The courtroom of Parthenos was packed to the rafters with the curious, the righteous, the idle, in short, with all those who wanted to see justice done. King Praxos only held court once a month under the new moon, and his word was final in every case.

The accused were led into the court in chains and lined up before the king, the charges against each one were read aloud, the magistrate's officers testified as to the circumstances of the crime, and the king imposed sentence. It was quick and certain justice. Sometimes, the crowd was treated to pleas for leniency by the accused's family or a sudden burst of emotion from the condemned, either begging for mercy or cursing the king and the Fates. Court day was by far the best show in Parthenos, and citizens lined up early to get the best seats.

The court docket on this hot summer day promised a particularly interesting selection of crimes. The air was stirred by dozens of hand fans as court watchers tried to keep cool in the packed room. Speculations as to sentencing were exchanged and wagers were made as the accused were led in: one murder, one rape, six common assaults, one assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill inflicting serious injury, two fights, seven drunk and disorderlies, two grand larcenies, and one breaking and entering.

This last was of particular interest. The accused had not attempted to enter a common dwelling, but had had the effrontery to attack the residence of the Spartan ambassador. Parthenos and Sparta had had particularly close diplomatic ties ever since Sparta had helped secure the throne for King Praxos. Praxos, who had started his career as a petty warlord, was not amused at the insult his patrons had suffered in his city.

The accused housebreaker garnered some sympathy from the crowd, especially its female members. Fans fluttered as he was brought forward to face the charges. He was young and handsome, with long curly blonde hair and blue eyes that he dared to raise to the King's face even when the magistrate's men forced him to his knees to hear what sentence the King would impose. The prisoner shook off the guards as Praxos exchanged a glance with the Spartan ambassador's representative but his cocky attitude faltered slightly when Praxos condemned him to life at hard labor in the royal galleys. A murmur went through the crowd, though whether of sympathy or satisfaction was hard to determine.

"You're making a big mistake," was all the condemned man said as he was bound over to the custody of the king's shipmaster. Those court watchers who had a clear view did wonder at the smile that crossed the thief's face as he was led from the courtroom to begin serving his sentence. But their attention was quickly drawn to the next case.

***

"Be careful with the King's luggage!" cried Androcles as the porters dumped the bags in a pile on the dock. "These bags belong to King Jason of Corinth! That's no way to treat the King's property!" With a sigh of frustration, the young secretary pulled a coin from his pouch to tip the group of large and sweaty porters who surrounded him.

"Everything all right, Androcles?" The King's friend Hercules peered over the shoulders of two of the largest porters. Androcles nodded and with a laugh the porters broke up and drifted down the pier.

"Where is Jason, anyway?" Hercules asked as he started piling up the bags into neat stacks. Why did Jason have to have so much stuff with him just for a holiday on Ithaca, Hercules wondered. It had been the same royal production when they had packed the luggage onto the boat before they left Corinth and when they'd unpacked upon arrival at the resort island. Now it was time to go home and there was even more to pack since Jason couldn't resist the souvenir vendors. He had insisted on buying mugs, tunics, and hats all emblazoned with "Ithaca" in large letters for everyone at the Palace.

"His Majesty should be joining us shortly," replied the king's aide, adding a box to the pile.

"Oh, so formal, Androcles!" teased Hercules. "We're not back in Corinth yet! Relax, have some fun!" he laughed as he perched one of the Ithaca hats on Androcles's curly head.

"His Majesty," began Androcles as he put the hat back on the pile, but Hercules cut him off.

"His Majesty, His Majesty," he echoed. "How many times has Jason asked you to just call him by his name?"

"I do address His Majesty by his name, as he has requested," said the courtier. "But, he is the King and deserves respect."

"Well, His Majesty had better get his royal self over here or he'll be left behind like a commoner," said Hercules. Crew from their ship had started transferring the pile of luggage onto the deck. The demi-god watched two men struggle with a bag he had lifted easily. But Jason wanted to keep a low profile, so he resisted the urge to help.

It was too bad their vacation had been cut short. A message had arrived only yesterday requesting that King Jason return to Corinth at once. Something about a diplomatic crisis. Still they had had two wonderful weeks. Ithaca was a beautiful island and he and Jason had climbed rocky cliffs, swum in the warm sea, lain on sandy beaches, eaten great food, and flirted with beautiful girls. Iolaus would have loved it!

Hercules wondered again what had happened to his friend. Iolaus had just not showed up at the Academy at the end of the summer holiday. After a week, Cheiron had contacted the authorities, as he was obliged to do by the terms of Iolaus's parole. But they hadn't been able to find him either. Even his mother didn't know where he was.

And now it looked like Jason was going to be missing too. Where was he? Hercules looked back along the row of shops lining the quayside, and saw Jason emerge from a doorway with an armload of colorful tunics. Hercules sighed as the avid tourist stopped to examine the wares displayed by yet another street vendor.

"Jason! Jason, come on! The tide is going to turn!" he shouted.

"Your...King Jason! Please hurry! The boat is ready to sail!" Androcles added his appeal to Hercules's.

The young king looked up from his souvenir browsing. "Okay! I'm coming, I'm coming!" he called. Giving the vendor an apologetic shake of the head, he hurried toward the pier. "Good bye, Ithaca! Corinth, here we come!" he shouted as he put his foot on the gangplank and followed Hercules and Androcles aboard The Swallow.

***

Iolaus awoke with a start. He'd been dreaming he was back at the Academy again. Jason was there, and Hercules, and Androcles. But that wasn't right. Androcles wasn't a cadet; he was Jason's protocol aide. Iolaus opened his eyes and saw the bottom of the bunk above his only inches away from his face. He heard the sound of water lapping against the other side of the bulkhead at his shoulder. He smelled the other rowers all around him. He remembered where he was.

The convict slave fought back the panic that arose from the pit of his stomach every morning when he realized he was chained to a bit of wood floating on deep water. The iron cuff on his left ankle was fastened to a staple sunk into the frame of the bunk. If the ship sank, there was no escape from a watery death.

Iolaus covered his face with one arm and forced himself to take deep breaths. He wouldn't give the overseers the satisfaction of seeing his fear. He grasped the foot of chain between the manacles on his wrists with both hands to still their shaking. These restraints were new. He'd only been put in irons after they thought he was trying to jump ship. The chain was supposed to prevent him from swimming. The irony of the situation almost made him laugh. He didn't need to be chained to be kept from going overboard. A galley slave who couldn't swim! Now that was funny. Maybe they'd let him sleep on deck instead of in this stinking hole if they knew.

"Rise and shine, boys! Rise and shine!" The overseer's voice broke into Iolaus's thoughts. He lowered his arm and gritted his teeth. He'd live through this day, too, just as he had all the others. When his foot was released he slid out of the bunk and stood waiting for the order to move to the companionway up to the fore deck. His shift would take the ship out of port, but they'd be fed first.

Iolaus took a deep breath of fresh air as he came up on deck. It was a sunny day, but the weather was getting colder. He and the other rowers sat down in the prow as the food was handed out. Since they'd been in port, they should get something besides stale bread. Iolaus looked around at his fellow convicts. Some of them had been on this ship longer than he had, a few were newer. The man next to him he didn't recognize. He still had his clothes, which meant he must have just come on board. They'd taken Iolaus's boots when he first came on to the ship, and he'd lost his vest when it was stripped off him the first time he was flogged.

"These chains tight enough for you?" The overseer grabbed the length of chain between Iolaus's wrists and gave a quick jerk. The iron manacles dug into his hands, but he gritted his teeth and started straight in front of him.

"I asked you if they're tight enough, slave!" said the overseer, a fat man with a shaved head. He twisted the chain again, pulling the convict halfway to his feet. Iolaus raised his blue eyes to meet the brown ones of his tormentor.

"Yes, sir," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"Yes, sir, what?" demanded Baldy, pulling the chain again.

Biting back a curse he knew he'd regret, Iolaus replied, "Yes, sir, they're tight enough, sir."

With a grunt, the overseer flung Iolaus back onto the deck. He took his portion of bread and the port bonus of an apple from the basket carried behind the overseer by another slave. He'd get a dipper of water later.

Baldy had turned his attention to the newcomer. He looked him up and down, then turned to the slave with the food. "Nothing for this one," he ordered. "He looks pretty well-fed to me."

The stranger's protest was cut off sharply. "I said, nothing for you," Baldy said, dragging the man up by the front of his tunic. "And only speak when you're spoken to, slave!" He struck the man hard in the face, then moved on to his next victim.

Iolaus tore his bread in two and offered half to the new rower. "Take it, take it," he whispered urgently as the man reached for the food with a shaky hand.

The overseer whirled around as he heard a slave speak. He knocked the bread away from the new man's tentative grasp. "Didn't you hear me?" he said. "I said nothing for him." He stood in front of the disobedient slave, his arms akimbo.

Iolaus heaved a deep sigh. He was in for it now. And his back was just healed from his last flogging. But this pig couldn't be let to get away with it. He stood up to face their tormentor. "And I said he could share my ration," he said.

"You insolent dog! Do you challenge my orders?" The overseer slapped the slave's face. This cocky young one was nothing but trouble and obviously needed another lesson.

Iolaus could taste the blood in his mouth from his split lip. He gingerly felt the cut with his tongue. "Yes, sir. I do dare, sir," he replied quietly. He felt suddenly very calm as he watched the big man's temper begin to boil.

"You know the penalty for such disobedience." Iolaus knew the penalty only too well. He licked his cut lip again as the overseer signaled one of the guards. The man handed him the whip. Baldy let the length of rawhide uncoil down to the deck, then began to wind it up again.

"You're ready for it now, aren't you?" he asked. He drew the end of the whip lightly across Iolaus's bare chest and laughed as the slave involuntarily flinched at the touch. He leaned forward into Iolaus's face. "Well, you'll just have to wait for it. Row now. You can have it when your shift is over." He spoke in a confidential tone, as if he were promising Iolaus a treat. Then he whirled on his heel. "Get these slaves to their oars!" he shouted at the guards.

The boat used twenty rowers, ten on each side. Iolaus was #1 starboard, at the prow. #1 port, across the aisle from him, was a big man with blue tattoos over most of his body. The only Greek he spoke was curses, but his vocabulary was impressively large.

At the first beat, the rowers grasped their oars. On the second beat, the command came to the starboard rowers to extend their oars out into the sea. At the third beat, they pulled hard to get the boat away from the quayside. When the boat was clear, the port side rowers extended their oars and all twenty rowers waited for the fist strike of the rowing beat. As one they bent forward over their oars and pulled back with their whole weight. The ship was underway.

Iolaus hoped for calm weather. He wanted to row, to pull so hard against the sea that Poseidon himself couldn't stop the ship. But by the time they cleared the harbor, he could hear sailors on the deck above his head running to set the sails. The wind picked up and the rowing beat stopped. The rowers sat in their places, waiting unless the wind died down again. The weather held fair for sailing, however, and the hours passed.

Old Baldy paced up and down the aisle between the rowers. Iolaus forced himself to stare straight ahead, deliberately avoiding looking at the man each time he walked toward the front of the boat. But every time he turned in the aisle at Iolaus's shoulder he taunted him with the time. "Only three hours to go...Two hours, slave...One more hour..." With half an hour to go, he began carrying the whip with him, slapping the coil into his hand or against his leg as he paced up and down.

Iolaus felt his grip on the oar tightening as he braced himself for the beating. The last time he'd gotten the maximum of ten lashes. They never gave more, so the rowers wouldn't miss a turn at the oars. The first turns back on the bench were harder than the beating itself. That only took a few minutes. A rowing shift was hours of agony with a back full of fresh whip cuts.

Finally, the shift was over. The next team of rowers switched into place one by one even though the oars were not in play. The #10 rowers switched first, and the change worked its way back down the row. Iolaus and his fellow rowers filed up the companionway to the fore deck. The last man was barely in his place when the overseer commanded the guards, "Take him!" But he didn't point at Iolaus, he pointed at the new man.

"No!" Iolaus cried as the man struggled between the two guards, begging to be let go. "No! He didn't do anything wrong! Let him go!"

One guard let go of the other man and grabbed Iolaus's arm, restraining him as he stepped out of his place in line. He pulled against the guard as he grappled to get a hold on the chain between his wrists.

Baldy signaled the other guard to stop trying to drag the new slave over to the whipping post. He turned his attention to his favorite target. "What did you say, boy?" he asked the still struggling Iolaus, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Don't whip him! He didn't do anything wrong!" Iolaus pulled against the guard as he faced the overseer.

"Didn't do anything wrong!" Baldy gave a short bark of laughter. "He's been convicted to a slave ship and he didn't do anything wrong! That's a laugh!" He put his face up to Iolaus's. "He committed the same crime as you. He was born."

The fat man turned away and made an elaborate show of surveying the semicircle of slaves gathered on the deck, walking down the line with his arms akimbo, the whip clutched in the fist resting on one hip. "If I don't whip him, who should I whip?" he asked. "How about him?" He pointed the coiled whip at the man at the end of the row. "Or him?" He pointed at the man next in line.

"No. No, sir," Iolaus replied. No one else moved or made a sound.

"Maybe I should whip you, eh, boy?" Baldy prodded Iolaus in the chest with the coiled whip. "Should I whip you?"

Iolaus shook off the guard and stood up straight. He took a deep breath and, looking Baldy in the eye, replied in the ordered form, "Yes, sir. You should whip me, sir."

The big man gave him an evil grin as he nodded to the guards. "I'll do this one myself," he said as they tied Iolaus to the whipping post.

***

It was mid-day when the ship's cook served up lunch for the three passengers. The young King of Corinth and his party sat under the striped awning that shaded the deck at the back of the ship. Sails snapped in the wind overhead and dolphins swam in their wake.

"Look! Look! Those two are racing us!" Hercules pointed to two dolphins on the port side. The young men laughed as they watched the dozens of dolphins around the ship, pointing out their antics to each other. Androcles passed a basket of bread and cheese, exchanging it with Jason for a bottle of wine. As he filled his cup, the ship's captain came up a short ladder from the main deck to join them.

"I hope everything is to your liking, gentlemen," he said. The three passengers assured him they were fine. "If this wind holds we'll be in Corinth in a week," said the captain. "Just let me or the mate know if there is anything you need," he added before he turned to confer with the steersman at the helm.

"He's pretty polite for a pirate," whispered Hercules, laughing behind his hand.

"He's not a pirate," said Jason. "He's a trader."

"A trader who uses slaves to row his ship," said Hercules.

"He's within the law, Hercules. You know that. His rowers are convicted criminals."

"Well, he's making a profit off their labor," protested Hercules.

"It's legal in Parthenos for private citizens to buy convicts from the king. I don't like it either, but that's the Parthenian alternative to paying taxes," said Jason. He quickly forgot about Parthenian politics as the cook came up on deck with a plate of shrimp fried in olive oil and another jug of wine.

"These are great!" said Hercules, slowly inhaling a deep breath over the fragrant dish of still sizzling seafood. "I guess there are advantages to traveling with a king!" The three laughed as they passed the plate, soaking up the flavorful oil with bits of bread while they watched the dolphins from the shade of the blue and white striped awning.

A sudden commotion in the bow of the ship caught Androcles's attention. Before King Jason could be disturbed, he quickly put his plate down and approached the captain who was still at the helm. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Sorry to disturb you gentlemen," said the captain. "Just a minor discipline problem. Nothing for you to worry about. These convict slaves are a tough lot and require a strong hand."

Androcles followed the captain's gaze to the bows. A slave seemed to be challenging the guards. Suddenly, Androcles drew a breath. No, it couldn't be! He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked again.

"Jason," he said. Then he called louder to get the king's attention. "Jason, come here!"

"What is it, Androcles?" asked Jason, as he popped another shrimp into his mouth. He glanced over his shoulder at his aide. What was the matter with him using that tone of voice? He was usually so deferential.

Hercules looked over his shoulder to where Androcles still stood by the helm, staring under the shade of his hand at the front of the ship. Suddenly, he was on his feet. "Jason!" he said, excitement growing in his voice. "Jason, look! Look! It's Iolaus!" He ran up next to Androcles.

"What?" Jason leapt up too, and got to the rail just in time to see a slave struggling with a guard as he shouted at the overseer. His uncut hair was pulling loose from the thong that tied it back at the nape of his neck, and a red beard bristled on his chin, but it was without a doubt Iolaus.

"Gentlemen, I am sorry for this disturbance," said the captain, climbing up beside them. "That one has been nothing but trouble ever since he came on board."

Hercules was about to jump over the rail to the main deck when Jason stopped him. "Let me take care of this!" he hissed into his angry friend's ear.

"When he puts all that energy into rowing, he's like a maniac," laughed the captain. "If he didn't he'd have been shark bait long since."

"He's strong, you say? He looks a little small to me," said Jason in a speculative tone, watching the struggle under the shade of his hand.

"Oh, he's strong enough. And he only tried to escape once. He got as far as the rail the last time we passed Corinth. But the guards got him when he didn't jump for some reason."

"He can't swim," said Jason to himself.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" said the captain, apologetically.

"I said, maybe he can't swim." The captain joined in politely as the young king laughed at his own joke.

"Jason! Do something!" hissed Hercules at his other side before Jason shut him up with a look.

Turning back to the captain, Jason made him an offer. "Listen, I need another man to help with my baggage when we get to Corinth. Why don't you let me take this one off your hands? Say...forty dinars?"

"Jason, can I talk to you for a minute?" Hercules muttered through clenched teeth.

"Excuse me a moment," Jason smiled at the captain. "Forty dinars," he repeated his offer with a raised eyebrow as he pulled Hercules aft with him.

"What are you doing?" demanded Hercules in a fierce whisper. "You can't buy Iolaus!"

"I can't do anything else, Hercules," said Jason urgently. "We can hardly rush the whole crew to rescue him, and if they find out he's worth a ransom, they'll demand a fortune. You know I'd pay any price, but they'll keep him until it's paid. This way, he can come with us and we'll get off the ship at the next port."

Hercules nodded reluctantly as he realized the logic of Jason's plan. When they returned to the rail, he watched with clenched fists as Iolaus faced the overseer. Androcles stood beside him, tightly clutching the rail. They exchanged glances as Jason repeated his offer to the captain, then watched in horror as Iolaus was dragged to the whipping post and his manacled arms drawn up high above his head. "Hurry up, Jason. Hurry up," Hercules muttered, banging his fist on the rail.

"Forty dinars! Done!" Jason clasped the captain's arm. "But, I want him in good shape," he added. "I'll have to pay less if he's not ready to work."

"Of course, of course," said the captain hastily, still holding Jason's arm in the deal-sealing clasp. "Stop that," he ordered his cabin boy as the first blow landed on Iolaus's back. "Bring that slave here to King Jason."

***

Iolaus had braced himself for the expected blow, but the first lash had all the overseer's fury behind it and the force of it drove him against the post, almost knocking the breath out of him. He turned his face to the side, but his cheekbone hit the wood with a crack. Tears filled his eyes and he gasped to fill his lungs again.

One down, nine to go. He could do this. Iolaus drew a ragged breath and braced himself for the next stroke. It wasn't as bad as the first. The first stroke was always the worst. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.

Eight more. Iolaus was breathing heavily and clenched his eyes shut as he tensed for number eight. His fingers curled around the chain that held his arms tight above him.

Number seven caught him low across the ribs and the end of the whip cut into the unprotected flesh of his side. He pressed his cheek against the post as he concentrated on breathing.

Six was next. Six was good. After six, they'd be half done. He closed his eyes tightly and waited.

The blow never came. "Take him down," he heard Old Baldy say. Take him down? What was up with this now? The guard loosed the rope that pulled his chained arms up toward the hook near the top of the post and his hands dropped down to his head. He brought them down to hold the post as he leaned his forehead against the smooth wood. Was it really over?

"Sold, eh?" said Baldy. "Well, let's clean him up before he goes!"

The bucketful of cold salty seawater hit Iolaus like a lightening bolt. He couldn't hold in the cry that escaped his lips. Blessed Artemis! It hurt! His back was on fire! He wrapped his arms around the post as far as the damned chain would allow and fought down the rising nausea. Tears flowed from under his tightly closed eyelids, but he couldn't do anything about that. The most important thing was to stay on his feet and not be sick. He gulped in air as the guards pulled him across the deck. Where were they taking him? He stumbled up the ladder to the aft deck where the guards dropped him on the boards.

With a painful breath, he pulled himself up to his hands and knees and looked up. He must be delirious! He could swear he recognized the man standing over him. "Jason?" he gasped.

A kick in the stomach sent him reeling back to the deck. "Speak when you're spoken to, slave. And address the king as Your Majesty," growled the captain, clutching thirty-five dinars in his fist. Anything was worth getting rid of this troublemaker!

***

"I'll take him," said Hercules, shouldering the others aside. He picked Iolaus up and carried him gently down to the passenger quarters. Androcles followed close on his heels and sidled past him in the narrow passage to open the cabin door. They managed to get Iolaus to the bunk, but he seemed barely aware of his surroundings.

"Get him some water!" ordered the demi-god as he knelt before his long-lost friend. He seized the cup Androcles offered him and gently held it to Iolaus's lips, supporting his head with his other hand. "Iolaus, here, drink this," he said in a soft voice. "It'll be all right now. You're with us."

The freed slave managed a few sips of the water, but spilled most of the cupful down his chin. He looked up to thank the man who had given him a drink. He'd called him Iolaus. He hadn't heard his own name since he'd been arrested all those months ago. He blinked his eyes and shook his head. It looked like Hercules. He must be mad! First Jason, and now... He opened his eyes and looked again. "Hercules, is it really you?" he croaked. He could barely get the words out.

"It's me, Iolaus." Hercules put his hand on Iolaus's where it rested limply in his lap.

"You're not a dream?" asked Iolaus, putting his hand on the other man's arm.

"No, I'm real. And here's Androcles, too." Hercules indicated the Corinthian who was standing just behind him.

"Androcles?" Iolaus looked up to see another friendly face.

"I'll go get the key for those chains," said Androcles, heading for the door.

"Never mind, I can do it," said Hercules. He grasped the chain in both hands and with a wrench broke it in two, then twisted open the locks on the manacles, freeing his friend from the loathsome restraints. "Get rid of these!" he cried, handing them to Androcles.

"Hercules! I can't believe it's really you! What are you doing here?" asked Iolaus. He'd taken his friend's hand in a tight grasp as soon as the chains were removed.

Before Hercules had a chance to answer, Androcles was back with a basin of water and a pile of clean cloths. "Iolaus, let me see your back," he said, wringing out a cloth he'd dipped in the water. Iolaus turned to one side as he sat on the edge of the bunk, and Androcles began to wipe up the blood from the flogging. At the first touch, Iolaus gasped, but soon the sweet fresh water began to relieve the sting of the salt water. As he'd done so often in the past few months, Iolaus closed his eyes and focused all his attention on his breathing to block out the pain. But he kept Hercules's hand in a tight grasp.

"Where did you learn that?" Hercules asked Androcles as he watched Jason's aide surely but gently clean Iolaus's injured back.

"My mother and grandmother are both healers," replied Androcles. "My grandmother assisted Queen Althea when Jason was born." He spoke quietly as he worked. "She told me often how hard she worked to save the queen’s life after he was born. The queen fought to live, she said, but Jason was such a big baby, one of the biggest she’d ever midwived. Even though she was not able to save Althea, King Aeson ever after treated her and our whole family with great respect."

Androcles frowned as he finished cleaning Iolaus’s wounds. At Hercules’s questioning look he whispered, "This isn’t the first time he’s been beaten." Hercules peered over his friend’s shoulder and caught a deep breath through clenched teeth at the sight of the old scars that had been hidden by the fresh blood on Iolaus’s back. He tightened his grip on the motionless Iolaus’s hands as he met Androcles's sympathetic gaze.

The volunteer healer quickly resumed his soothing bedside patter. "Nothing broken!" he said, carefully feeling Iolaus’s ribs. "Let’s wrap up these cuts. Hold Iolaus's arms up so I can wrap these bandages," he directed Hercules as he carefully placed a clean white cloth over the raw injuries. The demi-god didn't speak to his friend for fear of breaking his concentration, but gently lifted his arms and held them while Androcles quickly wrapped strips of white cotton around Iolaus's body to hold the bandage in place on his back.

"How is he?" Jason finally came into the tiny cabin as Androcles finished his work. Iolaus opened his eyes at the sound of his voice.

"Jason!" Iolaus greeted his friend. "I can't believe it! Are you sure you're all real?"

"Iolaus, what happened?" asked Jason, clasping his friend's forearm.

Hercules couldn't believe it when he saw a smile playing around Iolaus's lips as he replied, "I was convicted of trying to break into the Spartan embassy in Parthenos. They made a big mistake, though," he continued, his smile growing wider. He looked up at Jason. "I wasn't breaking in to the Spartan embassy when I was arrested. I was breaking out!"

***

"When I got to Parthenos, I went to see the Spartan embassy. The new ambassador had just moved in and the place was like a fortress!" Iolaus winced as he adjusted his seat on the narrow bunk. His back still ached, but he'd had his first good meal in months. He could still taste the honey from the piece of baklava Hercules had managed to smuggle down to the cabin.

"They must have heard you were coming!" said Jason dryly as he passed Iolaus the wineskin from his seat on a chest by the door.

"Yeah!" Iolaus laughed, then gasped. "Don't make me laugh, Jason," he said. "It only hurts when I laugh." He chuckled quietly. "Gods, I haven't laughed in so long." The newly freed slave took a swig from the skin and handed it back to his friend.

"Are you all right? Do you want to rest now?" Jason didn't want to overtire Iolaus on his first night of freedom. But he needed to know what had happened. He was the reason Iolaus had been in Parthenos. He had sent him to find a list of Spartan agents that his own spies had informed him was at the embassy there. Behind his diplomatic front, the new ambassador was rumored to be a spymaster of the Black Eagle, the Spartan secret police. If Corinth could get its hands on that list, it would seriously cripple the Black Eagle's operations outside Spartan territory. Jason had thought the list was worth any risk, but now he wondered.

"I'm okay," Iolaus reassured Jason. He eased his position on the bunk again before he picked up his story. "I knew I had to get inside to see the layout, so I pretended to be a Parthenian looking for work on the embassy construction crew. They were remodeling the courtyard. The ambassador's wife wanted a fountain! The pay was pretty good, too!"

Jason shook his head as he smiled at Iolaus's comment. How he could joke after what he had gone through was beyond the young king's comprehension. Iolaus was stronger than he let on, stronger than even his best friends had realized.

"I laid paving bricks for three days before I could sneak away from the work to look around. They were keeping a close eye on the construction crew, monitoring us in and out of the embassy and watching us all day. I learned more at night, at the inn nearby where some of the other workers hung around. They talked about the embassy, how tight the security was. The ambassador and his famous collection of Trojan antiquities. His wife and his beautiful daughter, who hated being in a backwater like Parthenos. There was a rumor going around about some earlier workers who had disappeared after a special work detail. The bets were 5 to 1 for a secret room being built!

"The third day, a cart full of bricks tipped over when a wheel broke, and I managed to get away from the guards in the confusion. I'd seen the ambassador and his secretary going in and out of a door back in the corner of the courtyard, near the stables. Which seemed like an odd place for an ambassador to be spending his time. So I tried the door...

"A soldier was just sitting there in what looked like an empty room."

"What did he do when you came in?" asked Jason. "You must have surprised Hades out of him!"

"Yeah! Especially since he thought the door was locked!" Iolaus winced again as he began to laugh at the memory of the man's face when he'd opened the "locked" door. "You know, Jason, my lockpicking skills have really gotten a workout since I went to work for you!"

Jason laughed as the two conspirators shared another round of the wineskin. "Corinth needs people with many skills!"

"I thought, now why is this guy just sitting here in this empty room?" Iolaus continued his story. "I bluffed him that I was looking for the little bricklayer's room, and went back to the construction works before he could think about it too much.

"That night, I went up to the roof of an apartment building across the street from the embassy. I could see that there was more roof space there than the size of the room I'd seen. I went around the block on a midnight stroll and found the place. Sure enough, I could see that there was a secret door there. It was pretty clever, really, disguised to look like a repair to the masonry! You should try it if you ever need a new secret entrance in Corinth! You could connect it to my room. Girls would love it!"

"Iolaus!" cried Jason. "How can you think about girls at a time like this?"

"Oh, I think about girls all the time, Jason. You know that." Iolaus had made himself laugh again, and shifted his position as he felt it in his sore back. "Besides, I haven't been able to do anything except think about them for a while, have I?"

He picked up the story. "Anyway, no time like the present, I figured, so I worked my way around the "patch" in the wall, and found the latch to the door! Inside was a small office. I could hear some noises, and what do you think it was? Carrier pigeons!"

"That's how they were getting the instructions out!" cried Jason. "We were never able to find any couriers. Now I know why!"

"In the desk, I found the list. It was coded, but Androcles had showed me enough of what you knew so I could recognize it. I was just about to go back outside when I heard someone at the secret door! I had to get out of there quick. I just hoped that since no one had been working in the office, there wasn't a guard in the front room. Otherwise, I'd just have to run for it.

"There wasn't a guard, luckily, but there I was stuck inside the Spartan embassy. And I figured whoever had come in by the secret door was probably going to come on in right behind me.

"I went on out into the courtyard. The front gate was closed and bolted and guards were all over the walls. I figured there must be a service entrance somewhere behind the living quarters, so I worked my way over there as quick as I could, hiding in amongst the construction equipment. I got to the kitchen, but just then, some servants came down the stairs. I ducked out through the pantry and ended up in the atrium of the ambassador's private residence.

"Then who should I see but the ambassador himself coming down the main stairs! I ducked into the first door, which was the library. I was just about to jump out the window when I could hear the Parthenian night patrol coming down the street. But the ambassador was right behind me inside.

"I decided to take my chances with the Parthenians. I hid the list and climbed out the window. At first I thought I'd gotten away with it, but then the city guard yelled at me to stop. So I pretended to be climbing into the window. I figured attempted breaking and entering would be less serious than actual theft, or than being caught by the Spartans! Who knew?" Iolaus finished his story and took another drink from the wineskin.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," he said in response to Jason's silence. "I knew the risks when I said I'd do it."

The King of Corinth ran his hands over his face and through his hair before he looked up with an expression full of conflicting emotions. "Iolaus, I am so sorry about...everything. About what happened to you. And all for nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?" cried Iolaus. "I got the list, you know."

Jason looked up startled. "What?" he exclaimed. "I thought you had to leave the list behind."

"I hid it in the ambassador's library. I figured I'd go back when the coast was clear and get it." Iolaus wiggled his eyebrows over a conspiratorial smile. "It's taken a little longer than I figured, but I'd bet you a dinar, if I had a dinar, that it's still exactly where I put it."

***

The Parthenian inn was not crowded at mid-afternoon. The four conspirators waited for the waitress to leave the table before they began to compare notes in hushed tones. They had arrived in the city three days ago, and had used the time to scout out the Spartan embassy and plan the second theft of the list of Black Eagle agents. Iolaus and Hercules had a room upstairs, but Jason and Androcles were staying at a more expensive inn a few blocks away. A group of four men was too conspicuous, Iolaus had said.

Hercules reported that construction work at the Spartan Embassy was long since completed. A large fountain with statues of nymphs and tritons now played in the center of the well-guarded courtyard. Visitors to the Embassy were questioned at the gate by security guards

"They wouldn't even let me past the guard station," he said, helping himself to a hunk of cheese. "They took the flowers I was supposed to be delivering to the ambassador's beautiful daughter and they didn't even give me a tip. Spartans," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Iolaus swore an oath when Hercules described how the windows to the library had been barred over. They couldn't get in the front gate, they couldn't get in the windows. Options were narrowing, but he wasn't going to admit defeat yet. There had to be another way in.

"There's a balcony above the library, up on the third floor," continued Hercules. "The windows up there might be barred too. I couldn't see over the wall," he added apologetically, reaching for the dish of olives in the center of the table.

"The Parthenians pretty much hate the Spartans." Androcles had spent the last three days in the market place, talking to merchants and shoppers alike. "Their old king, Jarius, and his family were very popular. King Praxos was supposed to take over only temporarily when the old king was sick ten years ago, but he's still in power, supported by the Spartans. The rich mining and shipping interests support him because they've made a killing under his rule, but the poor people pay all the taxes and are threatened with slavery if they don't pay up."

"Yeah, we've seen where those policies lead," said Jason, remembering The Swallow. "The rich traders profit off the slave trade, all in the name of justice!"

"If the Spartans didn't support him, Praxos wouldn't be able to hold the throne for very long. He only has his own guard to protect him, members of his old raiding army."

Jason had stayed away from the embassy for fear that some Spartan might recognize him. Embassy personnel moved around a lot, and some aide or guard might have been stationed in Corinth. "There are fishing boats at the harbor that can be hired for a few dinars," he reported. "No questions asked, ready to sail at a moment's notice. I don't think fishing is the main income for some of these guys!" he laughed. "A guy named Arlo will be waiting to hear from me."

Iolaus considered all the information that the others had gathered. He too had stayed away from the embassy for fear someone might recognize him. They might not, though, he thought, running his hand across his curly hair. When they had gotten off The Swallow, the first thing he had done was go to a public bath for a hot soak to get the smell of the ship off his body. He'd had the barber there give him a shave and on impulse he'd had his hair cut short. It barely grazed the top of his ears now.

In the fortnight since they'd left that rotten tub, his back had almost healed. The exercise of walking had given him back his land legs, and Jason had bought good food and beds for them all as they made their way to Parthenos. Best of all was being back among friends. And now he'd get his revenge on the Spartans and the Parthenians by completing his mission to steal the Black Eagle list.

Iolaus began to explain his plan to his mission team.

***

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Hercules asked as he tied the end of the rope to an iron horseshoe. He and Iolaus were making final preparations for the assault on the Spartan embassy.

The son of Zeus was still amazed at the detailed plan his friend had devised to organize their mission. Their room at the inn was littered with equipment purchased from lists the master thief had made up for each of the conspirators. Each item had been selected with a purpose, and Iolaus had assigned each of the four of them a specific task. The plan seemed simple, but Hercules had his doubts. One slip up and they'd all be back on The Swallow, and not as pampered passengers this time.

"Of course it'll work," responded Iolaus. "As long as the moon is dark, the bedrooms on the balcony are empty, the guards are not looking, and the ambassador doesn't need a scroll in the middle of the night. And, of course, if you can throw that horseshoe over the drainpipe."

"I can throw the horseshoe all right," said Hercules grimly. "That's the only thing I know for sure will work." He looked at his friend who was carefully rigging a leather harness. "How did you do it, Iolaus?"

"Do what?" asked Iolaus as he worked the buckle of the harness loose.

"This." Hercules gestured at the supplies Iolaus had ordered. "Break into people's houses. Steal things. Aren't you scared? Especially after what happened last time?"

Iolaus stopped tugging at the buckle. "Yeah," he said, looking at Hercules. "Yeah, I am scared. Not frightened. Scared. You know, how you get scared when you run in with Ares. It's kind of like hunting: you go out and anything can happen. You might succeed and you might fail. But that's what makes it exciting. You can't let the fear stop you."

Hercules nodded as he remembered the thrill of facing his immortal half-brother's repeated attacks. He had to admit that it was exciting to meet the God of War's dares, to figure out ways to defeat him. "But that's different," he argued. "I don't have any choice. When Ares appears, he won't take no for an answer! He might hurt my Mom or you or Jason or somebody else."

"Here, let me see that!" The thief took the horseshoe from the demi-god and examined the knot in the rope. Finally he looked up at Hercules. "I don't have a choice, either," he said grimly. "I failed the first time, but not again. Jason expected me to do this, and I can't let him down now that I have a second chance. This plan has to work!" He handed the horseshoe back to Hercules.

The two friends sat in silence for a moment. "You didn't have to get involved, you know," said Iolaus. When they were still on The Swallow, Jason had explained to the others what had happened, how Iolaus had ended up on the galley, and how the two of them were going back to Parthenos to complete the mission. Hercules and Androcles had both volunteered without hesitation to help, and nothing Jason or Iolaus could say could talk them out of it.

"Iolaus, you know I can't let you and Jason have all the fun," Hercules replied with a feeble laugh at his attempt at a joke. He extended his hand. "Let's do it!" he said as Iolaus grasped his arm in a firm clasp. "Let's do it."

***

When the night watchman called out midnight, Iolaus and Hercules were at the end of the street that ran past the embassy library. A dark figure at the far corner put up the hood of his cloak. It was Jason, keeping watch. The coast was clear.

Hercules quickly unwound the coiled rope he had hidden under his own cloak. He began to swing the end weighted with the horseshoe, letting the rope out gradually. With a mighty throw, he finally let the horseshoe fly. It arced up through the air, pulling the rope after it over the drainpipe that extended from the roof of the embassy. The demi-god quickly played the rope out to extend the weighted end into Iolaus's grasp. The thief tied the end onto his harness and at his signal, Hercules pulled his end of the rope. Silently, Iolaus rose through the air, fending himself off the wall with his hands and feet.

As he reached the edge of the balustrade, Iolaus pulled on the rope to signal Hercules to stop lifting him. He peered over the parapet. The balcony was furnished with wicker chairs and tables and crowded with potted palms and ivy. But it was empty of people. He signaled Hercules with another tug and was soon able to swing his legs in over the wall onto the tiled floor. So far so good. He was in the Spartan embassy.

***

Jason could just barely see the shadowy figures of Hercules and Iolaus under the wall of the embassy. Keeping lookout was not his idea of helping with the theft. But he knew Iolaus was right to keep him out of the actual break-in. King of Corinth Caught in Embassy Burglary. He could hear the town criers now. If the others were arrested, he could still get away and claim no knowledge. His first duty must be to Corinth and his people. But he was damned if he would abandon Iolaus again, or the others.

A man following a boy with a lantern came past the main gate of the embassy toward him. Jason stepped back into the side street and pushed his hood back, the warning signal to the others. The man passed him with a nod and kept walking. The new moon sailed high in the sky. If Iolaus wasn't out of the house by the time it cleared the top of the wall across from the embassy, they were all to just walk away. Arlo was waiting with his boat, and he would sail with the tide whether all four of them were on board or not. Jason put his hood up again in the silent street.

***

Hercules gave the rope a final tug at Iolaus's signal, then felt the tension in the rope give as the thief reached the balcony. He hung onto the long end and flattened himself against the wall. At the far end of the street, he could see Jason. He pressed his back against the bricks as he saw him push his hood off. A lantern passed between the buildings, then all was dark again. Iolaus's plan would work. He'd thrown the rope over the drainpipe. No one was on the balcony, or he would have heard some shouting by now. Surely the ambassador was not likely to want a scroll in the middle of the night. The list must be where Iolaus had hidden it.

Iolaus had refused to tell Hercules, Jason, or Androcles where the hiding place was. If any of them were arrested, they wouldn't be able to tell anything. Only he himself, inside the house, was in real danger. Hercules tried to focus on the rope, waiting for Iolaus's tug to tell him to lower away. Whatever happened, he wasn't going to let Iolaus go back to the Parthenian galleys.

***

Iolaus pulled the loop of rope off the drainpipe and unbuckled his harness. If anyone came onto the balcony while he was inside, the dangling rope would be a giveaway. He wrapped the end of the rope around a huge pot containing a ficus tree and tried the nearest of the three doors into the house. It was locked. The middle door was also locked. Third time's a charm he thought as he tried the last door. It swung inward, and he slipped inside the room.

Iolaus found himself in a bedroom. A bed with trailing curtains stood against the far wall. He stood still next to the door and held his breath. The door to the inside of the house was right next to the bed, but another door was closer to him, in the middle of the side wall. Stepping carefully to avoid knocking into the furniture, the thief moved across the room. He stopped suddenly and ducked down as the sleeper began to stir. But soon the sound of gentle snoring came from the bed. Letting out his breath, Iolaus moved to the side door and eased it open a crack. The room inside was dark, so he slipped through the opening and gently closed the door behind him.

Someone was in the room! Iolaus dropped to a defensive crouch, ready for an attack, but the figure didn't move. Iolaus let his breath out slowly as he realized the threatening guard was only a dressmaker's dummy. He was in a sewing room. Shelves lined the walls and baskets of ribbons, buttons, and laces cluttered the table. He eased over to the far door to the balcony and undid the latch. It would be a quick way out, and he wouldn't have to go through the bedroom again.

The door to the interior was covered with a heavy curtain. Iolaus pulled the fabric aside and peered out. The hall outside was another balcony circling the deserted atrium of the ambassador's residence. Pale moonlight shone on the white walls of the house and the steel armor of a guard on the opposite roof. Iolaus waited and watched the guard pacing. Soon he could count the steps in each direction. As the man turned away from him, the thief ducked onto the balcony and slid quickly along the wall to the top of the staircase down to the next landing.

Iolaus was halfway down the stairs when he noticed the light in the room off the lower balcony. He would have to double back on the balcony in front of the lighted room to get to the top of the second flight of stairs. He sat crouched behind the banister with growing dismay as he listened to the conversation of the room's occupants.

"It's fantastic!" A man spoke in an awed voice. "Where did you get it?"

"Let's just say, I have my sources," replied a woman. "I thought of you and your...private collection, Ambassador, as soon as I heard it was, how do you say? Available," she added in a strong Thracian accent.

"The Golden Apple of Paris! I can't believe it!" The ambassador's voice broke with emotion. "My collection will be complete!"

"Your Private Collection, you mean of course, Excellency," said the woman, stressing heavily the word private.

Was the Golden Apple stolen or a fake? Iolaus wondered. He put his money on fake. A thief would have to be a fool to try to steal it from Aphrodite. Either way, the dealer had a willing buyer in that avaricious antiquities collector, the Spartan ambassador. This thief couldn't wait to find out about the apple, however. He had to get the Black Eagle list out of the library and get the Hades out of Parthenos.

Iolaus watched the roof guard, and when he turned away again on his patrol, he peered over the stair rail. There was just enough room between the upper balcony and the slanting banister wall for him to slip through and drop to the lower floor without having to pass the door to the room where the ambassador and the antiques dealer were getting into serious negotiations. He waited for the guard again, then hoisting himself over the banister he dropped soundlessly to the balcony. In two steps he was hidden behind the banister of the lower flight of stairs. The library was just ahead of him now.

***

Androcles left the Bull and Bear as the moon rose over the stable yard wall. He walked quickly across the plaza in front of the inn, and turned left down the narrow street. Some people thought his job at the palace was boring. And they would have been right until a few months ago. But ever since the Affair of the Stolen Seal, as he always thought of it, Androcles's life had definitely taken an exciting turn. Now here he was working with King Jason and his friends on a secret mission! He still couldn't believe it!

The young Corinthian's heart beat faster with excitement as he walked through the marketplace toward the wine merchant’s shop, his hand curled tightly around the small glass vial in his pocket. He still wasn’t quite sure how Iolaus had talked him into spiking a jar of fine Cretan wine with sleeping drugs. And delivering it to a crowd of already half-drunk Parthenian guardsmen. He had at first protested when Iolaus had asked him to mix a sleeping potion.

"Listen, we need to make King Praxos think there’s a conspiracy against him. If he thinks his own guard has been turned against him, he’ll be looking for a bogey many behind every bush, especially Spartan ones," Iolaus had explained.

"Yes, but it's not right to give people sleeping potions that they don't know about. They might take too much and it could kill them!"

"Androcles, you know how to mix these potions. You mixed a great one for me, it really helped me sleep that first day on the ship. And I didn't know I was taking it."

"That was different. I could monitor how much you had."

"Well, Jason told me you really know this stuff. But if you really can't do it, we'll just have to go in there and start a big fight! That would let Praxos know someone was out to get him!"

"I can do it! All I need is the right ingredients."

"Okay! Just don't buy everything you need from the same vendor, okay? And don't tell them it's for a sleeping potion, what ever you do!"

The wine dealer at the corner of the next street was expecting his client, and opened the shop door before he had a chance to knock. The big stone jar of wine that Androcles had ordered earlier that afternoon was waiting for him, propped up in a bronze stand.

"Is this the vintage I ordered?" he asked with a frown as he inspected the jar. "This isn't a Cretan jar."

"Oh, yes, sir! This is just what you ordered!" the merchant assured him. "You know, sir, that Cretan wines are subject to a very heavy tax. Our clients often prefer to have their wine in less ... conspicuous containers," he explained, raising a thin eyebrow. "These jars were brought from ... abroad ... and have been aging in my cellar. I assure you the wine is at its peak of perfection."

"I'd like to try it," demanded the customer. "It's a gift, you know. For my betrothed's father. I'd just like to make sure it's right," he added a little apologetically. "Could you seal up the jar again so no one would ever know it's been opened?"

"Yes, of course, sir. I know how delicate such things are." The wine merchant's own father-in-law actually didn't know a Chablis from a Chianti, but he could see a long and profitable relationship before him if this charming young man's in-laws were happy with his wine. He began to pry the wax seal off the jar.

***

If only that very large, very well-armed guard hadn't been standing in front of the library door, Iolaus could have picked the lock in a few seconds. He ducked down again behind the banister. Whatever the ambassador had added to his antiquities collection, it must be worth its weight in gold. Maybe it was gold! And Zeus alone knew what might be in the "Private Collection." The thief rubbed his suddenly itchy palms on his thighs and quickly brought his thoughts back to the task at hand. The Black Eagle list was much more valuable than any old antiquity, even a gold one.

The guard by the door suddenly turned toward the wall. When he turned around again he was tugging at the hem of his tunic. He squared his shoulders and quickly moved off away from Iolaus and around the corner. Iolaus breathed a sigh of relief. A soldier can't leave his post, no matter how loudly nature calls. No wonder that plant in the large pot next to the library door looked so wilted! The coast was clear now, as soon at the guard on the east wall reached the south end of his beat.

Iolaus counted to ten under his breath and right on cue the guard passed along the wall headed south and out of his sight. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. He slipped down the stairs and along the wall under the balcony to the paneled door. Pulling up on the handle, he twisted the latch. It didn't move! The door was locked!

Okay. He hadn't really thought the library would be open, anyway. Iolaus felt in his boot for the lockpick he'd made from a narrow ribbon of iron. He bent to insert the tip into the lock. Holding his breath, he concentrated on the touch of the metal in his fingers. With a probe here, a twist there, he quickly worked the tool through the lock. With a final twist, he felt the mechanism turn. Still holding the latch open with the pick, he turned the door handle with his free hand.

Heaving a sigh Iolaus leaned back against the inside of the library door. Finally he was in! But there was no time to waste now. He had to get the list and get out. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he moved away from the door. He could see moonlight faintly outlined in the three windows on the outside wall. He'd climbed out the left one the day he'd paid his first visit to the library. Every detail of that experience was etched into his brain. He approached the window, his heart beating wildly as he half expected to hear again that fateful cry of "Hold there!"

In the silence he reached for the list's hiding place. Then his heart almost stopped beating entirely as he realized it wasn't there! The figure of Hector in full Trojan armor had been replaced by a marble statue of men struggling with sea serpents!

Dragging in deep breaths, Iolaus told himself not to panic. The ambassador had just rearranged his collection. The list must be here! Iolaus moved his gaze around the room. It was almost like a museum, there were so many objects on every table, on shelves, in cases. Moonlight from the iron-barred windows glimmered off polished iron and bronze. Shields, weapons, helmets, and armor were interspersed with wooden ship models and earthenware pots with images of the great battles of the Trojan War painted on them.

The ambassador's collection was all encompassing, but his special interest was ancient weapons. Complete sets of armor were arranged on at least a dozen wooden figures, their arms raised in eternal battle between cases of gold jewelry and other precious objects. The hunter began a careful circuit of the room, his eyes searching the crowd for that one familiar figure.

Iolaus stifled a cry of triumph as he finally recognized the Prince of Troy, his sword drawn against noble Achilles over a detailed model of the fortress of Troy in the center of the room. "Hector! Old buddy, old pal, old friend!" he greeted the model of the long lost hero, barely glancing at the priceless Crown of Hecuba in a nearby case.

Holding his breath, he reached two fingers into the empty scabbard on Hector's hip. As deep as he could reach he felt into the leather pocket. There it was! His fingers closed on a tightly rolled piece of parchment! Ha! Jason owed him a dinar!

Suddenly, he could hear voices through the library door. The Ambassador and the antiquities dealer! Clutching the list of the Black Eagle in his hand, Iolaus dropped to the floor and crawled under the nearest table. Holding his breath, he peeked out from his hiding place as the door closed behind the Ambassador. The golden apple gleamed in the light from a lamp as the Spartan examined it. Iolaus watched as he crossed the room and pulled a lever that was cleverly built into the wooden scroll rack that lined the wall opposite the windows. A narrow section of the rack swung inward with a tiny metallic click, and the avid collector disappeared inside with his new prize.

Clutching the rolled parchment he'd retrieved from the Trojan hero, Iolaus took a deep breath and headed for the door, ducking around the tables and display cases. Timing his moves with the roof guard's patrol, he ran up the two flights of stairs to the third floor and slipped into the sewing room where he paused to slip the parchment into his pouch. He could hear snores still coming from the adjoining bedroom as he crossed to the balcony, patting the mannequin on the butt as he passed.

***

"Hurry up, Iolaus! Hurry up!" Hercules muttered. He clutched the end of the rope tightly in both fists, waiting for the tug that would tell him to lower away. The moon had moved across the alley, and was almost at the opposite wall. If he moved a little to his left, the gap seemed a little wider. Hercules took a step. There was only so far he could go however, before he would run up against a buttress that protruded from the wall. What was taking so long? Maybe he should climb up the rope himself and see what was going on. Maybe Iolaus needed help. He took another step to the left. Time was running out.

"Herc, it's time to go." The demi-god looked down to see Jason standing next to him.

"No, Jason. Look, there's still a little time." Hercules nodded up at the moon as he took another small side step to the left.

Jason looked around at the moon, but shook his head. "Herc, you know the plan. We have to go."

"No!" Hercules lowered his voice at Jason's warning look. "No. We can't leave him." He clenched his jaw in grim determination. "I won't leave him," he whispered. "You go and meet Androcles. We'll catch up to you." His blue eyes glinted as he gripped the escape rope tighter.

Jason's eyes met Hercules's determined gaze. After a brief pause, he nodded. "The Green Dragon," he reminded his friend. "And Arlo's boat is The Dolphin." Putting up his hood, the royal conspirator vanished into the night.

***

The Green Dragon was on a narrow street near the town square. Jason walked quickly through the deserted streets near the embassy, where the leading families of Parthenos were sleeping soundly in their well-upholstered beds. If the second part of the plan worked, the Parthenian Royal Guard would also be sleeping, but not of their own free will. They would never know what had hit them, if Androcles’s potion worked. And when they woke up, Praxos would think the Spartans had turned his own most loyal men against him. If a king can’t trust his own personal guard, he gets very nervous. And nervous men make mistakes.

"Hey, baby, want a good time?" A woman with a grimy shift slipping off one shoulder stepped out of a doorway as Jason entered a street on the far side of the market place. He shook his head and kept walking. These Parthenians were not snuggled warm in their beds. If they even had beds to snuggle into. One more street and he’d be there. The King of Corinth pulled his hood further over his face as he passed groups of men leaving the taverns and beggars sitting on the filthy pavement. He paused a moment at the sight of a little girl cradling an even younger child, huddling in the doorway of a butcher shop to keep out of the way of careless feet stumbling past. Any wedge he could drive between Praxos and the Spartans who supported his domination of this city and its people, he would drive with great satisfaction.

The sign of the Green Dragon hung over the street just past the next intersection. The door was closed and all appeared quiet as Jason approached. Why the king’s guard frequented such a dive he couldn’t begin to imagine. It was probably a hold over from their days as the henchmen of a minor warlord. He entered the dimly lit tavern, smoke from the cheap oil lamps stinging his eyes. No one made a move. Guardsmen sat on the rough benches, their heads cradled in their arms among the wine glasses. One man lay prone on the floor, snoring loudly, but there was no other sound.

"Androcles?" Jason called softly.

A recumbent figure near the kitchen door raised its head. "Here, your mm … sir … Jason," said the young Corinthian.

"Good man!" Jason grasped his aide’s arm in a hearty clasp.

"Where?" Androcles looked around for the others.

"They’ll meet us at the boat," Jason explained shortly. "Let’s do this." He began to search the Parthenians’ clothes, carefully pulling out pockets and pouches and taking any coins he found there, replacing them with Spartan currency. In the captain’s pouch he placed a ring with a black stone. A black stone carved with an eagle.

Meanwhile, Androcles quickly wiped out the doctored glasses and poured fresh wine into them. The Parthenians had accepted the wine without question when Androcles had said it was from a well-wisher. They were used to favors from those who needed access to the king, or who wanted to avoid delays in the shipment of their goods, or searches of their homes or businesses. They had drunk most of the jar, and this wasn’t the first time they had passed out in their cups. But they would be surprised to find the little vial of sleeping drugs where it lay near the wine jar.

In the kitchen, Jason put the coins he’d taken from the guards on the table. The tavern keeper and his servant were slumped in the corner, blissfully unaware of the two men who came through on their way to the alley door. The money might buy them a cure for the terrible headache they would have from the fine Cretan wine the young Spartan had siphoned off from the jar he brought to the royal guard.

"Wait a minute," said Jason as he and Androcles closed the back door of the tavern behind them. He led the way around the corner and back to the door of the butcher shop. The little beggar girl’s jaw dropped as the big man in the cloak dropped two silver coins into her lap as he passed, headed toward the docks.

***

Hercules let the rope out so fast, Iolaus barely had time to catch his breath before he landed in the street.

"Where’s Jason?" he asked as he unfastened the buckles of his harness.

"He’s gone ahead." Hercules tweaked the rope off of the drainpipe. "He had to go meet Androcles. What took you so long, anyway?" The demi-god started coiling up the rope with shaking hands. Iolaus was back outside safely! But they had to hurry now, or they’d both be stuck in Parthenos.

Iolaus looked up at the sky and saw only stars in the space between the buildings. "Herc, you should be at the Green Dragon by now!" he hissed. He took the other end of the rope and began coiling it around his elbow.

"And without me you were going to get out how?" Hercules met Iolaus in the middle of the rope, their elbows touching as they wrapped the last lengths around their arms. "How I ever let you talk me into this …!" Hercules paused.

"Talk you into it! I couldn’t talk you out of it!" Iolaus looked up into Hercules’s blue eyes as they stood together in the silent street. "Thanks, Herc," he said quietly. "For everything. But if you don’t mind, let’s get out of here!" Hercules nodded as he quickly took the coil of rope and hid it under his cloak. Iolaus threw his own cloak over his shoulders and the two co-conspirators headed down the street.

As they passed the main gate to the Spartan embassy, Iolaus glanced through the bars. The new fountain was splashing in the moonlight, but all else was still. Everything looked just as it had an hour ago. But everything was different. The Black Eagle list was safely in his pouch. He’d accomplished the mission he’d set out on so long ago, finally fulfilling his promise to Jason. He was a free man again. The only debt he still owed was the greatest one. He owed his life to Hercules, who had waited in the shadows of Parthenos for his return.

As the two thieves made their way through the narrow warren of streets between the market place and the docks, Iolaus walked quickly, alert for trouble. People were transacting various business on street corners and in doorways, but he ignored them all. The moon was almost down, and the tide would turn just before dawn. They weren’t out of danger yet.

"The Green Dragon is down there," said Hercules suddenly, pointing down a narrow street.

"It’s too late, Herc. Jason and Androcles must be at the docks by now." Iolaus pulled his friend’s cloak as he continued across the intersection. "They apparently were following their instructions," he added dryly.

"But, what if something went wrong?" Hercules protested. "We have to check, Iolaus."

With a sigh, Iolaus admitted to himself that Hercules was right. They were too close to the end to lose anybody now. Without a word, he turned on his heel and headed toward the sign with the faded painting of a fire-breathing dragon. Just as they passed a butcher shop, two guardsmen suddenly emerged from the tavern, and one of them abruptly vomited in the gutter, much to his companion’s amusement.

"Can’t hold it like you used to, Cadmus!" he said, his laugh turning into a groan. He clutched his head with both hands.

"Uh, oh! Looks like Androcles’s potion is wearing off," Iolaus whispered, glancing sideways at Hercules. He began backing away from the very indisposed and very angry Parthenians.

Cadmus stood up, wiping his face with his sleeve. "What’s the matter with you?" he asked the two strangers. "Maybe you’d like a headache, too?"

The Parthenians suddenly ran at the two young men who were watching their misery. Cadmus swung his fist at Hercules, who ducked and quickly kicked the already nauseous man in the stomach. He fell writhing to the pavement as his companion grappled with Iolaus. Although his assailant had height and weight on his side, Iolaus twisted out of his grasp. Keeping a grip on one arm, he twisted the other man around and with a swift kick to his backside pushed him to his knees beside the groaning Cadmus.

He glanced up just in time to see another Parthenian come out of the tavern. "Let’s go!" he cried, running down the street, pushing past the motley crowd of citizens who had gathered to watch the melee. Iolaus ducked into the next street, with Hercules right behind him. A quick left and another right, and they slowed to a walk as they crossed a small courtyard. The docks should be only two streets away.

Suddenly, a strong arm reached out of the darkness and pulled Iolaus into an alley. Before he had time to struggle, his assailant let him go. He turned to swing at the attacker, who fended off his blow with a raised elbow. When he lowered his arm, Iolaus realized it was the King of Corinth.

"Jason! Don’t do that!" cried Iolaus as he recognized his friend.

"Sorry, Iolaus, but it was the quickest way to get your attention!" said Jason, leading the way down the narrow alley. "The Dolphin is just down here. She’s ready to sail. What took you guys so long?"

The four thieves ran between the high blank walls of two warehouses. At the end of the street, they could see lanterns bobbing at the top of masts. The fishing boats and trading ships crowded the docks, separated from the warehouses and chandlers’ shops by a wide paved quay.

"There’s a guard. We’ll have to wait until he’s passed us," whispered Jason, stopping suddenly at the corner of a warehouse that smelled strongly of yesterday’s catch. From the shadows of the alley, they could see the Dolphin waiting at the dock. The crew were moving about on the deck, preparing to sail.

"That’s our getaway ship?" gasped Iolaus, catching his breath.

"What’s wrong with it?" replied Jason.

"It’s so small!" said Iolaus, "Are you sure it will float?"

"It’s been floating for years!"

"That’s just what I mean. Too many years, by the look of it!" He took a deep breath. "By the way, you owe me a dinar," he said quietly.

"I owe you more than that!" Jason put out his hand to take Iolaus’s arm in a firm clasp. "We’ll settle up when we get to Corinth," he promised.

It seemed to take an eternity for the dock patrolman to make his way past their refuge. He stopped to inspect a pile of crates and tried the lock on a large tool chest. Finally he turned the corner around the next warehouse and disappeared from view.

"Come on!" hissed Hercules. He ran across the open loading area, the others hot on his heels. The conspirators clambered up the gangplank and tumbled over the Dolphin’s rail, landing in a heap among the boxes and bales on the deck of the ship.

"Let’s go!" cried Jason even before he had extricated himself from the pile. The others scrambled to their feet as the crew jumped into action at the captain’s command to cast off, and soon the lights of Parthenos were lost to view as they turned past the headland headed east toward Corinth.

Iolaus clutched the rail with cold hands, breathing deeply to calm his stomach and his heart, which seemed to be wrestling with each other as they tried to climb up into his throat. The ship sailed smoothly, the crew high on the mast overhead to set more sail. On this ship he was a passenger, not a galley slave. There were no slaves on this ship. He could get off this boat any time he wanted to. Well, any time they were in port. He looked down at the wine-dark water foaming up against the gunwales. The water still kept him a prisoner.

"Are you okay, Iolaus?" Hercules came up beside his friend, his hands resting lightly on the rail next to the former slave’s white knuckled fingers.

"Yeah." Iolaus took a deep breath. "Yeah, now I am." His shoulders relaxed a little as he stared out across the sea. "We did it, didn’t we, Herc! We got the list!" he said after a pause.

"You did it, you mean," said Hercules. "The rest of us were just following your plan."

"You may remember that my first plan was to walk home!" said Iolaus with a wry smile. "Sailing was definitely Plan B."

"You really should learn how to swim, Iolaus," said the demi-god.

"I don’t think so, Herc. I think I’ll just stay on dry land from now on," said Iolaus.

"Oh, you never know," said Hercules with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "You might fall in love with a mermaid!"

"Oh, yeah! Like that’s going to happen!" Iolaus laughed. "There are plenty of girls with two feet, thank you. And I’d love to meet one as soon as we get back to Corinth!" He stared ahead as the first glimmer of dawn showed at the horizon. "Let’s go home, Herc."

THE END

January 2003

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