrong. There were two women actually…
"It's not what you're thinking," the Son of Zeus muttered.
Grinning, his eyebrows raised in hopeful anticipation that his best friend might be finally willing to spill the goods, Iolaus turned to fully face his taller friend as he challenged playfully, "No? And how do you know what I'm thinking?"
"Because I know you, Iolaus," Hercules couldn't resist grinning back. "You think there's a woman involved. Someone I don't want to talk about. I can tell from the look on your face that you think I've got a secret romance in Arcady."
"So-you're telling me there's no woman involved," Iolaus pressed, knowing there was a story here. Hercules looked oddly uncomfortable, almost squirming when Iolaus had asked who had sent the note and what it was about. When Hercules was uncharacteristically secretive about why he'd suddenly decided he had to go to Arcady, even blushed when Iolaus had tried to wheedle information out of him, the endlessly curious warrior figured there had to be a story and was pretty sure, given Hercules' behaviours, that the mystery involved a woman.
Which would be fine, actually. Maybe better than fine. Herc didn't allow himself many relationships and Iolaus would be more genuinely happy for his friend than amused in a prurient way, to learn that Hercules might actually have found someone who could make him blush like a school boy. So, though Herc had tried to dissuade him, Iolaus had decided to tag along to see who this paragon was. The more Hercules had tried to distract him onto other pleasant pursuits, like going hunting or fishing for a few days, the more Iolaus was determined to stick like glue, to find out what was going on.
It had to have something to do with a woman! If the message had been about the usual madness and mayhem occasioned by a two-bit warlord or a threatening monster, Hercules would have told him straight-out, not squirmed and blushed. Nope, it had to be a woman.
Cutting a quick look at his partner, seeing that expression that was like a terrier with a bone, Hercules pushed his fingers through his hair, scratched at his cheek, swallowed, and shrugged as he realized that Iolaus just wasn't going to give up and he was going to have to share information he'd carefully never revealed; information that Iolaus would no doubt use to tease him mercilessly for the rest of his days. The demigod blushed again as he recalled those memories, and how Iolaus would react once he heard the story. Well, stories, plural, actually.
"Come on," Iolaus cajoled. "You know you're going to tell me."
Hercules' lips parted, as if he was about to do just that. But then they closed again, tight, and he looked away toward the horizon. Shaking his head, he turned his face to Iolaus with a quizzical expression as if he didn't quite know how to begin. "You'll laugh at me," he charged. "You'll think it's hilarious."
"Ah, Herc, would I do that?" Iolaus pouted comically, assuming a wounded expression.
"Yes, you would," Hercules replied dryly, a grin now playing around his own lips. "And you'll never let it go. You'll torment me for the rest of my days…"
"Hey, I'm your best friend," Iolaus protested his innocent and kind intentions toward his partner, continuing the good-natured banter. "How can you think that I'd be less than supportive and understanding? C'mon, Herc-tell me about her. What's she like?"
As the vision of the woman Hercules had most hoped Iolaus would never have the occasion to meet rose in his memory, he burst out laughing. Shaking his head yet again, the demigod sputtered, "You know, I don't think I could do her justice. I guess you'll just have to meet her and form your own impressions."
"I knew it!" Iolaus crowed. "I knew it was a woman!"
"Two of them, actually," Hercules mumbled. "One of them is married."
"Two?" Iolaus' voice rose in surprise. "Married?" he exclaimed in disbelief, as his tone rose another octave.
The astonishment on his friend's face was comical to behold and Hercules couldn't help but break up. It was only too clear what Iolaus was thinking, and having trouble believing, though he was trying hard to convince himself his romantic scenario was still the reason Hercules hadn't been forthcoming with details. It was too funny. Once Iolaus met the woman, women, in question-Hercules laughed even louder. Gasping, wiping tears from his eyes, he decided he might as well enjoy this while he could.
Iolaus was feeling definitely confused by Hercules' inexplicable behaviour. Frowning, he cocked his head to one side as he studied the demigod, hands on his hips, having had to stop and wait for Hercules to compose himself before they could continue ambling to Arcady. When Hercules looked up and saw the intent expression on Iolaus' face, he burst into renewed gales of laughter. This was distinctly odd. When it appeared that his taller friend was beginning to get himself back under some semblance of control, Iolaus held up a hand. "Okay," he said, still trying to put the story together, "there're two women in Arcady that you didn't want me to know about, one of whom has sent you a note asking you to come…am I right so far?"
"Uh huh," Hercules sniffed, wiping his eyes, still snickering.
For the life of him, Iolaus couldn't picture Hercules with two women at the same time…and he shook his head violently to clear it of that image, the image not having been what he'd meant, even in his own mind. He'd meant he couldn't imagine Hercules going out with, romancing, two women at the same time. And certainly not one who was married. Hmmm. He must be missing something.
"Is one of them in some kind of trouble?" he asked.
"Uh huh," the demigod nodded. "Both of them."
"Are they relatives?" Iolaus asked. "I mean, are they related to one another, or is either of them related to you?" Maybe this was some kind of family problem, though Alcmene didn't have any relations in Arcady so far as Iolaus knew. And Hercules wouldn't be so coy about the relatives on his father's side. Or find them so amusing, for that matter.
"Nope," Hercules replied, still stifling snickers that wouldn't seem to quit.
Iolaus shook his head as he gnawed on his lip. Two women. Hercules hiding something. Something that made him blush. Something he didn't want his best friend in the whole world to know about. Something that made him laugh almost hysterically when he thought about it. Some kind of trouble he hadn't wanted to have Iolaus' help in resolving. Because of the woman…women…involved. One of whom was married. Hmmm. Nope. It didn't make any kind of sense that Iolaus could see.
Chuckling, Hercules looped an arm around the shoulders of his very puzzled friend as he turned Iolaus back in the direction of Arcady. "You'll just have to wait and see," he said cryptically. "Unless you'd rather go fishing?"
"I've been fishing," Iolaus muttered, sounding aggrieved. "I just haven't caught anything."
Hercules laughed again at the image that rose in his mind of his friend meeting the women involved…the image of Iolaus as the big fish being well and truly caught on a line being drawn ever tighter, pulling him closer while he struggled to escape. "Believe me, before this is over, I'm pretty sure that you'll wish you'd gone fishing," he spluttered.
* * *
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal-yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Arcady, the busy city at the centre of the province of Arcadia, was bustling with travelers, merchants, farmers with wagons full of produce for the markets, shoppers, mostly women, with baskets looped over their arms, one with a basket of eggs, another with greens and grapes, others with flowers, and still more with packages wrapped in bits of felt or cotton, all of them hurrying about their business. Men, craftsmen, soldiers, beggars and no doubt some thieves, strode or ambled or dawdled along the busy thoroughfare. Children squealed and shrieked in play, dashing around in unpredictable patterns of movement, getting underfoot, oblivious to the disapproving glares or indulgent smiles of the adults around them.
Hercules led the way, turning off the main road and heading down a still busier and narrower lane that curved around buildings and held stalls with all manner of goods on display. In a few minutes, Iolaus could hear the strains of music mingling with the raucous sounds of the crowd and traffic of wagons and carts, of horses and mules, and even the odd goat. Another minute more, and Hercules had drawn to a stop, his hands resting on his hips as he gazed at an impressive two story building that looked to have been freshly painted in soft blues and whites, accented with truly bizarre cornices in a startling purple and green design. The entrance was wide, a couple of steps up from the street and a tastefully gaudy sign in the same purple and green paint announced the establishment as the 'House of Dance and Design'.
Iolaus looked from the building to Hercules and back again. 'Dance and Design'? "Is that where we're going?" he asked, wondering why it should be such a mystery. He could hear the music more strongly now, and he could also hear an authoritative voice giving instruction. A woman's voice, he thought, though as he listened, he wasn't quite sure of that. Sounded like a harridan.
"Yep," Hercules replied, his tongue in his cheek.
"You wouldn't care to give me just a little more information to go on?" Iolaus prompted. "Uh, like what the problem might be? Or the names of these women? Or how you know them?"
"Nope," the demigod replied, though he didn't move forward either. He cast Iolaus a speculative look and grinned, though there was, what? Nervousness? Something unsettled, anyway, in the depths of his eyes.
"Well, whatever the problem is, it won't get solved out here," Iolaus observed. But Hercules looked like he'd suddenly grown roots and was solidly planted on the corner, unable to move himself a step further. "C'mon," his smaller friend encouraged, unwilling to contain his curiousity a moment more as he gripped the demigod's upper arm and tugged him toward the doorway. "I want to meet this woman, er, women."
"That's what you think," Hercules snickered, but he moved under Iolaus' urgings, and together they crossed the lane and mounted the steps to enter the wide-open portal, it's double doors having been unlocked for business and thrown open earlier in the day.
The sounds of their boots on the wooden boards of the floor echoed against the high ceilings of the almost cavernous single hall they entered. There was a stage at one end, with tables and chairs scattered around a central dance floor. A musician, with one of those odd combination music makers, was playing in the corner. Couples, apparently there for lessons, were being put through their paces by a woman of a certain age. Her rich platinum locks were piled on her head, escaping in tiny curls at the nape of her neck and over her wide brow, one long lock curling around her flushed cheek. She was dressed in rich silks and satins that held her generous curves in a firm embrace, and her arms were up as she swayed with the music and she lectured her students in a half-cajoling, half exasperated manner, "You have to feel it, my darlings. Feel the primal, earthy beat. Let it thrum through your bodies! Become one with it!"
The dancers were looking at her with expressions that varied from rapture to mystification.
The musician, whose head and body had been bobbing to the beat of the music he was providing, looked up, saw the newcomers and stopped in startled recognition.
"What?" the matron snapped, caught in mid-sway, not happy to have lost 'the beat'. Catching the direction of his glance toward the doors behind her, she whirled in sweeping, swishing drama-and then she was tripping toward them with the delicacy of a stampeding bull, crying out passionately, "Hercules!"
Iolaus rather expected her to come to a halt as she approached them, but no, she kept on coming. Beside him, resigned to the inevitability of the coming collision, Hercules widened his stance for balance and opened his arms.
"Oommphhh!" Hercules grunted softly as she flung herself into his arms, clinging like a limpet, her face pressed rapturously against his broad, well-muscled, bronzed chest. Awkwardly, he patted at her back, while he cast a quick glance at this partner to see how Iolaus was reacting so far, as he murmured soothingly, "I came as quickly as I could…"
"Oh, Hercules!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in agitation as she pulled away, paused, swept her eyes over the demigod, down and then back up again, with what Iolaus would only describe as a hungry look. His eyes wide, he swallowed hard as he thought, 'Gods, she even licked her lips!'
But then her features acquired a plaintive, hunted look as she wrung her hands or threw her arms out dramatically, as she carried on, with much heaving of her bosom, a tell-tail tear of despair in her eye, and a voice booming like an hysterical drill sergeant, "I don't know what we're going to DO! We've just gotten ourselves settled here, and Althea has opened up her design shop upstairs, and now the magistrate is saying we have no right to this property and he wants to THROW US OUT! ONTO THE STREETS!" she raged in umbrage. "THE BRUTE! I didn't know who else to call who I KNEW, I just KNEW, would be able to help us!"
Suddenly, before he could get a word in edgewise, her mood and demeanor changed again, so that now she was almost simpering as she drew a long fingernail delicately down along his arm, that hungry look back in her eyes, as she crooned, "But, here you are! And you'll save us again, won't you? Hero?"
'Gods,' Iolaus thought, speechless, as he gaped at her, 'she's batting her eyes at him!'
He didn't know whether to fall on the floor laughing or run for the hills! How in Hades' name had Hercules met this woman? And poor Herc, he was blushing again and looking like he helplessly wished the floor would just open and swallow him up. Iolaus opened his mouth, bravely intending to say something, anything, to come to the rescue when there was another shriek of "Hercules!" and a mad clatter on the stairs along one side of the wall, as a whirlwind in a kaleidoscope of rainbow colours and streaming garments almost tumbled down the steps in awkward haste to charge across the floor toward the demigod.
Hercules shifted his position a little, again braced himself and opened the arm that the older woman wasn't admiring and uttered, "Ooommpphhh!" as the new arrival launched herself at him, and also made like a limpet as she clung on tight.
"You CAME!" she cried exuberantly, with excitement, relief and enthusiastic welcome. "Oh, thank the gods, YOU'RE HERE!"
Catching the glint of the thin gold band around her finger, Iolaus thought, "Ah, the married one." His brows arched up under his tumbling golden curls, his mouth still open, he looked askance at the demigod.
"Where's your husband?" Hercules asked.
"He's on a buying trip to Patmos to get the dyes I need," she explained, still clinging.
Extricating himself from the grip of the euphoric younger woman, and twitching away as surreptitiously as possible from the older woman's lascivious touch, Hercules waved toward his friend, and said in tones that sounded oddly hunted, "Um, Twanky, Althea, I'd like you to meet Iolaus-you know, the partner I told you about. Iolaus, this is the Widow Twanky and Althea…"
"His first dance partner!" Althea added with a blindingly happy smile up at the demigod as she held out her hand.
Shaking it, Iolaus repeated in muted tones of astonishment, "Dance partner?"
"Yes, and, oh, what a lovely couple they made!" Twanky waxed rapturously in memory. "So dramatic and graceful! So daring and glorious! Quite a sight to see, I assure you, and well-deserving of their first-prize trophy!" Focusing on Iolaus, giving him a slow down and up appraisal, quite obviously missing nothing as her gaze lingered appreciatively from time to time, she clarified further, "And I was their Dance Teacher!"
"Dance teacher?" Iolaus squeaked, then cleared his throat, blushing at the blatant scrutiny of the older woman.
"Uh huh," Althea continued, bubbling over with more information, a veritable flood of it, "But that was before I became a fashion designer, and Hercules saved me from being run out of town, even after our site for the fashion show was destroyed and I was burned out of my studio. And he saved Twanky, too, from the same awful man who was trying to destroy me. He had tried to ruin her because she spurned his odious advances, driving her out of her dance studio with no way to support herself but by being a dance partner in a truly dreadful dance hall." Twanky moaned a little at the memory, her expression suddenly tragic and humiliated, but Althea carried on, "Hercules was simply wonderful! Why he even modeled my designs for men and everything!"
Twanky's expression cleared as she again eyed Hercules with a moue of displeasure, "And we could wish you'd continued wearing some of those clothes you strutted in on that runway."
"Modeled?" Iolaus choked. "Strutted?"
"Um, well, it's a long story," Hercules cut in repressively, but then he rallied as he asked with sincere interest, "So, tell me more about this magistrate who's trying to throw you out of your place and onto the street."
"Alacrites," Twanky sighed dramatically, her hands coming to flatten, one over the other, on her chest at the base of her throat. "He's truly a dreadful, scheming, wretched man." Her hands dropped to clasp one another in a curiously prim posture as she continued, "He's driven out many others already-and then he claims the property 'for the city', but he uses it for his own profit. Nothing better than a thief, really, but a clever one."
Before Hercules could ask anything more, there was a loud thumping of boots as a squad of the local militia, garbed in leather, trouped into the hall, heading toward Twanky and Althea. "What are you still doing here!" their leader demanded. "Why aren't you packed and ready to go!"
Alarmed by the appearance of the hostile militia, the dancing students scurried from the building as Hercules moved between the aggressive, hostile man and the two women. "They aren't going anywhere," he said. "At least, not just yet."
Frowning, the official demanded, "Who are you?"
"Hercules," the demigod replied, smiling tightly as his name registered with the intruders.
"Oh, ah, well, this is none of your business," the supercilious man declared, though he took a cautious step back, and his tone modulated to something approximating civility. "The eviction notice has been duly served and these women are to clear the premises within forty-eight hours. That's the final deadline. There will be no further extensions."
"We'll see about that," Hercules replied, his tone even as he crossed his arms, looking formidable but not immediately threatening.
"Yes, well, see that you do!" the official stammered in confusion as he backed a further step and then turned to hustle his men out the door with all the confusion of a hen marshalling her chicks.
Blowing out a breath once they'd gone, the demigod turned back to Twanky and Althea. "All right, explain to me how you came to own this property and why you know the magistrate has no legitimate claim on it," he asked.
"Well, you see, it belonged to my fifth husband, Richerthanall," Twanky replied, "the merchant prince who traveled far and wide seeking goods and markets, but who had his main business here. Dear, sweet, Richie, so full of his own style and grace, so decisive in decision, quite a man was my Richie-well, anyway, he never forgot me, never ceased to pine for me or to hold fond hopes that I might return to him one day. But he never really understood my need to dance. Too dull, really."
"And this was his building?" Hercules interjected, trying to move the story along to the salient facts of the matter.
"Yes, it was," Twanky replied, a sorrowful look of fond mourning on her face. "When a load of cotton bales broke loose from one of his shipments and rolled over him, suffocating him before he could dig himself out from under, I was informed he'd left this building to me, so that even if he wasn't here anymore, he'd know that I'd come back."
"Uh huh," Hercules drawled, not daring to look at Iolaus. "Do you have the deed?"
"Ah, no," Twanky admitted, pursing her lips. "You see, the deeds for all his properties were kept with his scribe, an odd man who used Phoenician urns to store his scrolls. Scriblus held the deeds for most of the properties in Arcady-people trusted him."
"Why can't you just get the deed from him?" Iolaus asked, daring to draw Twanky's attention back to himself, though he edged a little closer to Hercules. Not so much for protection, exactly, just, oh, just because they were partners.
"He died," Twanky replied tartly. "Supposedly in an accident when one of his urns fell on his head, though I don't believe it for a minute. That terrible Alacrites claimed to have found his body, but I think he murdered the old man. And then Alacrites bought his house, taking possession of all its contents, including all the urns."
"Oh," Iolaus replied, casting a look up at his taller friend who nodded with a grim expression.
"And he's using the fact that he holds all the deeds to evict the rightful owners from their properties," Hercules surmised.
"That's it, exactly!" Twanky crowed, patting his chest with her folded fan in the manner of a very pleased teacher. Except she seemed to lose her train of thought as she gazed as his chest.
Clearing his throat to draw her eyes back up to his own as he crossed his arms over his chest, Hercules said, "So we have to find the scrolls. Where does he live? And where does he keep the urns?"
"He lives in a huge house on the side of town, Hercules," Althea replied breathlessly. "And it's well guarded. Nobody gets in or out without an invitation. The urns are rumoured to be up in the attic, well away from anyone who might try to find them." Throwing her hands into the air, she wailed, "It's impossible! You could never just walk in and find them! He'd just run and get them and run out the back door while you were breaking down the front door!"
Swallowing, blinking at bit at the imagery, Hercules replied, "Well, uh, I hadn't intended to break down any doors. There must be another way to get inside without raising his suspicions."
"Welllll…" Twanky ventured, "he's holding a huge ball tomorrow night."
"A ball?" Iolaus repeated.
"Is there an echo in this building I never noticed before?" Twanky replied with some asperity. "Yes, a ball. You know, with music, where couples go to dance? You do know what dancing is, don't you?"
"I know how to dance!" Iolaus protested, offended that she might think otherwise. Why, he was quite a good dancer. Women liked to dance…and Iolaus liked women. It was Hercules who didn't know how to dance. Or, used to not know how to dance, the warrior thought, looking again at his partner quizzically.
"I'm sure," Twanky scorned. "You probably hop about like a rabbit."
"I do not!" Iolaus exclaimed, slapping a suddenly snickering demigod on the arm. "Tell her I can dance, Herc."
"Iolaus is quite light on his feet, actually," Hercules replied loyally, though his voice quavered with his urge to laugh.
"Really?" Twanky mused, once again giving Iolaus a thoughtful once-over while he resisted the urge to twitch under her scrutiny and wondered why on earth they were talking about dancing. They should be talking about how to get those scrolls.
"What does it matter?" Althea wailed again. "The ball is by invitation only. Alacrites would never let us in!"
"Well, you're right about that, I'm afraid," Twanky sighed.
"Maybe, when it gets dark, we could sneak a ladder in the back and climb up to the attic," Iolaus muttered, worrying the problem over in his head. "Or maybe I could just climb up and sneak in. I used to be a pretty good thief."
"Let's not go there," Hercules suggested, shaking his head. "It's the house of a magistrate. If you were caught, you'd be sent to prison."
"I wouldn't get caught!" Iolaus argued, offended by the idea. And not a little hurt that Herc seemed to think so little of his abilities.
"Hercules!" an oily, smarmy, voice called from the doorway. "Welcome to Arcady!"
"Alacrites, no doubt," the demigod muttered as he turned to face the man who had just entered.
"I am Alacrites, Magistrate of this City," the unctuous man introduced himself with a decided air of self-importance. "It's an honour to have the Son of Zeus grace our fair town."
"Right," muttered Iolaus, mouthing an 'ow' when Hercules elbowed him into silence as the demigod took a step toward the magistrate.
"Alacrites," Hercules replied neutrally, nodding in acknowledgement. "I didn't expect someone of your, ah, importance, to come to greet me personally."
"Oh, not at all, not at all," Alacrites rejoined, full of bonhomie, good will, 'friends well met', and all that. Pulling a fancy small scroll from his sleeve, he continued, "When I heard that a person of your stature was visiting our city, why, I had to come to invite you to my ball tomorrow night. I do hope you can attend… that is, if you're still in town."
"Oh, I think I'll be here for a few days," Hercules replied, one brow arching, not having missed the slight hardening of the other man's tone as he'd pushed for information as to the duration of the demigod's stay.
"Really, how wonderful," Alacrites carried on with false good cheer. Thrusting out the scroll, he insisted, "Then, please, do come, and bring a companion, to my ball. I really won't take 'no' for an answer!"
Reaching out to accept the small scroll, Hercules nodded, "It'll be a pleasure to attend."
"Good, good," Alacrites replied with a patently false smile. "I'll see you then." Ignoring the women, not having seemed to notice Iolaus at all, the odious official took his leave.
Tapping the small scroll into the palm of his other hand, Hercules turned back to face the others. One brow arched, smiling, he said, "It seems we have a way inside-without having to break down any doors."
* * *
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
"Ohhh, GREAT!" Althea exclaimed. "We get to dance together again!"
"Um, no, I'm sorry, Althea," Hercules replied, looking uncomfortable at destroying her hopes, but resolute nonetheless. "I'm afraid this might be too dangerous."
"But…" she began to protest, only to be over-ridden by the Widow Twanky.
"Well, then, I'll just have to be your companion, won't I, Hercules?" she crooned, obviously almost breathless with the idea of being in his arms.
His hands whipping up in unconscious self-defence, Hercules shook his head and took a step back. "No! Ah, no. That is, I think it's too dangerous for either of you to be there. And, ah, Alacrites knows you and would be suspicious."
"But you can't go to a ball without a dance partner," Althea wailed.
Holding out his hands, shaking his head, not having any easy answers, Hercules looked regretful that he'd just have to go alone. But the Widow Twanky snapped her head around toward Iolaus, and then turned to saunter toward him. "Didn't you say you could dance?" she asked archly.
"Uh, well, yeah," Iolaus replied, wondering where she was going with this. But when he looked from her to Althea and then to Hercules, he saw understanding bloom on their faces along with a thoughtful, assessing look by Althea who was already considering the dress that would be required, and twitching lips on the demigod's face as he tried not to snort with laughter. The light of understanding dawned on the hapless blond hunter's face and Iolaus shook his head. His hands came up in protest as he backed away from Twanky, who kept pace with him and never let the space between them widen, making him feel uncomfortably as if he was being stalked. "NO! No, no, no, no, NO!" he stated categorically, even emphatically.
As if 'no' was ever an option.
"NO!" Iolaus repeated once more into the silence, still hoping that someone would pay attention to him.
"Better than being a thief in the night," Hercules offered thin consolation.
"That's your opinion. NO!" Iolaus said again.
"Oh, piffle," Twanky remonstrated. "You'll do nicely. You're the perfect size…"
"You mean, 'short'?" Iolaus challenged, fire in his eyes.
"I mean…compact," she replied, her eyes drifting over his well-muscled frame…and with something akin to horror, he saw the hungry look in her eyes, now, when she looked at him.
"Hercules???" Iolaus appealed, desperate.
"Don't worry, Iolaus, I'm sure it will work out fine," the demigod replied with manful reassurance.
"He just needs the right clothes," Althea muttered, pulling a measuring tape out of her pocket as she strode up to him to note his dimensions.
"And we'll have to do something with his hair," Twanky observed, reaching out to fluff his curls, a look of appreciation in her eyes. "Though, it's too bad to cover such golden beauty…but, no matter. I have just the thing in a trunk behind the stage." Looking deeply into Iolaus' eyes, she took a deep breath as she asked huskily, "You're sure you know how to dance?"
His shoulders slumping, realizing he was out-numbered, Iolaus surrendered with a woeful nod.
"Well," she said archly, "I'm not at all sure. So, let's put you and Hercules through your paces, shall we?"
With an imperious wave toward her musician, she called for, "Music, Maestro!" and the hall filled with a jaunty little tune while Althea scampered upstairs to get to work.
The demigod was pretty sure this wouldn't work and that Twanky would soon see it was hopeless, so he wasn't too concerned and couldn't resist teasing his friend. So, Hercules moved to face Iolaus and inclined his head as he held out his hand, his lips again twitching in amusement.
Groaning, his eyes rolling, Iolaus heaved a mighty sigh, closed his eyes and reached out to allow Hercules to take him by the hand. They'd only danced a few steps, however, Iolaus tripping over Hercules' feet in the unfamiliar role of 'follower', when Twanky shrieked, "Oh, NO! That won't do AT ALL! You need to be light, graceful, floating on the music, carried away by the beat of it!"
"Floating?" Iolaus moaned.
Shaking her head, Twanky opined with grim resolution, "This is going to take a LOT of work."
Hercules' hopes that she might give up died a mournful death.
* * *
The dedicated dance teacher put them 'through their paces' hour after hour after hour, until long past the fall of darkness. She took hold of both of their bodies whenever she felt the need to do so, ruthlessly positioning them, time and again. Lifting chins. Stretching out arms. Positioning fingers to drape 'just so' in the air. Shifting grips. She lectured and harangued and demonstrated steps, once ordering Althea back downstairs to show Iolaus how it should look when a woman danced properly with a man.
"I'm not a woman," he groused.
"That's irrelevant," she snapped back. "When I'm through with you, you will dance like a woman. A graceful woman!"
"Oh, that's great, just great," Iolaus groaned.
Hercules just snickered.
When Iolaus tossed him an 'I'm going to make you pay and pay and pay for this' look, Hercules just held up his hands innocently as he said, "I offered to let you go fishing…"
Iolaus snorted, but Twanky hit him on the head with her fan to make him pay attention.
So the two heroes returned to the dance.
Finally, exhausted, Iolaus and Hercules collapsed to the floor, claiming they couldn't dance another step without rest. Harrumphing at their lack of endurance, Twanky showed them to her guest room in the back, behind the stage.
But she was back again, with the first light of dawn, positively relentless as she pounded on their door with the stick she used to count the beat. With muffled groans, the heroes woke and prepared to meet the challenges of the day.
In order to help Iolaus begin to better assume his role, she'd dragged out a long, blond wig from one of her many trunks filled with old costumes, and insisted that he wear it. Hercules could scarcely bear to look at his mournful partner, with those thick tresses falling to either side of his face and far past his shoulders, without breaking up into gales of laugher. And, to add to the effect, she insisted that Iolaus pull on a skirt that Althea provided, to get used to dancing in suitable garb.
Which all added to his humiliation of dancing the part of a woman when the hair got in his eyes, or he tripped over the skirt throwing off their pacing. "Sorry," he muttered, well and truly cowed by the formidable dance teacher, "it keeps getting in the way."
Twanky would just roll her eyes and have them begin again.
After what seemed like truly endless hours, feeling hot from the exertion, his hair damp from sweat, Iolaus hauled off the wig and complained, "Look, I'm tired and hot and thirsty! Couldn't we take a break?"
Admiring his sweaty chest, Twanky considered his request and finally capitulated, giving them a quarter hands-span to catch their breath and cool off.
Iolaus gathered up his skirts and stomped out of the hall to the exit in the back that led to the well, Hercules ambling in his wake. Twanky sashayed after the both of them, enjoying the view.
Outside, Iolaus hauled up some water and then dumped the whole bucket of refreshingly cool liquid over his head, where it splashed and then fell in a glimmering sheet over hot and strained muscles. Spluttering, he shook his curls and then pushed them back with one hand, as Hercules conducted his own cooling off impromptu shower. Twanky heaved a sigh, thinking they'd cool off even more if they'd take off some of that hot leather.
"You know, Herc," Iolaus muttered, "it would be a whole lot easier to just go see Hades and borrow his Helmet of Invisibility."
"And you know I don't like to ask my relatives for favours," Hercules replied. "Well, not unless it's really important and there is no other way."
Though the demigod smiled easily as he spoke, Iolaus saw the darker memories in his best friend's eyes and regretted having mentioned Hades. "Yeah, I know," he sighed. "But this is never going to work, Herc! Nobody is ever going to believe I'm a woman!"
"Nonsense, you just leave it to us, young man," Twanky assured him confidently. "Why with those eyes, and that mouth, and your, ah, compact frame, no one will guess the truth."
"Gods, I hope not," Iolaus muttered, trying to imagine ever living down a reputation for being known to dress up as a woman in order to go to a ball with Hercules.
Twanky, ever the hard taskmistress, herded them back inside where they began again. As the hours went by, though they'd never have known from her constant barrage of criticism and complaint about everything they were doing wrong, she was actually quite pleased. Hercules evidently remembered most of what she'd taught him before. And the demigod had been quite right; his partner was 'light on his feet'.
Finally, in late afternoon, when Althea clattered down the stairs with garments stacked over her arm, Twanky called a halt. It was time to begin the transformation of a brave warrior hero into a dancing damsel. Althea and Twanky hustled Iolaus away, ordering Hercules to wash and get dressed in his own attire, the stunning midnight blue dance costume Twanky had made him wear the year before.
The women had Iolaus fill a tub with steaming water in one of the back rooms, and ruthlessly began to strip off his garments.
"Do you mind!" he shouted, pulling away indignantly.
"Oh, nonsense," Twanky remonstrated. "It's nothing either of us haven't seen before!"
"Yeah, well, you haven't seen what I have before," he expostulated, trying to shoo them from the room.
Rolling her eyes while Althea giggled, Twanky dumped a flask of lavender oil into the tub. "Fine," she allowed grudgingly. "We'll be back in ten minutes."
Once they'd gone, Iolaus wrinkled his nose at the floral-scented water, but he quickly stripped, climbed in and hurriedly washed off the sweat and grime, scampering back out and into a towel before they could return and catch him unawares.
And he wasn't a moment too soon in wrapping the scrap of cloth around his loins!
They breezed back in, both women with their arms loaded with various bits of clothing, pots of cosmetics in their hands. He made them turn around as he struggled into the stockings and the layers of crinoline, mumbling under his breath about how it was always him who got to look ridiculous. And then he had to stand still, blushing furiously, as Twanky fussed about sorting out his 'bust' and then pulled a silken camisole over his head. Althea then came forward with her creation, a lovely gown of shimmering blues that buttoned tightly up his throat under his jaw, with generous long sleeves that gathered at the wrist, and a loose-fitting bodice and skirt that slipped over him with a silken rustle to drape with casual elegance to his feet. It was really quite tasteful and attractive.
Then they pushed him down on a chair and went to work on his face. Cream to soften and lighten sun-bronzed skin. Then blush was applied, his lashes and brows darkened, his lips painted. Finally, Twanky reached for a different wig that she'd brought into the chamber, a mass of golden curls piled high, with charming wispy ringlets that tumbled lightly over his brow, along one cheek and curled at the nape of his neck when she fitted it on him. Stepping back, they both studied him, made him stand and turn around as they examined the effect of the disguise. Twanky had him put on a pair of her glittering dark blue dancing slippers and they studied him again.
"His hands aren't right," Althea muttered.
"I agree," Twanky asserted.
So they buffed and painted his fingernails a charming rose blush colour to match his lips.
Stepping back again, they gazed at him critically, and finally, both began to nod. It worked. It really worked.
"The colour is marvellous on him, my dear," Twanky gushed to Althea. "It brings out his glorious eyes. And your brilliance has come up with the perfect design for his gown. I congratulate you!"
"His hair is perfect, too," Althea observed, smiling at Twanky to acknowledge the older woman's choice of the best wig from her collection from the days when she'd owned a dance troupe. "And I love the rose-pink lipstick."
"I'm glad you're both so pleased," Iolaus groused, wondering how he would dare go out in public looking like this.
But both of them whirled back to face him, shouting in unison, "Don't talk!"
"Unless you can make yourself sound more like a woman!" Twanky continued sternly.
"Great," Iolaus sighed.
But when they led him to a mirror, he simply gaped as he gazed at the reflection that reminded him of his mother; a long ago favourite memory of when she'd dressed up one night to accompany Skouros to a special military function.
And then he smiled slowly.
This just might work.
* * *
Hercules had been pacing restlessly for what felt like hours when the two women finally came back into the hall, their faces bright with anticipation. Twanky dramatically waved toward the doorway as she intoned, "Hercules, I present your new dance partner!"
When Iolaus sidled into the room, the demigod just stared at his partner, his mouth falling open in astonishment. "Iolaus?" he croaked, unable to believe his eyes.
With a coy, tight-lipped smile, Iolaus batted his lashes and then moved forward, at first with his usual gait until Twanky chided, "Walk gracefully, like a woman…" He stopped, and then continued with a smoother grace, taking smaller steps, picturing in his mind the way his mother had walked on that long ago day.
When he stopped in front of the demigod, Hercules shook his head. "You look…lovely," Hercules observed with evident amazement. "And you smell pretty good, too."
"Thank you, Hercules," Iolaus replied, his voice pitched lower, more sultry. "I must say, you look pretty good, too, in those clothes. They'd last about two seconds in a real fight, mind you…but nice. Very nice."
"I've ordered a carriage to take you to Alacrites' house," Twanky informed them briskly. "How will you proceed once you're there?"
"Well," Hercules replied, casting a look at Iolaus for agreement, "we'll dance for awhile and mingle. And then Iolaus can slip out to find his way to the attic and the urns."
"Good idea, Herc," Iolaus agreed. "They won't notice that I've disappeared, as much as they would if you left the party. But, ah, I won't have time to go through all the scrolls, and I should probably bring them all out anyway. How'm I going to carry them without Alacrites and his mob noticing?"
"I've taken care of that, Iolaus," Althea offered. "There're large pockets sewn on the inside of your petticoats. You can put the scrolls in them, and the dress might not hang quite as well as it does now, but nobody should really notice."
"Excellent!" Iolaus approved with a broad smile, winning a bright smile in return from the eager-to-please young woman.
"So…shall we go?" Hercules asked.
"How will you introduce your companion, Hercules?" Twanky demanded, having considered every detail of the charade, her eyes sparkling with a knowing look and her mouth pursed in satisfaction at her foresight when Hercules looked askance at her and then turned to Iolaus.
"Call me 'Erythea', Herc," Iolaus suggested.
Hercules tilted his head at the name and then he nodded with understanding. "All right."
They all moved across the hall and out the door to the waiting coach, Iolaus having to remember to gather up his skirt and allow Hercules to help him up into the open carriage.
And then Hercules and his new dancing companion set off for the ball.
* * *
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
They rode through the early dusk, the streets now quieter, emptier after the hustle and bustle of the day. Torches already flickered from poles set at intervals along the streets. As they neared Alacrites' opulent home, they fell in behind other carriages, and others were soon following them, as the powerful and rich elite of the town made their own way to the ball. The road ran along beside the river for a time, and then curved back through a grove of trees as the coaches turned up a long lane toward a massive house in the distance.
"It's more a palace than a house," Iolaus muttered under his breath. Built of greenish-grey stone, solid and impressive, the stately residence rose four stories above them.
"Uh huh," Hercules agreed. "Maybe I should go with you to search…"
"Nah, I'll be all right," his partner replied. "Who'd ever suspect anything with me in this get-up?"
"You're right about that," the demigod agreed. "I don't think I'd recognize you myself if I didn't already know it was you."
Iolaus chuckled wryly. "Just remember, next time, you get to wear the disguise!"
Before Hercules could respond, the coach had drawn up by the door and he was stepping out to the ground, turning to help Iolaus descend. Alacrites greeted them as they entered the arched portal, simpering over Hercules and making a great fuss over his companion. "My dear," he crooned. "I don't believe we've met before!"
"Erythea is visiting with me from Thebes," Hercules replied smoothly.
"Perhaps we'll be able to persuade you to stay," Alacrites oozed, then at a glare from Hercules, he added, "Both of you. Of course, I meant both of you."
"I'm sure you did," the demigod replied coolly as he guided his companion into the edifice, following the crowd to the large, richly appointed hall. Servants were circulating with silver platters of finger-food, melon and cheese wrapped in prosciutto, mushroom caps with crabmeat, stuffed grape leaves, fried calamari and other tasty tidbits. Music was being played by men with lutes and pipes and some couples were already dancing.
Iolaus, starving since Twanky had determined they didn't have the time to waste eating all day, snagged morsels of food as the trays floated by. He wanted to grab handfuls of the stuff, and wondered how women did it, settling for one tiny, delicate bite, not even a mouthful, at a time.
Hercules gradually moved him through the hall, and both of them took note of the members of the local militia who adorned the walls like statues.
"Care to dance?" Hercules leaned down to ask.
"Sure," Iolaus acceded, knowing he had to, that it was part of their cover to fit in with every other couple there. Tilting his chin, he gave Hercules a wink and they moved out to strut their stuff.
And they made such a stylish couple that they attracted admiring glances as they danced smoothly and lightly on the polished wood of the floor, whirling with enough fancy footwork to be impressive and do Twanky proud.
They danced and mingled for more than an hour, Hercules doing most of the talking when they were off the dance floor, though he missed Iolaus' usually witty banter on occasions such as this. 'Erythea', however, was much more subdued, even charmingly shy. Iolaus decided there were more than a few boors present who felt they could make themselves free with other men's women. Frustrated with the limitations of the role he was playing, he jumped again, for the umpteenth time, and was hard pressed not to curse when another such boor pinched him. Longing to whirl into action, he entertained himself with fantasies of slamming more than a few heads into the generous porcelain punchbowls placed strategically on tables around the edges of the hall, all the while smiling serenely and nodding as if he was enjoying himself immensely as the demure 'companion' on the arm of the Son of Zeus.
"You want me to fight for your honour?" Hercules murmured when he felt Iolaus twitch again as a man passed close behind them.
"I wish," Iolaus replied, thin-lipped, his voice pitched to only slightly more than a whisper. "But we're supposed to remain unobtrusive, remember? Or at least I am."
Gradually, the hall filled as the crowd grew, until finally they both judged that Iolaus could slip away without his absence being detected. Hercules continued to roam the crowd, chatting easily, keeping attention on himself as he kept a watch on Alacrites and the guards. So far, so good.
* * *
Iolaus moved as quickly as he could through the halls, explaining to any servant who stopped him that he was looking for someplace to 'fix his makeup' or 'check his hair'. They'd wave him in the right direction and as soon as they weren't paying any attention, he'd head down another hall or up another staircase, until he finally found the attic.
In the dim moon and starlight that filtered in through the high, narrow apertures cut in the stone walls, he was able to make out a cluster of Phoenician urns on a table in one corner. Moving carefully and quietly across the floor, he listened for the sounds of any pursuit, but his absence seemed still to be unnoticed. Quickly, he tipped over the urns, one after another, dumping dusty scrolls onto the table. He sneezed, and then stiffened, again listening…but all was quiet.
Lifting his skirt, he began stuffing the pockets of his petticoat with scrolls, spreading them out around his body so that they wouldn't be noticeable. He licked his lips, his mouth dry, as he continued to listen while he worked, until finally all the scrolls were tucked away.
Quickly, he straightened the skirt of his gown, squared his shoulders and hurried back across the attic floor and down the narrow wooden steps, moving silently in Twanky's soft leather dancing slippers. At the bottom, he paused to listen again, and then eased open the door, peering around it, but there was no one in the hallway beyond. He crossed the landing and then down another flight of stairs, and was crossing the second floor to the stairs down to the passage behind the hall, when another servant called out, wondering if he wanted anything.
"No, nothing at all," he trilled, touching his hair, and then his chin, batting his eyelashes coyly as he waved daintily. "I found what I needed and I'm going back to the party. Thank you so much!"
The servant, unsuspecting, nodded and turned away, thinking the woman not stunningly attractive, but that she had a certain mature beauty.
Once Iolaus regained Hercules' side, he slipped an arm through the demigod's arm, sidling close, looking demure.
"Erythea," Hercules turned to look down with a warm smile. "Come, let's dance."
And so Hercules and his companion danced for another half hour, and then eased their way through the crowd to Alacrites.
"Erythea is still a bit tired after our journey here," Hercules explained. "So, I think we'll be off. Thank you for inviting us to your home."
"I hope to see you again, Hercules," Alacrites gushed. "And you, too, my dear," he added with a leer.
Iolaus just smiled coyly and with his head held high, his hand resting on Hercules' arm, he strolled into the night with the demigod.
* * *
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,"-that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Twanky and Althea were waiting anxiously for them, and both pranced to the door to greet them when they finally returned.
"Did you get the scrolls?" Twanky asked, trying to seem unconcerned, but worry clouded her eyes.
"Yep," Iolaus smirked as he lifted his skirt and began to haul dusty scrolls out of his petticoat, letting them fall to litter the floor around his feet like so many odd-shaped hailstones.
"Oh, Iolaus!" Althea exclaimed, leaping forward to wrap him in a tight hug. "You're beautiful!"
"Alacrites certainly seemed to think so," Hercules snickered, well pleased with their night's work.
Iolaus threw his best friend a good-natured glare, but then he burst out laughing as well. "That jerk!" he exclaimed. "What a piece of work he is…and a lot of his friends weren't much better," he added, rubbing his pinched and bruised backside.
"And you danced?" Twanky couldn't resist asking, wondering if they really would have, or if they'd only circulated in the crowd.
Looping an arm around Iolaus' shoulders, Hercules grinned, "Yes, Twanky, we danced. And when some of the others complimented me while Iolaus was sneaking around upstairs, I told them we'd learned everything we knew from you."
"So you'll probably have a whole bunch of new students come morning," Iolaus laughed, also well pleased that it had all gone without a hitch. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll just change into something a little more comfortable."
* * *
It wasn't until late the next morning that Alacrites, along with a few of his closest, most boorish, colleagues, learned that the Phoenician urns had been plundered.
"What!" he screamed at his hapless and frightened secretary who had been sent for several of the scrolls so that the men could determine which businesses to plunder next.
"They're gone, Master, all of them," the servant stammered, cringing.
His eyes narrowing, not quite a perfect fool, Alacrites realized he'd been had by the demigod and his companion. "Come with me," he snarled to his friends as he strode from his solar, yelling for his guards as he headed out of his residence and into the city.
* * *
Hercules, Iolaus, Twanky and Althea, along with their friends, had had a busy morning sending messages to all the other people whose scrolls they now had, asking them to come urgently to the House of Dance and Design.
By the time Alacrites and his mob of associates and guards arrived, the hall was filled with people who were holding the scrolls detailing their ownership of their properties in trembling, grateful hands.
"Hercules!" Alacrites thundered as he strode purposefully into the hall, only to stumble a little in hesitation at the sight of the crowd gathered there…a crowd that growled when they saw him arrive.
"Yes, Alacrites?" the demigod replied, turning to face the irate man. "Was there something you wanted?"
"You stole from me!" the magistrate hissed. "I'm putting you under arrest!"
"Stole what? When?" Hercules demanded, opening his arms wide in a posture of innocence.
"Documents. Important documents," Alacrites snarled. "Last night, during the ball!"
Shaking his head, Hercules replied mildly, "I was in full view in the hall the whole time I was there last night. I didn't steal anything from you."
"It was that woman, that Erythea!" the furious man charged. "Where is she?"
Iolaus strolled forward to stand beside Hercules, as he replied, "Erythea isn't with us anymore."
For a moment, Alacrites stared at the blond standing so boldly beside Hercules, and shook his head a little as if trying to clear it. There was something about the eyes, and the mouth… "It was YOU!" he shouted, appalled. "You lied and deceived me! Abused my hospitality! Get them! Get them both and lock them up!" he screamed to his guards.
As the guards rushed forward, the crowd roared in disapproval and the musician in the corner thought a little music might be nice. As he played fast, dramatic chords, Hercules and Iolaus swung into the dance they were best at.
Iolaus whirled and kicked, leaping high into the air, while Hercules straight-punched and twirled hapless guards over his head, sending them to crash against the wall. Alacrites' toadies got into the battle, and Iolaus had the pleasure of punching out several of the boors who had been so free with their hands the night before. Althea smacked one guard over the head with a chair and plunged one of her longer needles into another one's butt, causing him to jump high with a startled squeal. Twanky lifted her skirts and charged forward, kicking high, connecting jutting chins solidly with her dainty foot that was encased in a sturdy leather shoe.
Alacrites had backed away, out of the action, but Hercules spotted him making for the portal and strode after him, flicking off attackers who tried to slow him down as if they were no more than annoying ants, while Iolaus moved with him, covering his back.
The demigod reached out and snagged Alacrites by the collar of his official robe of office, just as the man was ready to bolt away.
"Not so fast, Alacrites," Hercules growled, hauling him forward to stand in front of the crowd who'd been cheering mightily as each guard and toady fell, until none were left standing, Iolaus having cleaned up while Hercules focused on forestalling the magistrate's escape. "This isn't over yet."
"I'll see you in prison!" the man babbled, still trying to retain a vestige of his arrogant authority.
"Not unless I come to visit you there, which isn't likely," Hercules replied coldly. "You betrayed the trust of your position and lied to these people, stole from them and intended to steal more of their properties!"
"That's not true," the man whined. "That's a lie!"
"The truth is, you are liar and a thief!" Hercules roared. "Worse than that. You abused your authority and used the courts against honest people to drive them from their homes and properties! That ends NOW! They have their rightful deeds, and they are reclaiming what you took from them." Hercules looked at the slimy character a moment more, scorn flashing in his eyes. And then the demigod turned to search the crowd. "Take them away and lock them up," he ordered.
Men surged forward and grabbed the erstwhile magistrate, his cronies and his hapless guards and hauled them away. In seconds, the hall was cleared as the happy, relieved owners clutching their deeds left to celebrate their good fortune, effusively thanking Hercules and Iolaus as they departed.
"Hercules and Iolaus," Twanky sighed with a great heaving of breath as she smiled at them both, clasping her hands tight against her generous bosom. "Our heroes!"
"Well, actually, I think 'Erythea' deserves most of the credit," the demigod smirked at his best friend.
"Don't start, Hercules," Iolaus warned as he turned to face his partner. When he saw the quirked brow and the question in the demigod's eyes, Iolaus couldn't help but grin and shake his head. "All right, I won't tease you if you don't tease me," he agreed with a short laugh, recalling Hercules' words and worries as they'd made their way to Arcady. Neither hero wanted any of the stories involving Twanky and Althea to be particularly well known. The stories just didn't fit with their tough-guy, fearless warrior image.
"So," Twanky simpered as she sidled closer, giving each man a hungry look, "now that that's all over and taken care of, we can, ah, relax and celebrate…"
"Ah, well, actually, we can't stay," Hercules stammered, a blush creeping up his throat.
"No?" she protested, then pouted with a moue of regret. "Why not?"
"We've got an appointment…elsewhere," Iolaus offered, joining Hercules as they each backed toward the door.
"Surely it can wait," she cajoled prettily, batting her eyelashes.
"Uh, no," Hercules stammered.
"It's a war," Iolaus offered.
"In Mycenae," Hercules added.
"I haven't heard of any war in Mycenae," Althea mused, looking confused and sorry to see them go.
"Gotta run!" Hercules said with a wave as he turned and bolted out the door.
"'Bye!" Iolaus called as he, too, took to his heels.
They darted through the streets and on out into the countryside.
Hercules laughed as they loped away from Arcady, calling to his partner as they ran, "Told you, you would have rather gone fishing!"