for Allie and jfg, who like the little guys, and for Mary, for being so patient while she waits for the next 'Big Guys' adventure. This story is a prequel to 'New Friends'

Iolaus shuffled restlessly in front of the bakeshop, the enticing scents wafting through the door making his empty stomach rumble as he listened to his father, Skouros, haggle with Kevson over the price of grain. Bored and hungry, Iolaus was having a crisis of conscious. His mom had told him that snitching tarts was bad, but Joseph the baker never seemed to mind all that much, and oh! did those tarts smell good! So he shuffled, thought longingly about tasty tarts, and listened to his rumbling belly as his father and the grain merchant argued in the background.

Skouros had returned home late the night before, weeks later than expected, and days too late to witness the birth of his fourth child, but just in time to keep his growing family from starvation.

This last child had been a long time coming, and Skouros' wife, after long hours of labor, had been in no condition these last few days to drag herself to the market and beg yet more credit from the local merchants; the few dinars in cash Skouros had left behind for expenses having run out the previous month, about the time Skouros had been due back. As a result, she had been almost pitifully grateful to see her husband, even if he was markedly less than overjoyed when presented with his beautiful new child.

"Another daughter, another dowry," he had muttered in disgust, and turned away without another word to spend the rest of the evening downing the skin of wine he had brought with him.

This morning hadn't been much better. Skouros had taken one look at the pitifully tiny dollops of gruel his wife had given the three older children for breakfast and demanded to know where the real food was. A quick survey of the pantry and root cellar had confirmed his wife's claim that the gruel was all that was left, and precious little of even that. Grumbling to himself, Skouros had decided a trip to the market was in immediate order. Leaving his eldest daughter, all of six, to help her mother with the baby and the two-year-old, he took his only son and headed into Thebes.

Iolaus had been thrilled at the chance of spending time with his Dad, especially time when Skouros was awake, and reasonably sober. And there had been the chance at an apple or something. His parents hadn't noticed his little sister wistfully scraping her empty bowl, hoping to find some more, but Iolaus had, and he had pushed his bowl over to her.

"Go on, I don' like por-idge," he had muttered, and been warmed at her smile of gratitude as she gratefully gobbled it down. But that gratitude hadn't filled his own stomach, and Skouros hadn't even thought to buy his son a piece of fruit; all of which made for a very hungry little boy surrounded by temptation who was quickly losing the battle with his own budding morality.

Would snitching one tart be so very bad? He could sweep the baker's shop later to pay for it, like he sometimes did.

No, Mom said that snitching was bad. But he was so hungry, and those tarts smelled so good! Joseph was the best baker in Greece; everybody said so.

Cairo, the baker's daughter, noticed a pair of bright blue eyes topped by a tangle of golden curls peeking hungrily around the doorsill. Easing over to her father, she nudged him gently and murmured, "Little Iolaus is back."

Her father, a gentle and kind man, glanced up and flashed a friendly smile towards the door.

The blue eyes promptly vanished.

The baker chuckled, and 'accidentally' nudged a tray of tarts on the counter with his elbow. "Cairo, dear, can you move these out of the way, please?" he asked, winking at her as he sauntered back into the kitchen to check on the bread in the oven.

"Sure," Cairo replied a trifle loudly, lifting the tarts to carry them to the low table just inside the door, "I'll just put them right here to cool," she commented, and moved casually away, finding something absolutely fascinating behind the counter to fully occupy her attention. She absolutely, positively didn't see the grubby little hand that crept around the edge of the door to grab a single tart.

Seconds later, heart beating wildly more in fear of getting caught by his father than in fear of the kindly baker, Iolaus ducked into the nearest alley to enjoy his stolen prize.

Hunkering down behind an untidy stack of discarded crates and flour bags, Iolaus looked around quickly to make sure he was absolutely alone before taking the tiniest nibble from the edge of the tart, eyes closing in ecstasy at the first burst of sweet-tartness on his tongue. The tart was berry, his absolute favorite.

"Yummy?" a soft voice asked warmly in his ear.

Eyes springing open in shocked guilt, Iolaus found himself nose-to-nose with a plump toddler, who was gazing curiously at him with wide blue eyes.

"Pweddy!" the toddler crowed, smiling happily as it slapped the top if the startled boy's head with open palms, giggling at the feel of Iolaus' springy curls on its skin. "Ooooo!" it cooed.

Iolaus blinked, gathering his startled thoughts and reflectively ducking a second round of open-handed slaps. The toddler settled for grabbing a handful of curls with plump, strong little fingers and tugging hard.

"Owch!" Iolaus swatted at the clutching little fingers, "Too hard!"

The toddler gurgled and tugged again.

Placing his tart in his lap, Iolaus reached up and pried those strong little fingers free. Remembering what his mother had said to his little sister, he scolded, "Soft! Pat soft!" and let go of the baby's hands.

The toddler tentatively reached over and patted the top of Iolaus head. "Sof'?"

Iolaus smiled in encouragement. "Tha's right. Soft."

"Oooooo, sof'," the toddler crooned, patting again, "Pweddy sof'!"

Iolaus grinned. "I'm Iolaus," he said, "Not 'pretty'."

"Pweddy!" the toddler insisted, patting away and giggling. It started to drool.

Iolaus tried to remember whom else in the village had a baby. Iphy had a little brother, but this couldn't be him. Iphy's brother would be too young to even walk yet.

As though it had somehow heard his thoughts, the toddler abruptly sat down hard.

"Yummy?" it repeated, leaning forward to take a bite out of the tart Iolaus had just picked up.

"Hey! Mine!" Iolaus protested, snatching the tart away.

The big blue eyes clouded with confusion, and the round little face scrunched up unhappily. "No yummy?" it whimpered.

Iolaus crumpled immediately. Maybe his Dad was right after all, and he was too soft.

"Don' cry. You can have haf'," he offered hurriedly, breaking what was left of the tart in two and handing the smaller piece to the toddler, who made short work of it.

Iolaus swallowed his last mouthful just as now-sticky little fingers found his hair again. "Pweddy!" the toddler repeated happily.

"No, Iolaus,"the blonde giggled.

"Pweddy!" the younger child insisted, crawling up Iolaus' front to happily pat his hair with both sticky hands. "Ooohhhh," it sighed.

Giggling again, Iolaus pried the toddler off him, holding it out at arm's length as it lurched forwards, reaching out once more for his hair. "What's your name?" he asked.

The toddler blinked at him and smiled. "Pweddy?" it asked hopefully.

Iolaus giggled. The toddler giggled, too.

Iolaus tried a different tack. "Are you a boy or a girl?" he asked. He couldn't tell. Its blonde hair was cut in the classic 'bowl over the head' cut, and it was dressed in a light blue unbelted cloth tunic that just reached the top of its fat little thighs, clearly showing the bulge of diaper underneath. On its feet it wore soft tan boots with tiny bells on them.

The toddler crouched down to peer at him quizzically. "Grrr-ll?" it asked back. Standing abruptly, it went back to patting his hair.

Since this gave him a close-up view of its plump little belly, Iolaus decided to look for himself. Lifting the tunic and pulling at the waistband, he peeked inside.

"Boy," he announced, letting go of the waistband, curiosity satisfied.

"Pweddy boy!" the toddler crowed, patting enthusiastically and bouncing up and down. This made the toddler lose its precarious balance, and it lurched forward into Iolaus' arms.

"Herckie wuv pweddy," he sighed in Iolaus' ear- and drooled down his neck. Herckie followed up his declaration of love with a sticky kiss to Iolaus' grubby cheek, arms around his neck in a fierce hug.

Iolaus savored the hug for a long moment, unwilling to let go despite the warm drool on his shoulder, enjoying the warm, plump little arms around his neck. Iolaus liked being hugged; and this strange little kid was like his little sissy, all huggly-cuddly sweet.

At last, reluctantly, he pushed the toddler gently away, holding him at arm's length. "Is that you? Herckie?" Iolaus asked the baby who was trying to wriggle back into his arms.

Herckie gurgled happily and lunged forward, toppling Iolaus backwards. Sitting on the older boy's stomach, he leaned over and gave Iolaus another wet, sticky kiss on the cheek. "Wuv pweddy," he cooed again.

Giggling, Iolaus pushed him off and clambered to his feet, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. Hauling the toddler to his feet and taking his hand, he suggested, "C'mon, Herckie, les' go find your mom."

Herckie looked up, eyes wide with delight. "Pweddy come?" he asked, clearly thinking this was the best news possible.

"Yeh, c'mon," Iolaus replied, tugging on his hand and leading him towards the mouth of the alley. Herckie toddled along happily, chanting, "Pweddy come, pweddy come."

Looking ahead, Iolaus could see the opposite side of the street through the opening of the alley. Alcmene hurried into view, frantically glancing around, very much like a mother looking for a lost child. Cairo, the baker's daughter was with her, helping to look.

"I don't know how he could have gotten away so fast," Alcmene muttered, bending to peer under a small carpet hanging off the edge of a market stall, "I just put him down for a minute... oh!, how I wish Iphy weren't visiting his uncle! He's good at finding Hercules when he wanders off like this!"

Cairo, peering suspiciously under another table, shrugged. "We'll find him, ma'm. He's got to be here somewhere. " Standing, she shrugged again, arms open. "He can barely walk. How far could he have gone?"

"You would be amazed," Alcmene sighed, feeling extremely guilty. Hercules had wanted a 'yummy', and she had only put him down for second while she packed the tarts into her market basket. Then she had reached down to pick him back up, only to find that he had disappeared.

Across the street in the alley, Iolaus squatted down and pointed towards the figure of Alcmene. "Look, Herckie! Is that your Mom?" he asked.

Hercules looked, and lit up. "Momma!" he shrieked joyfully, and took off like a rocket, dragging a startled Iolaus along by the hand. "Momma! Pweddy come, Momma, Pweddy come!"

Alcmene jerked up from where she was peering under another table, spinning at the familiar and welcome sounds of tinkling bells and childish joy. Her beloved Hercules was rushing towards her from across the street, pudgy little legs a blur, dragging a slightly older and very bewildered child with him.

"Pretty come!" he shrieked, loud enough to cause several grimacing bystanders to slap their hands over their ears protectively.

They never made it across the street.

Alcmene felt the horses coming, the ground shivering beneath her sandals, a split second before they came thundering down the village street, scattered goods and panicked people before them. The men atop the horses were burly, sullen, unwashed, and armed to their mostly non-existent teeth; but Alcmene didn't have time to really notice any of that.

Acting on pure Mother-instinct, Alcmene threw herself into the road, scooping up her baby son and his new acquisition in one swift movement. She stumbled into the wall of the shop, and huddled there, the boys hidden in her skirts. She shuddered, years of being a warrior's wife warning her what was about to happen.

Chaos erupted around the little group. The horsemen savagely lashed out, wounding some villagers with their swords while others fell victim to the lashing hooves of their warhorses. The attack was as vicious as it was swift, with several of the horsemen leaping to the ground to chase terrified, unarmed villagers. Skouros led the counterattack as he and several other village men who had been trained in the art of war sprang forward with cries of rage to defend their homes and families. Skouros may not have been very good at being a husband and father, but as a warrior he was one of the best, his Spartan training enabling him to wound several of the marauders until he, himself, was struck down by a blow from behind. The village blacksmith, who had been fighting at Skouros' side, bellowed in pain as the same raider who had felled Skouros slashed open his side with a vicious thrust. An old man, caught under one of the warhorse's hooves screamed as he was trampled to death.

Alcmene cowered against the protective wall, shielding the boys with her own body, worrying about the fate of Cairo, and fervently praying to the Gods, any god, for help.

"Momma?" Herckie whimpered, confused and frightened by the clash of swords, the hoarse bellows of the attackers, and the screaming of their victims.

"Shush!" Iolaus whispered, shivering, as he pulled Herckie protectively tight to him. "Don't make noise!"

The attack ended quickly, the few armed villagers being far outnumbered by the raiders. As the captured warriors were being tied up, the leader of the marauders slid off his steed to grace the survivors of the attack with a nasty smile that revealed a noticeable lack of dental work.

"Relax, people," he purred, striding over to kick Skouros unconscious form.

"Why ain't he dead?" he asked the burly man binding the cursing blacksmith's arms behind his back.

The raider looked up and shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "Served under him once. Damned fine warrior, fair to his men. Seemed a shame to slit his throat," he explained.

The leader regarded the still form for a moment, then shrugged too. "Fair enough," he decided, dismissing Skouros from his mind and turning away to address the surrounding villagers.

"See, folks, no reason to get your knickers in a knot. We're not here to kill anybody. We're just gonna do a little raiding, a little pillaging, a little of this, a little of that. Just be nice and give us what we want and nobody gets hurt-much." His grin grew wider as he scanned the crowd. "And I see just what I want right now," he purred, shoving several people out of the way and striding up to Alcmene, that nasty grin still plastered on his face. "Now, aren't you something?" he asked, reaching out to grip her jaw and yank her head up so her eyes met his, "Fit for a god, you are. You'll do, oh yes, you will. You be a good girl, and you get to go home, get it, Beautiful? Unless," he chuckled," I decide to keep you, that is."

She spat in his face.

Alcmene knew it was a mistake even as she did it. It had been pure gut instinct spurred by her revulsion at his touch, his nearness.

Iolaus felt his insides go cold as the thug jerked back, rage washing over his coarse features.

The raider lashed out, and Alcmene gasped, hand flying to her cheek and the red splotch that would turn into an ugly, purple bruise before nightfall. Yanking Alcmene brutally tight to his chest, he snarled, "You're still beautiful, and I'll be enjoying every inch of that beautiful body soon!"

He grinned nastily once more, but not at her. For, in pulling Alcmene away from the wall, he had exposed the terrified children hidden in her skirts.

"Hold this!" he spat, slinging Alcmene into the arms of another raider, and striding over to glare down at the two tiny blonde boys before him.

"A couple of fine sons you have here, Beautiful," he commented, leering down at them. If he noticed that one of the boys was a bit too thin and a bit too dirty, he didn't make any comment. Instead, he went on, "Now, what kind of example are you setting these fine young lads, being so rude when I'm just being friendly? I think all you people need a lesson in manners!"

"Bad man!" Herckie spat up into that leering face, startling both the thug and Iolaus.

"Kid's got a smart mouth. Takes after his mother," the thug chuckled coldly, his tone making Iolaus' skin crawl. With a child's intuition, he could tell something very bad was going to happen next. All Iolaus wanted to do was run away, or melt into the safety of the shadows; but he didn't want to leave Herckie all alone.

Still chuckling mirthlessly, the raider reached down towards Herckie, and Iolaus pushed in front of the toddler, suddenly too afraid for the baby to be afraid for himself.

"Leave him alone, you bully!" he growled, with all the anger his not-quite four-foot frame could muster.

"Bad, bad man!" Herckie chimed in from behind Iolaus' back.

"Oh, look at the brave little warrior!" the villain sneered. Grabbing Iolaus by the tunic-front and jerking him forward, his gaze flickered to Alcmene as he added sarcastically, "You must be so proud!"

"She's got a damn sight more to be proud of than your mother, that's for sure," a male voice close by sneered, but nobody seemed to take any notice of the comment.

Across the street, unbound and forgotten by the raiders, Skouros slowly regained his senses, warrior skills ingrained since early childhood warning him to stifle his groan of pain. Cracking his eyelids open just a trifle, he peered though a small gap in the crowd that gave him a clear view of the lead marauder-and Iolaus.

Skouros felt the faintest stirrings of what might have been pride at the sight of his obviously terrified child stepping forward to protect the strange baby whose hand he clutched. Anyone who had ever made the mistake in believing that Skouros felt no love for his children would have known the truth if they could have felt the ice that gripped his warrior's heart as the towering thug sneered down at tow-haired boy and reached out threateningly.

"No!" Skouros croaked, trying to push himself upright, only to be firmly pushed down by the blacksmith's wife, a warning finger pressed against his lips. She caught his and shook her head once, firmly, before cutting her eyes to her husband. Skouros followed her gaze to see the raider who had bound the blacksmith standing just in front of them, taking in the scene with a look of utter disgust, one hand resting upon the hilt of his sword.

Dreevna, the blacksmith wife bent to whisper in Skouros' ear, "Move, and he'll take off your head. Wait."

Skouros gritted his teeth, and nodded once, sharply.

The leader of the marauders grinned evilly. "Do you think your mother's proud of you, boy?" he asked, but he gave the boy no time to answer or to correct his mis-assumption. Instead, he straightened, leered at Alcmene and growled, "But it's always the baby of the family who holds his mother's heart, isn't it, Beautiful?"

Alcmene's eyes widened and she lunged forward, trying desperately to break free of the raider who held her arms. "Leave my baby alone, please!" she pleaded frantically.

In reply, the thug suddenly slung Iolaus away from him, so the boy stumbled and sprawled on his rear in the dust of the street. Turning back to the toddler, the thug snarled, "The baby will pay for your smart mouth, witch!"

"No!" Alcmene begged.

"There are idiots, and then there are total idiots," the man who had spoken before commented casually, but, again, nobody seemed to notice, though Skouros twitched.

The woman standing next to him nibbled at her nail worriedly. "Shouldn't we be doing something?" she asked.

"Wait," the man advised, echoing the blacksmith's mate.

The marauder leader snatched Herckie up by his tunic, hoisting him into the air easily with one meaty hand. "You're young, Beautiful, you can have more. Maybe this will help you to remember your manners!" he snarled, flinging Herckie skyward and un-sheathing his sword in a single motion.

"You are so dead," the man in the crowd announced, not that anyone paid attention. Everyone was staring skyward in horrified fascination as the golden-haired baby hung suspended in mid-air for a terrible, timeless second, as though cradled by invisible arms.

"No!" Alcmene, Iolaus, and Skouros all screamed in unison, Alcmene and Skouros in horrible knowledge; Iolaus in instinctive fear.

And then all hell broke loose.

"Morons!' snarled the stranger in the crowd, even as Herckie started to tumble earthward. A sweetly perfumed breeze sprang from nowhere to catch him and lower him gently down, depositing him into Iolaus' outstretched arms.

"That's better, now isn't it?" a woman's voice giggled into the startled blonde's ear. Iolaus jerked, whirling, but no woman stood behind him. He blinked, confused, distracted from the events around him.

"What the-?!" the raider leader snarled, taking a step towards Iolaus only to be frozen in his tracks by the bolt of lightning that flashed down from the clear sky to connect with the tip of his sword.

He didn't have time to scream, as he was flash-fried in an instant, tumbling facedown into the dusty street at Alcmene's feet.

Skouros, knowing an excellent distraction when he saw one, acted almost instantly, leaping to his feet and striking the marauder who had recognized him in the back of the skull with the hilt of his sword. In the same instant, Dreevna, the blacksmith's wife sprang forward, brandishing her wounded husband's sword and abruptly reminding several of the villagers that she had formerly been an Amazon warrior.

Forgotten in the resulting commotion and fighting, the marauder leader groaned softly as a swift, vicious kick connected with his ribs.

"What do you know? You're not dead. The old man must be slipping," the sarcastic stranger muttered, hands on his hips, head tilted as he contemplated how to make a chaotic scene even worse. There was nothing he loved more than a really good commotion, and he was just starting to have fun.

Iolaus, barely able to hold Herckie up, gazed around frantically, bewildered by the chaos that had erupted around them. They were surrounded by a sea of snarling marauders and villagers who were either fighting for their lives or running for them, all adults far too busy with other matters to pay much attention to two very little boys in immediate danger of being trampled underfoot.

Herckie's very young mind had finally caught up with its surroundings. "Pweddy!" he cried happily, not caring a bit about the fighting.

Iolaus squeaked in reply as a very big marauder, bigger, even, than Devos, the village blacksmith, staggered backwards towards them, arms flailing as he tried vainly to regain his balance. Unseen by the boys, he had just been struck right between the eyes by a well-placed stone from Cairo's slingshot. The baker's daughter crowed, reached down for another rock, and aimed at another marauder. From her vantage point under the rug-merchant's display-table, she could see a good deal of the fighting while being protected from most of it by the heavy rugs. Catching a clear shot at one of the rampaging horsemen, she popped up, let loose, and had dropped back below the table before the horseman, eyes crossed, fell off his mount.

Meanwhile, Iolaus stared, petrified, as their joint doom staggered towards them, totally unaware of their existence.

"Oh-oh," the invisible woman murmured, and the boy felt warm, soft arms envelope him and he and Herckie were lifted, sailing to the safety of the alleyway yards away, the same alley where they had shared a tart only moments earlier.

"Mamma?" Herckie asked, gazing with wide-eyed confusion over Iolaus' shoulder; but when the other boy twisted his neck around he still didn't see anything except the empty alley. "Pweddy Mamma?"

"Ooohhh, you're such a couple of little cuties!" the invisible woman gushed; and Iolaus felt himself enveloped in a quick, warm hug.

Herckie wriggled and giggled in Iolaus' arms, just as though someone were gently tickling his tummy.

The invisible woman giggled into Iolaus' ear, and the boy, rather than being afraid of this oddity, found himself giggling along, somehow sensing that this whatever wouldn't harm them.

Herckie gurgled, drool spilling once more down his chin as he gazed adoringly upwards, at either Iolaus, or the woman Iolaus couldn't see.

"Oopsie! Better wipe-I don't do drool," their invisible friend murmured, and Iolaus obediently wiped Herckie's chin with the hem of Herckie's tunic.

"There. He's all clean, now," Iolaus said smiling at thin air.

Before the invisible woman could make a reply, the air was split with a high-pitched scream, followed by a gruff male voice using words Iolaus had only ever heard his father use before.

Crushed and jostled by the rampaging crowd around her, Alcmene had been trying to make her way to where she had last seen her baby boy and his new friend. She had finally thrown lady-like politeness to the wind and started shoving and elbowing her way through the fighting, only to find herself abruptly airborne as a passing mounted raider snatched her arm and yanked her off her feet, causing her to scream in surprise. Grabbing her robes by the waist, he pulled her up, over the front of his saddle.

"Dammit, I'm not leaving here without something, so shut up already!" he snarled.

Alcmene was not having a very good day as it was, and this was the final straw. She twisted, and sank her teeth into his forearm.

"Girl's a fighter after all, huh? Dad always did like 'em spunky," the sardonic man said to nobody in particular as he watched the exchange. His dark brow rose at the language that spilled out of the raider in response to Alcmene's defensive maneuver.

"That's a new one," he whistled, filing it away for possible future use.

Still cursing a blue streak, the raider shoved Alcmene away, sending her tumbling into the fighting.

"Can't have that," the dark man murmured, and Alcmene, like Iolaus, found herself engulfed in invisible arms, strong, muscular ones that whisked her across the street and deposited her next to the rug merchant's display table in an instant.

"Down here, ma'm!" Cairo gasped, popping up to grab Alcmene's wrist and pull her down under the table.

The rug merchant, a gentle man without a trace of warrior in him, smiled sheepishly from Cairo's other side.

"Cairo, have you seen where Hercules and that other little boy went?" Alcmene asked breathlessly, still vaguely wondering just how she had gotten from there to here, but there were more important things to occupy her mind right now, and she couldn't be bothered to dwell on the strangeness of what had just happened.

"They're in the alley!" the rug merchant gasped, leaning towards Alcmene to be heard over the shouting around them. Cairo squirmed from between them and knelt at the edge of the table, bright dark eyes scanning the fighting for another opening.

"I saw them myself! They just...just flew in there, like they were being lifted by the wind itself!" The merchant eyed Alcmene, obviously awaiting an explanation.

Alcmene didn't have one, so she brushed the matter aside to concentrate on the important part of his statement. "Hercules is safe?" she pressed him eagerly.

Aleos the rug merchant nodded. "He should be. Nobody's going anywhere near the alley, which is a little strange, considering," he replied, scooting forward a few inches and gingerly lifting the corner of one of the overhanging rugs to point straight across the street.

Eagerly, Alcmene crawled over to him and peered though the legs of the milling crowd of people and horses. Sure enough, there through the cloud of dust she caught a glimpse of her beloved little Herckie, still being cradled in the thin arms of the skinny, grubby little boy with the dirty blonde curls who sat with his back tight against the alley wall, blue eyes wide as he watched the chaos in the street.

'Doesn't that boy's mother ever give him a bath?' she wondered with a sliver of her mind which was pre-occupied with the nearly overwhelming maternal urge to take the boy home and scrub and feed him, while the main part felt a surge of relief. Aleos was right-for all the staggering and running and shoving going on, everybody out there was acting like the alley didn't even exist. Another bit of high strangeness on a day chock full of oddities. Alcmene frankly didn't care why the fighting wasn't spilling into the alley, she was just profoundly grateful it wasn't.

So, it appeared that her youngest was just fine for the moment right where he was.

Herckie was, despite the fighting and bloodshed going on only feet away, a very happy baby. 'Pweddy' was back; and he was being held and tickled and loved. What more could he possibly want?

"Pweddy," he cooed lovingly, squirming in Iolaus' grip. The older boy had sunk down onto his bottom, so he loosened his hold enough for Herckie to stand without letting go of him entirely. Herckie, for his part, was back to being entranced with Iolaus' curls, patting them happily, and rubbing his cheek on the top of Iolaus' head, making the other boy giggle, too.

Their self-appointed protectoress smiled, basking in the mutual love emanating from them. Children could love so selflessly and so totally; they were her favorites of all mortals.

Meanwhile, the dark-haired man stood stock-still in the middle of the uproar outside the alley, stroking his carefully trimmed beard thoughtfully. "Something seems to be missing," he murmured, eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Mind the damned horses!" Skouros shouted to Dreevna, in time for the one-time Amazon to duck as one of the war-horses tried to sink its teeth into her sword arm. "They're trained to bite!" he explained, a trifle unnecessarily. He was a bit distracted, trying to fight while scanning the street for some sign of his son. He couldn't see the boy anywhere, the alley being several yards away from his position, and he was starting to get a little worried. He was even, if he was honest with himself, a bit concerned about that baby girl of Alcmene's that Iolaus had been with. He had his problems with the Widow, but the baby was, after all, an innocent.

A truly evil grin bloomed on the dark man's lips. "Ah, the horses! Thank you, Skouros," he murmured.

A second alter, the nearest war-horse reared suddenly, hooves flashing, eyes rolling frantically as it whinnied in terror.

"What the--Get down!" the horses mount bellowed, but the big beast wasn't paying him any mind at all. Right now, there was someone much more important demanding it's attention.

"Get out of here, you sorry sack of bones!" the dark man snarled- or, at least what had been the dark man a moment earlier. Now it was a clanking, horned monstrosity that towered threateningly over the panicked war-horse. The horse had been trained to deal with armoured warriors, not demons from the pits of Tartarus. Then the demon slapped its flank, hard, with its open palm.

The horse did the only logical thing it could think of in its current state-it bolted, its rider tumbling helplessly from the saddle as his mount's fore hooves hit the ground hard and it shot off at a dead gallop.

All up and down the street, the normally unflappable war-horses were going berserk; snapping at anyone near them, including their own riders; rearing and pawing the air frantically with their iron-shod hooves; and bucking, haunches going high in the air as their screaming riders flew forward over their necks. The raiders were cursing and yanking hard on the reins, vainly trying to bring the huge beasts under control, while the villagers scattered, avoiding flying hooves and walls of panicked horse-flesh that showed every inclination to thunder right over anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way.

"Whoa!" Iolaus whistled, this latest addition to the all-around commotion drawing his attention back to the fray.

Herckie crooned and plopped down on Iolaus' lap, snuggling happily against his chest and yawning.

"Horsies," he observed sleepily as a huge bay shook the ground only inches away from their alley-way hiding-place as it bolted past, neighing wildly like all the demons in Tartarus were hot on its tail.

"Horsies," Iolaus agreed, wide-eyed. He had never seen horses behave like this, so different from the sleepy, amiable local farm animals he was used to.

"Horsies go bye-bye," Herckie yawned, and waved one pudgy little hand as another thundered past, this one a dappled gray, "Bye-bye, horsies!"

"Horsies go bye-bye," Iolaus nodded.

"Bad man go bye-bye?" Herckie asked, peering through the dust. He blinked, then craned his head upwards.

Iolaus looked up, too, but there was nothing there but more dust.

"Bad man in no condition to go anywhere, junior," a deep voice chuckled overhead, and Iolaus gaped.

"What are you lookin' at, kid?" the deep voice asked sarcastically.

"Nobody, sir," Iolaus whispered, suddenly hugging Herckie tight as a prickle of danger-warning raced down his back.

"Mamma!" Herckie shrieked joyfully, frantically squirming out of Iolaus' embrace and toddling out of the alley at high speed.

"Herckie, no!" Iolaus gasped, scrambling to his feet and bolting after him, forgetting the strange, disembodied voices for the moment.

But he was panicking for nothing. The war-horses had all fled, some dragging their screaming, cursing riders with them. Other raiders, left behind, most unconscious, were being efficiently bound by a group of villagers under Dreevna's directions, even as she knelt next to her wounded husband, softly scolding him for fighting with an open wound as Alcmene wound torn strips of her own skirt around his ribs in a temporary bandage. The leader was sitting up, hands being bound behind his scorched back by Cairo, her slingshot tucked into the waistband of her skirt. For her part, she was amazed he had even survived being struck by lightning. At least it had improved his language, since all he seemed capable of was soft moans of confused pain.

Alcmene looked up and smiled radiantly as Herckie ran into her out-stretched arms, nearly bowling her right over in the process.

"Momma!" Herckie sighed happily, hugging her tightly. Smiling, and nodding to Dreevna, Alcmene stood, slipping one arm under Herckie's plump little bottom to support him.

"There, there, Sweetie, everything's all right now," she crooned, smoothing his hair lovingly, oblivious to her own bruised and tattered appearance.

Iolaus skidded to a halt, taking in the re-union scene and suddenly feeling acutely out-of-place. Herckie had obviously forgotten all about him now that he had found his mother.

Swallowing the lump in his throat and wondering why he suddenly felt so abandoned, he turned to scan the still crowded and dusty street in search of his father.

Cairo, having finished tying up the leader of the marauders, was searching the milling crowd for her own father when she spotted Iolaus' forlorn little figure. Seized with a sudden inspiration, she hurried into the bakeshop. As she feared, the tray of tarts that she had placed by the door had fallen victim to a raider who had been thrown from his mount to land face-first into the pastries. But the second tray that her father had fetched for Alcmene had survived, in pristine condition, on the counter. She emptied the lot into one of the large, soft linen clothes her father wrapped large loaves of bread in and hurried back into the street.

"Iolaus!" she called, and when he turned and looked at her with frightened eyes, she responded with a re-assuring smile.

"Here. For being so brave today," she said, thrusting the cloth full of tarts into his hands.

Curiously, he peered inside, then looked up disbelievingly. "For me?" he asked softly, not willing to believe this unexpected bounty.

"For you," she insisted, "Go ahead and eat one."

Tentatively, the little blonde pulled one tart out, and took the barest nibble, smiling shyly at Cairo all the while.

And then he was struck from behind with something that felt like a charging war-horse. Instinctively, he tucked and rolled, bowled off his feet by whatever had hit him. He ended up dazed and flat on his back, a warm weight on his stomach.

"Pweddy," the weight crooned in his ear, and then something warm and wet brushed against his cheek, "Pweddy yummy!" the weight announced with a happy gurgle.

"That doesn't mean you should lick him, Hercules!" Alcmene fussed fondly, a low laugh in the back of her throat as she lifted her young son off Iolaus' stomach and set him on his feet.

Iolaus blinked dust out of eyes, feeling oddly happy. Herckie hadn't forgotten after all!

Alcmene helped him to his feet and knelt to look in his face. "Look at you!" she fussed, smoothing his wild bangs back from his face. The little boy in front of her had just had a large smear of berry added to the dust and grit on his face, courtesy of her baby's enthusiastic greeting. She glanced around, but the nearest water-trough was several yards away, so she resorted to the standby of mothers everywhere- the 'spit wash'.

Iolaus took her administrations good-naturedly, even tolerating Cairo's giggles. Smiling shyly at Alcmene, he said softly, "Hi?"

Alcmene smiled back, charmed by the shy grin. She had seen this little boy with the perpetually tangled curls around the market occasionally, peering hopefully at the other children with big blue eyes, but she had seldom seen him smile. 'He should smile more often,' she thought, 'It's his best feature.' Aloud, she said, "I'd like to thank you for watching out for Hercules."

"You're welcome, Ma'm,' he murmured politely.

"You were very, very brave,...er..." she trailed off uncertainly.

"This is Iolaus, Ma'm," Cairo offered.

"Iolaus?!" Alcmene whispered, eyes widening as her mind raced back to another afternoon, when she had met a blonde stranger sent by the gods themselves to save her unborn babe.

Iolaus felt his heart sink at her reaction, sure that she had heard of his occasional tart snitchings and wouldn't let him play with Herckie ever again. Suddenly, he felt very lonely indeed.

Then Alcmene wrapped him in a grateful hug, whispering fiercely in his ears, "Thank you, Iolaus, for saving my son again!"

Iolaus snuggled happily into Alcmene's arms, thoroughly enjoying the hug. The comment about saving Herckie 'again' was odd, but Iolaus brushed it aside. He was just happy that this nice lady wasn't angry at him, or didn't think he was 'only a common thief' like some of the other village women.

"Herckie, those are Iolaus'!" Cairo scolded, and Alcmene reluctantly released this thin little boy so hungry for affection, to check what her son was doing.

Herckie had squatted down next to the cloth Iolaus had dropped when the toddler tackled him. The baby had managed to get one pudgy hand into one of the openings around the knot Cairo had tied, had pulled out a somewhat squashed tart and was now happily enjoying his prize, berry preserves leaking out over both fat little hands. Cairo had picked up the cloth, and was shaking a finger at Herckie, trying not to laugh.

"Yummy!" Herckie explained, his mouth smeared with the red sweet berry juice. Straightening, he toddled over and offered the remains of the tart to Iolaus. "Pweddy wan'?" he asked sweetly.

"Hercules, I don't thin-" Alcmene trailed off as, with a sweet smile of his own, Iolaus accepted the offering, opening his mouth so that her son could push the sweet in.

"Yummy," Iolaus agreed, around a mouthful of tart.

Herckie clapped his sticky hands together for joy and bounced in that way only babies and toddlers can manage. "Pweddy li'?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks," Iolaus said, smiling and licking berry off his own mouth. "You're all sticky again, Herckie," he added, taking one of the toddler's pudgy hands and wiping it with the hem of his tunic.

Herckie crowed with wordless joy and gazed adoringly at Iolaus, letting the other boy take and clean the other hand.

Alcmene shook her head in wonder at the exchange. While Hercules was a happy, friendly child, she was still faintly surprised that he had 'taken' to Iolaus so quickly. The boys had only met moment ago, and they were already treating each other like fond sibs, with little Iolaus demonstrating more patience than even Iphicles managed with his little brother.

"There, all clean," Iolaus announced, holding Herckie's hands up for Alcmene to see.

"Aww cween!" Herckie echoed happily, clapping and bouncing once more. Then he grabbed Iolaus' hand firmly and set off, tugging determinedly when Iolaus resisted.

"Hercules, what are you doing?" Alcmene asked fondly, reaching down for her son's free hand.

That round little face tilted up to look into hers. "Pweddy come!" Herckie explained happily, taking her hand and tugging, "Pweddy come!"

"Herckie, we found your Mom," Iolaus giggled, digging his heels in and pulling backwards. Cairos' eyes widened slightly as she realized that he was still going forward, heels leaving shallow drag marks in the dust.

"Oh, dear," Alcmene murmured, sliding in front of Hercules and stopping him with gentle restraint. Dropping on one knee to be at eye level with the toddler, she told him gently, "Hercules, Iolaus can't come home with us. He has to go home with his father."

This was not news Herckie wanted to hear. "Pweddy come!" he repeated stubbornly, trying to squirm past his mother, fingers still tight around Iolaus' hand, "Wan' pweddy come!"

"Herckie, your mom's right...I guess..." Iolaus trailed off, wistfully wishing he could come home with Herckie and his mom, if only for a little while. It wasn't that he thought his own home was so bad-after all, it was the only home he had ever known-it was that he just liked being with Hercules and Alcmene.

Herckie wasn't happy with this. "Pweddy no wan come?" he asked, lower lip trembling dangerously again.

"Oh! I want to, but-" Iolaus didn't get a chance to finish. Hercules had heard enough.

"Pweddy come!" he cried happily, releasing his grip on Iolaus' hand so he could throw his arms affectionately around the other boy once more and plant another wet, sticky kiss on his cheek.

"IOLAUS!" Skouros bellowed, pushing through small, amused crowd that had gathered. Reaching down, he grabbed his son's arm and bodily yanked Iolaus out of Herkie's embrace.

"Skouros!" Alcmene cried, catching the startled toddler before he tumbled onto his bottom, unbalanced by the loss of Iolaus.

"You stay away from this woman and her kids, you hear me, boy?" Skouros growled, shaking the boy by his arm, hard enough to make Iolaus' teeth rattle.

Alcmene shot to her feet, Hercules cradled in her arms, her expression darkening as she witnessed this treatment. "Is that really necessary, Skouros?" she asked icily, "You son saved my baby's life, and I was simply thanking him. You don't need to act like this."

"Like hell I don't!" Skouros snarled, glaring fiercely at her, "That damned brat of yours almost got my boy killed! Watch that little bastard better next time!"

Alcmene gaped at him, as did Cairo and several of the other by-standers. A few others twittered, but nobody made a move to come between her and Skouros.

Then Alcmene did a very uncharacteristic thing, but then she had been having a very stressful day. She hauled off and slapped Skouros. "How dare you?!" she hissed, eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring.

Skouros reared back, hand raised as though to strike her in return. Then he seemed to notice the small crowd of witnesses and dropped his hand.

Iolaus and Herckie took all this in with matching wide blue eyes, bewildered by their parent's reactions.

"Amphitryon may not have been any friend of mine, but he was a damned fine warrior and he deserved better than a slut who would get herself with child while her husband lay dying on a battle field halfway across Greece!" Skouros snarled back nastily, eyes cold as they traveled slowly down her body, "Couldn't even wait until he was cold in the ground, could you?"

"You bastard!" Alcmene gasped, eyes widening in shock, "Is that what you think?! This baby is my husband's final gift to me, a gift from the Gods!"

"Yeah, sure," Skouros snorted.

Alcmene's eyes narrowed. Gritting her teeth and trying hard to control her rage, she settled for glaring at the warrior wordlessly.

"Dad?" Iolaus whispered, as scared and confused now as he had been during the bandit's attack.

Skouros ignored him, stepping towards Alcmene threateningly. Whatever he intended to do or say next was interrupted by the arrival of Cairos' father, Joseph, supporting the wounded blacksmith.

Devos, the blacksmith, took in the scene in a glance, and laid a restraining hand firmly on the angry warrior's shoulder.

"We've all had a bad day, Skouros, and may say things we aren't meaning," he growled, the warning undertone plain in his voice, "Kevson was just looking for you; something about grain? Go take care of your family, man, and let the widow be."

Skouros looked at him, still obviously enraged, but he backed down at the firm expression on the blacksmith's face. Skouros had few friends in the village, and Devos was one of the few. Nodding briskly, the warrior turned on his heel and marched off without another word, dragging a stumbling Iolaus by the arm.

The little rug merchant came up then, looking flustered. "Are you all right, my lady?' he asked Alcmene softly.

"I'm fine," Alcmene snapped, then recovered and favored him with a strained smile. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped like that, Aelos."

"It's understandable, my lady. Don't worry about it," he smiled, patting her on the arm, and unconsciously making her smile and relax. Poor Aelos was as nervous and as harmless as a rabbit. He must have been truly worried about her to come forward like this at all. Alcmene had the sudden urge to console him.

Iolaus, stumbling alongside his father, risked a wistful backwards glance. There was a small cluster of villagers, mostly men, around the widow, but they were standing far enough apart that he could see Herckie gazing after him.

"Bye-bye, Herckie," he whispered unhappily, giving a little wave in the toddler's direction, and knowing there was no way Herckie could hear him from so far away.

But perhaps Herckie did hear him, or maybe he only saw the sad little wave.

"Bye-bye?" Herckie whispered unhappily, "Pweddy go bye-bye?" He tugged at his mother's bodice front for her attention.

Alcmene looked down, and found her son's lower lip trembling dangerously again. "Pweddy go bye-bye, Momma?" he whimpered.

"Yes, sweetheart, Iolaus had to go bye-bye," she murmured, smoothing back his bangs from his forehead.

"No wan' pweddy go bye-bye," he protested.

"Iolaus had to go home to his momma, Hercules," Alcmene explained.

"No! Pweddy come Herckie!" he objected, round little face scrunching up, eyes narrowing.

Alcmene felt her own eyes widen with shock. Hercules was a happy baby who seldom cried, and he had never, never had a temper tantrum in his whole short life, but Alcmene knew the signs of a real screamer coming on all too well, thanks to Iphicles.

Trying to nip it in the bud, she reached down into the market basket the little rug merchant had just brought back to her and brought out a tart. "Look, Hercules, a yummy," she coaxed, bringing the pastry up to that twisted little mouth, "You like yummies. Don't you want the yummy?"

"NO!" Hercules shrieked, cutting loose at top volume, "NO WAN" YUMMY! WAN' PWEDDY!" He batted the tart out of Alcmene's hand and lunged forward in her arms, trying to squirm free to go after Iolaus.

"HERKIE WA" DOWN!" he wailed, as Iolaus, still being dragged along by Skouros, vanished around the corner of the grain-seller's warehouse, "WAN' PWEDDY!"

"Good gods, that boy has a set of lungs on him!" the blacksmith groaned as Joseph lowered him onto the bench outside the bakeshop door, put there for weary shoppers. Dreevna strode over, favored her beloved husband with the fierce Amazon glare that had quelled warriors twice her size, and fussed, "Now you sit right there until the healer can tend to that wound!"

"There are others need the healer more, wife," Devos protested.

"Maybe so, but you need him too. Joseph, do me a favor and sit on him if you have too, please? I've promised to help set things aright." She gestured broadly around them, at the carnage left behind from the short raid. Everywhere there were shaken, tattered villagers righting over-turned market tables, gathering up scattered merchandise and produce, or scanning the crowd for members of their own families. Others were shoving bound raiders before them, gathering them for delivery to the nearest magistrate, while still others tended the wounded or carried away the dead. It looked like the after-math of a battle; which, in some ways, was exactly what it was.

Alcmene, meanwhile, was trying to quiet Hercules to no avail. The toddler screamed and squirmed and kicked, trying to break free of his mother's gently restraining arms and run after Iolaus. "Wannnn' pwweeddyyy!" he sobbed repeatedly, ignoring all her attempts to comfort him.

"I'd better take Hercules home and put him down for a nap," she told Aelos, taking her market basket from him with a wan smile and hurrying away in the opposite direction from the Skouros had taken. Hercules' wails increased in volume as he realized he was getting further and further away from his 'pweddy', interspaced with his mother's calming coos.

"Little one didn't want to give up his new toy, heh?" Joseph said, sinking gratefully onto the bench next to Devos. Joseph was no fighter, but several of the raiders had recently learned to their regret that he could wield a mean skillet if necessary.

"Poor little thing. Too bad Skouros wouldn't let him go with milady," Aelos commented, bringing Devos a dipper of water from the village well.

"Eh? You mean Skouros' boy, Iolaus? You don't think Alcmene would really take the boy in, do you?" Joseph asked.

Aelos carefully lowered himself in the space between his friends. Being smallish, he fitted quite nicely.

"Yes, I think she would indeed, without a second's thought," he said, nodding.

Cairo approached the group just then, and sadly held out the bundle of tarts she had given Iolaus. "Father, Iolaus dropped these when his father...came for him," she said "What should I do with them?"

"Aelos, have you a basket you can spare?" the baker asked the rug merchant, who nodded affirmatively.

"Cairo, go over to Aelo's, fetch the basket, bring it back here and fill it with as much as it will hold. Then take it and the tarts there to Skouro's place. Man has no concept how much food small children need, and that poor wife of his will be grateful for any she can get extra. While you're there, tell her she owes nothing for the bread I let her have last week. If Skouros is there, tell him it's for the services he did all of us here today. Truly, we all owe him." Nodding, Cairo smiled and hurried off after the basket.

"Your own was no less brave today," Devos noted, grinning.

Aelos agreed, adding, "Where could she have learned to shoot a slingshot like that? She was amazing!"

"My lovely lady's fault, I fear. Dreevna's been teaching some the village girls Amazon fighting tactics," Devos grinned, chuckling.

"More power to her," Joseph said, "Now, Aelos, what makes you think the widow Alcmene would take in another child? She's got two of her own to take care of and raise alone now."

Aelos looked around quickly and nervously, once more reminding his friends of a shy little rabbit. Then, voice dropping to just above a whisper, he explained.

"You know Amphitryon frequently would come and buy little gifts for milady?" he asked them. The baker and the blacksmith nodded. "Well, one evening about three years back, Amphitryon was picking out some sort of little frivolous pretty when Skouros comes staggering in, obviously in his cups..."

"Drunk again, you mean," Joseph snorted.

"Drunk," Aelos agreed, "Seems he had just seen his son for the first time, having been away on one of his 'campaigns' when the boy was born..."

"So what else is new?" Joseph growled, "Man's never home when that poor wife of his is in her childbed."

"Joseph, he's a professional warrior. Can't fight wars and be home too," Devos said with surprising mildness.

"Whatever," Joseph grunted.

Aelos took up his story, "So, Skouros is staggering around, about to break all my lovely fineries, and he's complaining to Amphitryon about how 'scrawny' his baby boy is. All he wanted was a healthy son, he keeps saying, and all he gets is one girl after another, and then when he finally does get a boy, it's a 'sickly little runt' who most likely won't live to manhood."

Twin sharp intakes from the other men on the bench. "You're kidding!" Joseph growled, "He said that about his own flesh and blood?"

Aelos nodded. "And then..." he drew it out for a moment, knowing he had his audience, "Amphitryon snapped. Rounded on him and right then and there offered to take Skouros' family if Skouros didn't want them."

"What?" Devos asked, frowning, "Are you sure you heard right, man?"

"Oh, no mistaking that. Milady and her husband always wanted a large family, but after Iphicles the gods didn't see fit to gift them with any more children, no matter how they tried or whom they made offerings to. I guess Amphitryon just couldn't understand how someone who had what he, himself, wanted, could be so unappreciative of his good fortune. I swear, his lordship stood right there and said, "If you don't want the boy I'll take him, and the girls too. Your wife as well; she can live as a sister to my Alcmene and 4 will be free to marry again and start over. What about it, Skouros?"

"Is that allowed?" Joseph asked, frowning.

"Yes, under Greek law. Didn't you know that? As long as someone is willing to take over the support of his wife and children, a man can just walk away from the marriage and he's free to marry again. Skouros didn't take him up on the offer, of course; but I think he was tempted."

The baker shook his head. "I've never heard such a thing. Why would anyone do it?"

Aelos shrugged. "No boys, no heirs. So..."

"Girls are just as precious as boys!" the baker replied.

"Ah, but you don't think like a Greek. Many Greek men hate the thought of no male children, no matter if they have a dozen beautiful daughters," Devos said with a sigh, "Sometimes I think many of my kinsmen are a little cracked on that point."

"Less that, though, with Skouros, I think," Aelos said thoughtfully, "Even though that's what he's always saying. I suspect Skouros should never have gotten married at all. I don't think he's suited for a family."

"Have to agree with you there," Devos sighed.

"Still, why get so upset with the boys playing together?" Joseph asked, "Does he hold Amphitryon's offer against Alcmene, or was that just because of the raider shoving little Iolaus around like that?"

Davos chuckled ruefully. "I suspect I might be a bit to blame there," he admitted, "Aelos wasn't the only one Skouros has been bitchin' to. I figured I'd heard enough fussin' and cussin' about how healthy and hearty Iphicles was compared to his Iolaus, so when he asked me what this new baby was, I told him it was a girl just to shut him up."

Joseph grinned. "You didn't?"

"Oh, yeah, I did. Hell, everybody knows Alcmene was hoping for a girl this time, so he fell for it. Saved my ears some, I tell you. But you know how Skouros is about boys and girls playing together. Comes from that Spartan upbringing of his, I guess." The blacksmith rolled his eyes skywards. "That boy of Skouros' is just a touch small, is all. He's perfectly healthy, and will grow up into a perfectly fine warrior is he doesn't starve to death first."

The group all nodded in agreement, and the gossip moved on to other things until the healer came to bind Devos' wound.

In Ares' temple on Mt Olympus, a small celebration of sorts was going on.

"Yes!" Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, cheered, high-fiving her older brother Ares, who smiled indulgently at her enthusiasm.

"Thanks, kids," Zeus said in his gravelly voice as he adjusted his royal robes, "That was close one." He shuddered slightly.

"Anytime, Daddy," 'Dite offered cheerfully, hugging her father, who patted her shoulder.

"You did good, kids. Both of you," Zeus acknowledged, pride radiating from his craggy face.

"We did it all wrong," Ares growled. He flopped on his throne, flung one leg over the arm, and steepled his fingers, frowning thoughtfully.

"Bro, how can you say that?" 'Dite protested, sashaying over to stand in front of him. Arms wide, she added, "We got rid of the nasties AND little Herckie didn't get so much as a scratch on him!"

"They'll just come back. That kind always does, I should know." Ares shook his head. "What the mortals saw down there was a series of freak accidents. What they should have seen was the intervention of the Gods. You know how mortals love to explain things away." Cocking an eyebrow at his father, he added, "If you want to keep junior down there safe, it's got to get around that Thebes is a no-raid zone. Period."

"No, no," Zeus muttered, shaking his head, "That would attract the wrong kind of attention. We've got to go about this quietly, so the other Gods don't notice."

"Phu-leeze!" Ares scowled, "Don't you think you're giving Mom way too much credit? I doubt she even gives a good damn anymore. He's hardly the first, you know."

Zeus just pulled himself up to his full height, a scowl of his own replacing the look of pride he had worn only moments earlier, and glared at his eldest.

"I am not discussing this, Ares!" he snapped, and vanished without a further word.

"Bro, do you really think they might come back?" 'Dite worried, passing her hand over one of the braziers. It burst into flame, sending up a cloud of soft, white smoke. An image of the main street of Thebes formed in the smoke as she watched.

"If not them, others like them," Ares muttered distractedly, "Many of them come under my providence, being ex-warriors, but they do me no honor, believe me. Still, I know how they think, and Thebes is a nice, prosperous little place, good raiding material. Sis, does Dad have two down there?"

"Hmmm?' 'Dite murmured, trailing her fingers through the smoke. The image wavered, and turned into one of a scruffy, bored little boy with a tangle of dirty blonde curls who sat drumming his heels against the bench in front of the grain-merchant's, mouth turned down sadly as he watched the villagers around him.

"Dad. does he have two?"

"No, why?" 'Dite turned her attention to her brother, peering at him curiously.

"That one, the one with mini-Zeus. I think he heard me."

'Dite blinked, eyes widening. "Oh," she said softly, as though just remembering something important, "I think, maybe, he heard me, too!"

Brother and sister stared at each other for a long moment, then they both swung to look at the image in the smoke.

"What the he--?" Ares growled, only to have a loud rumble interrupt him.

"APHRODITE!" Hera's voice boomed through the temple as the gentle Goddess of Love clapped her hands over her ears, "WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THEBES?!" Hera demanded, peacock eyes manifesting over their heads.

"Gods, woman, tone it down!" Ares demanded right back, jumping to his feet.

"Do NOT use that tone with ME, Ares," Hera snarled, but at a lower volume. "Well, answer me, Aphrodite. What were you doing in Thebes?"

Aphrodite gulped. She didn't get along with her step-mother. Truth to tell, Hera scared the living daylights out of the gentle love goddess.

But 'Dite was her brother's sister, and she proceeded to prove just that.

"Business," she bluffed, gazing up at those huge peacock eyes innocently, "I have a Chosen there."

Hera huffed, "Who? Show me."

"There!" 'Dite exclaimed triumphantly, pointing at the image of Iolaus.

"Do not try to deceive me, Aphrodite," Hera snorted, "You have many beautiful children dedicated into your service every year. What use could you possibly have of that?"

"Hey!" 'Dite protested, indignantly, "I think he's a cutie! Those eyes, those curls...I'm going to...to... make him a Legendary Lover!"

Ares snorted, choking back a bark of laughter.

"You always did like lost causes," Hera grumbled, "You will have your work cut out for you with this one. At least it may keep you too busy to be sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong." And with that she was gone, as abruptly as she had arrived.

"Horse-face!" 'Dite said defiantly- but not too loudly, sticking her tongue out towards the temple ceiling.

"You couldn't have thought up a better lie?" Ares asked, grinning.

"Not a lie," Aphrodite rejoined defensively, "He really is one of mine. His mother dedicated all her children to me at their births."

"Bet his father doesn't know that," Ares snorted, "So that little mouse of a wife of his has some spunk after all. Here I thought they were a total mis-match."

Aphrodite sighed, but didn't answer. Instead, she turned her attention back to the image of Iolaus, gazing into the smoke thoughtfully. "Lots of raw material there..." she murmured, then tilted her head to the side.

"Oops, bro, gotta go! Business call!" She vanished, leaving a thoughtful Ares behind. Frowning, he swished a hand through the billowing smoke, and Iolaus was replaced with an image of a still-crying Hercules, lying in his over-sized cradle. Alcmene bent over it, rocking, and crooning gently.

"Wan' pweddy!" Hercules was whimpering, "Mamma, wan' pweddy, pwease?"

Ares gazed at the scene for a moment, then he sighed.

"Good luck, kid," he muttered, shaking his head, "Hope you get your 'pretty', 'cause you're gonna need all the help you can get. I wouldn't bank on Big Daddy Zeus being around in the future. First pretty face he sees, he's gonna forget all about you and that lovely mother of yours. He always does." With another sigh he dispersed the image with a wave of his hand and went off to start a war in Mesopotamia.

By the end of the day, Skouros had calmed down enough to acknowledge, at least to himself, that he was proud of the way Iolaus had stood up to the raider and protected Alcmene's baby. The fact that Cairo had not been the only one to appear at the door with food in hand had helped the grizzled warrior's humor, as had the village men who had stopped by to thank him for acting quickly and taking advantage of the distraction of the freak lightning strike and leading the counterattack against the raiders. Skouros even loosened up enough to visit Devos and Dreevna, thanking them and sharing some of the bounty brought by the grateful villagers.

But that night, as Iolaus passed him on the way to bed, Skouros stopped him.

"Boy, promise me you won't go near that little girl of Alcmene's again," he rumbled, not quite drunk yet, just pleasantly tipsy for a change, "Nothing good can come of it."

"Little girl?" Iolaus asked, bewildered and sleepy.

"The boy, too, Iphicles. Swear, Warrior's Oath."

Iolaus blinked, fuzzy thoughts clearing as he realized that his father had made the same mistake as he had about Herckie's gender.

And then Iolaus did something he had never, ever done before. He bluffed his dad.

"I swear I will never, ever, play with the Widow Alcmene's little girl," he promised, meeting his father's stern gaze with wide, innocent eyes.

Skouros nodded, accepting the promise, missing that Iolaus had deliberately left Iphicles out. With a slap on his bottom, he sent the boy to bed.

Hours later, by the soft light of the moon, Iolaus lay dreaming, sandwiched warmly between his younger and older sisters, when the air next to the bed sparkled and Aphrodite appeared.

Bending over the bed, she took in the three identical heads of golden curls badly in need of a wash, and three adorable thin little faces. Asleep, it was nearly impossible to tell Iolaus from his sisters.

"Lots of raw material here..." she murmured, reaching down to stroke Iolaus' bangs back from his eyes, "Oh, yeah, I can work with you...and your sisters too." Smiling, she bent further down and whispered, "Iolaus, can you hear me?"

The boy stirred a little, and snuffled, burrowing further into his big sister's shoulder. "Yeah," he breathed.

"What would you like most in the world?" the goddess asked softly.

"For every night to be like tonight," he sighed.

'Dite shook her head. "No can do, Sweetcakes. I'm not the Goddess of Eternal Partying. Try again."

"For Mommy and Daddy not to yell at each other?"

The goddess bit her lip then, as a sad look crossed her normally cheerful face. "I've done all I can in that department, Pumpkin. She wanted a handsome warrior; he wanted a wife and children. I thought they'd be a perfect match. Who knew?" She sighed. "One last try, Cupcake?"

Iolaus dreamed, remembering warm hugs and wet, sticky kisses. "Can I be friends with Herckie?" he asked wistfully.

"Yes!" 'Dite hissed, and caught herself before she woke the children. "Yes, Sweetheart, you can," she continued more quietly, "Just give me some time, okay, tiny Curly?" 'After all,' she thought, 'I am the Goddess of Love, and who is Skouros, anyway, to try to come between two souls so obviously meant for each other?'

"So you just sleep, now, Sweetie, and let 'Dite worry about the details. That's a done deal, promise."

"Ohh-kayy," Iolaus sighed, and drifted into a deep sleep filled with sweet dreams.

Smiling and quite pleased with herself, Aphrodite dissolved into a cloud of pink hearts.

On the other side of Thebes, Alcmene had fallen into an exhausted doze as she rocked her baby's cradle. She had been trying to coax Hercules to sleep for hours, even resorting to rocking him in the huge Spartan shield her husband had brought home once as a toy for Iphicles. Even though Herckie loved playing 'boat' with Iphicles in the shield, it had failed to work its magic this night. Finally, she had placed him back in his cradle and rocked and rocked as he cried and cried until she dozed.

Hercules whimpered softly, feeling very put out and sorry for himself. Momma was asleep, and she wasn't paying any attention to him. And he still didn't have his 'pretty' back. He shuffled sleepily along the cradle's edge, yawning, little blue eyes trying to slide shut as he fought to stay awake. He missed his pretty so much!

Then the air dissolved into pretty pink sparkles and 'Dite appeared.

"Pweddy mama?" Herckie greeted her-and yawned in her face.

The Goddess of Love didn't take offense. "What are you doing still up, Cutie?" she asked gently, lifting him and laying him down on his back. He immediately rolled onto his tummy and pushed himself back up to his feet.

"Wan' pweddy," he said crankily. What was it with all the grown-ups, anyway? All he wanted was his pretty, and he'd happily snuggle down and go to sleep. It all made perfect sense in his young mind.

'Dite giggled. "Yep, you've got Daddy's stubborn streak, that's for sure," she murmured, putting him back down again. This time, when he tried to roll over, she restrained him with a firm but gentle hand. "Oh, no, you stay right there, Pumpkin," she cooed.

"No, sweepy, wan' pweddy," Herckie protested-and yawned again. He was so sleepy!

"I'll get you your pretty, just not tonight, alright, little Bro?" she soothed, stroking his tummy softly.

"Wuv pweddy," Herckie explained around another yawn, eyes drifting closed.

"I know, I know," she murmured. Softly, she started singing a gentle lullaby. Finally, reluctantly, he fell asleep, but Aphrodite didn't leave.

"Where did you come from, Little One?" she asked, kneeling next to the cradle to tenderly stroke his sleeping face and echoing the question of mothers since the dawn of time.

The goddess sighed, looking upon her sleeping baby brother, and wondered if she had done the right thing, or if her impulsiveness might cost them all someday.

"But Daddy said he needed a special soul, and the one I had picked out wouldn't do, and you were so beautiful and shiny," she whispered guiltily, "And I know we're not supposed to mess with the shiny souls, 'cause even Hades doesn't know where they come from, but you were so eager to come...so sweet and loving...and little Xena is doing just fine with the soul I had. You were headed right here to Thebes anyway. Were you looking for Iolaus, bro?" She could sense the love between them, like an invisible bond, stretching from one to the other. She shivered, confused and pleased all at once. She had never sensed so strong a selfless love before in ones so young, and she just knew they were destined to be together, always.

"You and Iolaus will be together again, I promise, Hercules," she crooned. And then she kissed his forehead, and faded into a cloud of pink.

Asleep in his crib, Hercules gurgled happily in his sleep and murmured, "Pweddy come."

And his mother dreamed of a blonde hero who would someday come back through time to offer his life to save her son's.

the end

The song that Aphrodite sang:

Moon Song

Zoon, zoon, cuddle and croon-
Over the crinkling sea,
The moon man flings him a silvered net
Fashioned of moonbeams three.

And some folks say when the net lies long
And the midnight hour is ripe;
The moon man fishes for some old song
That fell from a sailor's pipe.

And some folks say that he fishes the bars
Down where the dead ships lie,
Looking for lost little baby stars
That slid from the slippery sky.

And the waves roll out and the waves roll in
And the nodding night wind blows,
But why the moon man fishes the sea
Only the moon man knows.

Zoon, zoon, net of the moon
Rides on the wrinkling sea;
Bright is the fret and shining wet,
Fashioned of moonbeams three.

And some folks say when the great net gleams
And the waves are a dusky blue,
The moon man fishes for two little dreams
He lost when the world was new.

And some folks say in the late night hours
while the long fin-shadows slide,
The moon man fishes for cold sea flowers
Under the tumbling tide.

And the waves roll out and the waves roll in
And the gray gulls dip and doze,
But why the moon man fishes the sea
Only the moon man knows.

From: Moon song, by Mildred Plew Meigs
From: Two Hundred Best Poems for Boys and Girls,
edited by Marjorie Barrows,
copyright 1938

Back to the Library

Back to the Index