Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02 (18 page)

Hercules glanced at the tables; no one, yet, was watching. "Whatever it was, Titus, she lied."

Suddenly Titus was an old man. His shoulders sagged, his chest deflated, and there was a look of defeat in his eyes that made Hercules wince.

"This," the politician said hoarsely, taking in the guests, the plaza, and the city with a slow sweeping gesture. "All I had to do was one small favor, and I could keep all this until I was ready to retire." He gave Hercules and Jocasta a one-sided, bitter smile. "And something else."

Hercules watched him closely.

Titus glanced at the sky, at the clouds gathering on the horizon. "If I didn't do it," he said softly, "she swore to murder my family. My daughter. My wife. Take them both, and then destroy the city. My . . .

curse." The bitter smile became a brief bitter laugh. "I suppose it was too much to hope for, that she would keep her word."

"From Hera, yes," Hercules said bluntly. He put a hand to his mouth, thinking fast. "She kept you in power all this time?"

"No," Jocasta answered angrily. "He's a good man, Hercules. A little wrongheaded sometimes, a little stubborn." She leaned into her husband, forcing him to put an arm around her waist. "A little behind the times every once in a while, that's all." Her tone hardened. "But he was good for Themon. Good. You can see that. All you have to do is look."

"And the rebels?" Hercules wanted to know.

This time it was her smile that was one-sided. "My idea. He didn't even know about it until this year. It was the only way we could get him to keep up sometimes."

Hercules looked at them both with near admiration. "You," he said to Titus, "couldn't stop. And you, you want him to step down."

Now her smile was genuine. "I've been packing all day. We were going to leave tomorrow night."

"We have a small place," Titus said. "Near the foothills. Quiet. No seagulls. Nobody cares who I am out there." His shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. "So what happens now?" He didn't wait for an answer.

He looked out over the plaza, at the people shifting in the stands. "Hera lied."

"That's one of her good points," Hercules said. "She's after me, Titus. That's why she had you invite Iolaus. Because she knew I'd come along. And to get to me, she'll do anything. Including destroying this city and everyone in it." He paused, shook his head. "And when she was done, she would have come after you anyway."

Flustered, Titus took a step toward the tables, stopped, and shook his head. "But we can't just stop the festival. 1 mean, all those people ... the gods will be ..." He clasped his hands and brought them to his lips.

His eyes narrowed. "You knew all this, and still you're here? Doing nothing?"

"Titus," Jocasta warned softly.

"No. This man knows, and he's not doing a damn thing but eating our food and drinking our wine and

... and..." He sputtered into silence when he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"There's a plan," Hercules said, more to Jocasta than to her husband.

"How can we help?" she asked.

"All you have to do is not get in the way."

"In the way of what?' Titus demanded, his voice breaking.

"Of the plan."

"What plan?"

"My plan."

"Which is?"

Hercules shook his head. "I can't tell you."

"He can't tell us," the man said to Jocasta.

"That's part of the plan," Hercules said, beginning to feel a little trapped. Maybe a little tap to the man's jaw would do it. Not too hard. Just enough to put him to sleep for a couple of hours.

Titus stuck his chin out.

Hercules restrained himself.

"What. Plan."

Hercules looked down at his right hand, saw the fist, and ordered it to open. When he was sure it wouldn't do anything on its own, he noticed that the guests and the people in the stands were growing restless. Quickly, then, he took Jocasta's arm and led her toward the center table, Titus stamping along behind.

"I told you," she said. "Stubborn sometimes."

"You must really love him," he said, only half seriously.

"Oh, I do. It isn't always easy, but I do."

At the table he waited until she was seated. When Titus, grumbling and swearing under his breath, joined them, Hercules instructed them to do what they always did, but not to be surprised by what happened next.

"What's going to happen next?" Titus asked in a whisper loud enough to be heard all the way to Athens.

"The plan," Hercules reminded him.

"What plan?"

The plan,
Hercules told him with an exasperated look,
that starts with you leaving Themon feet-first if
you don't stop asking me what plan.

Titus closed his mouth so tightly his lips disappeared.

Hercules nodded sharply—
good man, you get to live.

After taking his own seat and automatically picking up a piece of bread from the platter in front of him, he watched as Iolaus concentrated on Venitia, as Jocasta tried to soothe and reassure her husband, as the people in the plaza began to stamp their feet and clap their hands with impatience, as the storm continued to build darkly on the horizon.

He pushed a nervous hand back through his hair.

He felt the slow breeze that coasted up the boulevard into the makeshift amphitheater, catching the scent of salt and rain.

I'm right, he told himself; I know I'm right.

But when it happened, he knew it would happen fast.

He only hoped he was ready.

Titus Perical rose from his seat and stepped around to the front of the center table. At the top of the steps he lifted his arms, and after an intricate flourish of trumpets, the crowd rose to its feet and cheered.

Hercules glanced at Jocasta, and saw the pride on her face, and a deep melancholy that made him look away.

A look at Iolaus, however, caused him to worry. His friend's cheeks were flushed, and the way he leaned close to Venitia, Hercules was afraid the man had drunk too much wine.

The trumpets sounded again.

Iolaus leaned close. "This is it?"

Hercules nodded.

"It's about time." Iolaus lowered his voice. "This woman is driving me crazy."

"I thought you enjoyed it," Hercules said dryly.

Iolaus made a face at him—
of course I enjoyed it, you dope
—lifted his goblet, and brought it to his lips. His throat moved, his eyes half closed, but when the goblet was set back on the table, the level hadn't dropped more than a sip.

When Hercules stared, Iolaus winked.

At that moment the crowd settled into an excited murmuring as, far to the left, a procession made its way down the eight broad steps. It was, he realized, the shrine he had seen earlier in the parade. It was carried to the center of the plaza and set carefully on the ground.

A single trumpet blew a single sweet note.

Hercules swallowed hard.

The crowd took to its feet again when Titus gestured grandly, and the acolytes who had carried the shrine into the plaza returned in two rows. Between the rows were five women, all dressed alike, heads bowed, feet bare.

Venitia squeaked with delight. "Boy, I wish I were one of them."

Iolaus gave her an
are you nuts?
look.

She shrugged. "Okay, I don't. Well, I do, but not really. I mean—" She shut up and grabbed a goblet.

It was easy to spot Cire and her twin because of their red hair, walking one behind the other in the center of the line. At this distance it was impossible to tell which was which. Until one of them stumbled slightly, and Hercules knew that was Cire.

He leaned toward Jocasta. "Do they stay down there?"

She shook her head, but said nothing.

The line of women left the priestly acolytes and made a circuit around the shrine before moving to the foot of the steps. In a speech Hercules figured he delivered every year, Titus greeted them as though they were true queens, praising their beauty and impressing upon them the importance and solemnity of their office, however temporary it might be.

The crowd had fallen silent.

The speech went on, and each time Titus mentioned either Demeter or Poseidon, he made a sharp gesture with his left hand, bringing the women up one step at a time.

Hercules knew that when they reached the top, it would be time for him and Iolaus to act. What he didn't know was how Titus would get them to single out Cire.

Iolaus squirmed impatiently.

"How long does this go on?" Hercules asked Jocasta.

She sighed with a faint smile. "Forever, Hercules, forever. He's a politician, remember?"

She was right.

Even when the contestants reached the top step, Titus continued to speak. He stood in front of them now, his voice carrying easily as he recounted each woman's history and described what she had promised to bring to this solemn office should she be chosen by the heroes who had traveled all this way just for this moment.

Iolaus whispered, "Am 1 still awake?"

Hercules coughed into a fist to keep from laughing.

The crowd, however, didn't seem to mind. Cheers were offered at regular intervals; feet stomped as if on cue; ribbons and scarves were waved like flags; even those jammed into the gap where the plaza met the boulevard, and those on the nearby rooftops, found ways of signaling their approval.

Titus spoke on. Eloquently. Movingly. Interminably. Switching to describe the city's devotion to the gods who were the patrons of this occasion. Seamlessly weaving praise for them into praise for Hercules and Iolaus.

Iolaus kept squirming. "You'd think we were gods, too," he muttered, looked at Hercules, and added,

"Well, some of us, anyway. Partly, at least. Sort of."

Hercules hushed him with a look, at the same time reminding him to keep his eye on the plaza. For anything that seemed unusual.

Then he heard a curious noise behind him, checked over his shoulder, and saw one of the huge brass-paneled doors begin to swing open. He frowned. With all the councillors out here, Titus blathering out there, and the guards all in place by each pillar and ranged along each step, who would be back by the doors?

His eyes widened.

"Iolaus," he snapped, and with a polite smile for no one in particular, he eased his chair back and stood.

"What, already?" Iolaus said. He frowned at the plaza. "But I don't see—"

Hercules moved swiftly to the back of the porch, just to the left of the partially open door. Although the crowd was still noisy, he heard the distinct sound of metal softly striking metal. "Company," he whispered when Iolaus joined him, and pointed at the widening gaps between the doors.

Iolaus nodded, and rubbed his hands together.

Hercules almost grinned. Beautiful women and a fight—Iolaus was in his element, no question about it.

However, they didn't dare let the intruders loose on the porch. Chaos would result, and too many bodies.

He took a deep breath and placed his palms against the door.

Iolaus tilted his head back to measure the door's height and width, and mouthed,
It looks damn big and
heavy, Herc.

NO kidding, thought Hercules, who took another breath, braced himself, and pushed lightly so he'd know just how heavy it was.

Then, without hesitation, he shoved it.

Hard.

There were yelps of surprise and pain as the door swung shut, more cries when Hercules yanked it open again and he and Iolaus slid quickly into the gap.

The first thing Hercules saw was a half-dozen ropes dangling from the gap in the broad corridor's ceiling.

The second thing he saw was three men sprawled on the floor, fumbling for their weapons.

The third thing was Rotus, halfway down one of the ropes, gaping in astonishment as Iolaus, wasting no time, waded into the rebels with the flat of his sword, and a fist.

There was no time for anything fancy. One rebel sagged when the fist caught his chin. Another dropped when the sword smacked him across the cheek, laying open skin even as the rebel collapsed. A third Iolaus clipped under the jaw with the heel of his boot.

Trusting his friend to watch his back, Hercules ran for the rope Rotus was now desperately trying to climb back up. When he reached it, he grabbed it and yanked as he said, "Nice of you to hang around."

The rope snapped as if it were straw.

Rotus fell with a shriek.

Hercules caught him, grinned, dropped him, picked him up under the shoulders, and slammed him into the wall.

Rotus sighed and toppled forward.

Hercules let him fall.

And grunted when a fist clubbed him on the spine. He turned to face a man ... he blinked. It was a woman, with long black hair and raging green eyes, who hadn't expected him to turn. Instantly he reached out and clamped a hand on her head. She swung again, but her reach wasn't long enough, and Hercules forced her to his knees, leaned over, and said, ' 'If you want to live, friend, stay where you are and don't move."