Kill with Kindness A story of Iolaus's childhood. "I said no! And that's the end of it!" The boy's shoulders slumped as he turned and left the room. He ran outside into the gathering darkness to hide the tears that filled his bright blue eyes. Skouros banged his fist on the table to dissipate his anger. The boy didn't understand. He was too young, too soft, too likely to be hurt. "Do you have to be so hard on him?" asked Erythiea. "I wouldn't mind having a dog around the place, especially since you'll be gone again." "He's just headed for heartbreak. He'll get attached to it, and then it'll get sick and die, or run away, or get run over by a wagon." The father ran his hand over his face to wipe away the vision of the sadness in the boy's eyes. "He's better off without it." His wife came toward him, but he turned away. "I have to pack. Better leave at first light." He walked into the bedroom alone. Iolaus sat on the wall that divided their place from the road. Why couldn't he have a dog? He could teach it to do tricks, and maybe how to hunt. Uncle Flatus would let him have a dog. He banged his heels against the stones. Why did his father have to be so mean? He sighed as he watched a group of older boys who were hanging around the community well, teasing the girls who came for water. Their fathers weren't so mean. Cradus and his friends could do what ever they wanted to do, whenever they wanted to do it, he just bet. "Iolaus! Supper's ready," his mother called from the kitchen door. Reluctantly, the boy went back into the house. Skouros took his place at the head of the table, and Erythiea put the dish of chicken and cooked vegetables in front of him. Without a word, Skouros filled the plates and passed them to his family. After a few bites, Erythiea said, "Flatus said he'd come over next week to see how things are. He said he'd chop some more firewood." "Uncle Flatus is coming?" cried Iolaus. Erythiea's brother was so much fun, not like Skouros at all. "Do you think he'll take me hunting?" Skouros scowled at the boy's enthusiasm. That fool of a brother-in- law had far too much influence on Iolaus. The boy was much too fond of him. He'd disappear one day too, probably caught in one of his own bear traps. He'd be gone as if he'd vanished into thin air. The vivid memory came back in a sudden rush from the deep corner of his mind where he tried to keep it buried under newer experiences. He was so happy when he found the pretty blue flower for his mother. There was a whole field of them on the edge of the little brook. He knew he wasn't supposed to go that far, but maybe momma wouldn't be mad if he brought her the pretty flower. She wasn't mad. She wasn't anything. She wasn't there. His house wasn't there. The village wasn't there. He'd searched and searched, but they were all gone away. "Skouros? Are you all right?" Erythiea's voice broke through the overpowering memory of blind panic. "I'm fine," he said, pushing his chair back. "I'm fine!" He hoped she believed it. She was a good woman, she put up with a lot. He stood up and went out of the house. It was amazing that his wife had stayed with him. Every time he came back from a war, he dreaded finding the house empty, but she always waited for his return. But the house was hers, after all, a wedding present from her family. And he was able to provide for her with the pay he got from the warlords and kings who hired him to command their troops. It was tough work, but it paid well enough. And she had his boy, his son. His hand went to the green stone medallion on his chest, his fingers tracing the familiar carvings. If it weren't for this solid reminder, he'd think his whole early childhood had been a dream. But it was real. He did have a mother, a home, somewhere. Somewhere. The next morning was crisp with a bite of autumn. Good weather for traveling. Skouros ate some of the bread Erythiea had put on the table, washing it down with a gulp of weak ale. He tied the rest of the bread and some fruit into a bundle and added it to his pack. As he went back into the bedroom to get his helmet, he passed Iolaus's door. He paused, then opened it a crack. The boy lay sprawled across the bed, the blanket half off, trailing on the floor. Skouros drew the red woolen cover up over his son. He was such a pretty boy, with those golden curls. Nobody in Erythiea's family had hair like that. It must be another legacy from his unknown family, like his medallion. A family he'd never know, never see. "Aren't you going to wake him?" Erythiea whispered at his elbow. "No. No, he'd just make a scene." Skouros backed out of the room and closed the door. "I'd better go while he's still asleep." "I'll tell him you'll be back," said Erythiea as her husband collected his pack in the kitchen. Skouros paused at the door. His hand went again to the green stone on his chest. "Don't make promises you can't keep, wife," he said before he turned sharply and walked out to the stable. Erytheia watched from the doorway as he rode out of the gate and disappeared, heading east toward his next command. She would make no promises, but she could always hope. December 2003 |