Solstice Tales Here are two stories written in response to the December 2005 challenge to describe Iolaus's favorite Solstice gift. The first takes place during our hero's childhood, the second some time after his graduation from Cheiron's Academy. Hunter’s Solstice It was getting darker and colder each day as the year sank to the winter solstice. It was probably snowing in the mountains between Thebes and Macedonia, Iolaus thought as he trudged home from school. His father would not make it home for the holidays. Again. He thought hard and remembered, maybe, when Skouros had been home, but he’d been only a little boy then. As he approached his house, he heard masculine laughter, but his sudden hope of seeing his dad for the Solstice quickly faded when he realized it was his uncle Flatus sharing a joke with his mom. He was her older brother, and kept an eye on them while Skouros was away. “Hey, Iolie, how are you?” cried his uncle as he entered the warm kitchen. “I’m fine, uncle,” replied Iolaus as he dropped his slate on the table. “He’s growing up, Thia,” Flatus observed. “Getting taller every day, eh?” “Not tall enough, uncle,” Iolaus replied halfheartedly. He was still the smallest boy in his class at school, and even some younger boys were taller than he was. “Well, you’re only, what, eleven, twelve? You’ve got time. I was on the short side too, until I was old enough to grow a beard,” said Flatus, twirling his thick black moustache. “Remember that summer I sprouted a foot and whiskers, Thia?” he laughed. “I do remember, and I don’t think you or the whiskers have stopped growing since,” said Erythiea. Flatus was a big man now, and the furs he always wore smelled of the forest and the animals he’d killed on the hunt. The distinctive odor blended with the pungent aroma of the rosemary his sister was rubbing onto the skin of a chicken. “Well, nephew, I think it’s time you came out with me and learned a thing or two about deer,” said Flatus. Iolaus looked at his mother for confirmation of his uncle’s proposal. “You can go hunting, but only with Flatus,” said Erythiea. “You’re too young to go out into the woods alone.” “Oh, Mom,” Iolaus protested. “I already know a lot about hunting. Didn’t I bring you those rabbits last summer?” Flatus had taken him out into the woods a few times and showed him how to recognize the tracks of many animals. He’d told him tales of the creatures’ habits; what they ate and where they slept and how they hunted for their own food. “Yes, and I appreciated them very much,” said his mother. “But your uncle has a bigger idea.” She wiped her hands on her apron and sat down on the arm of Flatus’s chair. “How about going on a hunting trek, Iolaus? We’ll go up into the hills for a week or two and try to bag a couple of stags. What do you say?” Flatus nodded his head encouragingly at the invitation. “You mean, camping?” cried Iolaus. “Out in the woods? Oh, Mom, can I?” Erythiea nodded, her smile reflecting her son’s eagerness. “I think your uncle has something you’ll need for the trip,” she said, pushing Flatus as he was already getting to his feet. Flatus went to the front door and brought a long thin package back into the kitchen. “I think Artemis might have meant this for you,” he said, handing it to Iolaus. Eagerly, the boy unwrapped the red wool cloth that was tied around the bundle. His hands felt something hard and smooth, and as the wrapping fell away, he clutched a bow. A brand new yew bow, with double curves and a leather-wrapped grip in the center of its arc. “String it, string it!” said Flatus, although Iolaus needed little encouragement. He felt the strength of the wood as he bent the bow against his foot, as Flatus had taught him, and slipped the loop at the end of the string over the notch at the top of the arc. It felt good as he pulled the string back to his cheek with the fingers of his right hand, his left hand gripping the center of the graceful arc of wood. “Thank you, uncle!” Iolaus cried. “Now I know I can bag a deer with this!” He plucked a bronze-tipped arrow from the quiver that was still tangled up in the red cloth that had wrapped his gift and laid it into position, pulling it back until the fletching tickled his cheek. “When can we go?” “You can go tomorrow, Iolaus,” said Erythiea. “Flatus is staying here tonight, and you can go as early as you want to.” “I have to pack!” Iolaus cried. He took the bow with him to his small bedroom, barely aware of the laughter of the adults in the kitchen. “I may never see him again, Flatus!” said Erythiea. “Just be careful he doesn’t put his eye out, will you?” “Artemis will protect him, don’t you worry, sister,” said Flatus. “She always looks after her own.” The End
Solstice Legacy It was another cold winter and although the sun was low in the sky at Solstice, it was bright and clear this day. Iolaus would have preferred to stay beside Alcemene’s cozy fire, but after much motherly nagging by his old friend, he was headed to his own mother’s house for a visit. He and Hercules had just arrived back in Thebes the day before, outrunning a blizzard as they came from the north. In the few years since they’d left Cheiron’s Academy they had had some incredible adventures! The village they had just left had celebrated in fine style after they had vanquished a huge serpent that had been preying on the fish in their lake, seriously cutting into the precarious living the fishermen made to support their families. The old farmstead appeared very quiet as he approached the front gate. Perhaps his mother was at her sister Althea’s house, gossiping, and cooking, and fussing over Althea’s grandchildren. Skouros would not be there, of course. Skouros was never home for Soltice. In fact, he hadn’t been home in years. The last time Iolaus had seen his father, he was still a student at the Academy. Skouros had returned to the front of his current war after that visit and Iolaus had not heard from him since. Taking a deep breath, Iolaus pushed open the door and went into his parents’ house. “Hello, Mother,” he said quietly. Erythiea looked up from the fire where she was stirring a large steaming pot. “Iolaus!” she cried, dropping her spoon into the pot. She quickly brushed her hands on her apron as she came to meet him. “It’s been a long time, son!” she said as she gave him a hug. “Where have you been? You look well, are you getting enough to eat? I have a rabbit stew on the fire. Your uncle Flatus brought me a brace yesterday.” “Mother …,” Iolaus tried to stop Erythiea’s stream of talk as she turned back to the hearth. “He doesn’t get out as much as he’d like to any more. His arthritis keeps acting up, especially in this cold weather. Oh, now look what you made me do! I’ve dropped my spoon into the stew.” “Mother,” he tried again. “Hand me that long spoon over there, will you? I’ll just see if I can reach it.” “Mother!” “Yes, Iolaus? You don’t have to shout at me, you know.” She sat down heavily on the nearest chair. “I’m just trying to … trying to ….” She suddenly stopped talking and began to weep. “Oh, listen, Mom, I didn’t mean to shout.” Iolaus went over and put his hand awkwardly on Erythiea’s shoulder. “I just wanted to wish you a Happy Solstice.” He pulled a chair around the table and sat close to his mother. “That’s all right, Iolaus. It’s just, I’ve been so lonely here.” She dabbed her eyes with the hem of her apron. “I’m sorry I’ve been away so long,” Iolaus apologized. “Sometimes Herc and I get pretty far away from Thebes, you know. We have to go where people need help.” “I know, son. I should be used to being alone, being a soldier’s wife all these years.” Erythiea began fussing with some things on the kitchen table. With a start, Iolaus suddenly recognized his father’s scabbard sticking out from under the pile. “Mom, what is all this?” he said abruptly, pulling a tunic off the pile to reveal a bronze helmet. “What’s happened?” he asked, although he was afraid he already knew the answer. Erythiea took the tunic and began folding it. “Your father is dead, Iolaus,” she said simply. “A messenger came from Macedonia with all this. With his things.” She began folding another tunic, well worn and with a ragged hem. “It’s not much, is it?” she said with a sigh. Iolaus got up and began pacing around the kitchen. Skouros was dead. He suddenly and irrationally missed his father. He had not had the opportunity to know the man while he was alive, and now he was gone. Iolaus watched his mother slowly going through the pile of belongings, folding clothes and sorting other items into small piles. “He never gave us much, mother,” he said. “How can you be more lonely now than you ever were?” He tried to control the anger in his voice. “I mean, he couldn’t have been a very good husband, he was never here.” “Some women would say that made him the perfect husband,” she said with a rueful little smile. She sat still and gazed out the window for a long moment before she turned to face her son. “I knew who he was when I married him, Iolaus. I knew that more than anything he needed a home he knew would be there when he needed it.” She put another tunic on the stack. “And he did give me something. Something important. He gave me you, Iolaus, my son.” Iolaus drew Erythiea to her feet and held her in a long embrace, feeling her hands rubbing that place between his shoulder blades as she had done when he was a little boy and came to her for comfort. “There’s something here for you, Iolaus,” his mother said when they finally let go of each other. She began digging through the pile. “Skouros left something for me?” Iolaus asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “He told me when you were born that he wanted you to have this,” Erythiea said, offering him a small bundle wrapped in a blue cloth. Reluctantly, Iolaus took the gift. “What is it?” he asked. The little package was surprisingly heavy. He unwrapped the cloth and found a carved green stone on a leather thong. As he turned it over in his hand, he could see it in his mind’s eye hanging around his father’s neck. “It’s the only thing your father had when I met him, besides the clothes on his back,” said Erythiea. “He said it had belonged to his father, but I don’t know. He was adopted, you know, and I don’t know much about his adoptive parents or his real parents. He never talked about it. But I do know he was never without that stone. And I know he wanted you to have it.” Iolaus turned the stone over in his hands, feeling the smoothly worn edges of the carvings that covered it. He could see again his father reach up to touch the stone as if to reassure himself that it was still there around his neck. “What am I supposed to do with it?” he asked. “Keep it. Give it to your own son.” Erythiea sat with her hands quietly in her lap and looked at her son. “Do you want any of the rest of this?” she asked, nodding at the small pile of Skouros’s personal effects. “No!” Iolaus shook his head. “I don’t want any of it!” “I’ll give the clothes to charity, then,” said Erythiea. She straightened the pile of tunics. “I don’t know what I should do with the sword and other things. I thought maybe I’d give them to Cheiron’s Academy. I think I still owe him a debt for you, your education.” “That’s a good idea, mother,” Iolaus said. “Cheiron can put them to good use.” He turned toward the door. “You’re not leaving? The stew should be ready by now,” said Erythiea, focusing her attention on the mundane affairs of everyday life. “I’ll bring in some more wood for the fire before we eat,” said Iolaus. He needed a reason to get out of the house and breathe some fresh air. He stepped out onto the porch, where he could see the stars bright in the cold night sky, punctuated by a crescent moon. Suddenly, in the distance, he heard the long howl of a lone wolf echoing from the hills. As the desolate cry faded into the night, he put his father’s medallion around his neck, and the green stone soon began to warm against his body. The End
|