I Was Born to Sing Your Song

Author's Note: This story is in response to the March 2003 Challenge, which was to use the following list items: a very small dog, a very large amphora, a length of brightly colored ribbon, a bouquet of flowers,and a soggy pair of leather pants.

This is all my father’s idea. I have no idea what I’m supposed to write about, because nothing noteworthy ever happens around here. He said it would be good for me to have an “outlet” to record my feelings and thoughts. But he also thinks I talk too much, and I suspect this is his way of shutting me up for a little bit and getting some peace and quiet. Maybe he’s right. But I have a lot of opinions, and I like to speak my mind. Of course, nobody ever listens to me, since all they see is a little girl when they look at me. I guess I have Dad to thank for that. He’s not very tall, for a man. But he’s a blacksmith, so he’s strong. I asked him once about my mother’s height, and he just laughed and said she was larger than life. He does that a lot, answering in riddles. It drives me crazy sometimes.

I wish I could remember my mother. She died when I was just a baby. That was over 15 years ago, but I know Dad still misses her terribly. When I ask him what she was like, he just tells me to look in the mirror. He tells me that I’m a lot like her, but Uncle Jason always laughs when he hears my father say something like that. He says that the “stubborn streak” didn’t come from her side of the family.

I like Uncle Jason a lot. He’s not my real uncle, but I’ve just always called him that. My dad went to school with him about a hundred years ago, and they are still friends. Sometimes I look around at the other people in my class, wondering if any of them will ever be famous. Jason used to lead the Argonauts and he used to actually be the king of Corinth! But he gave that up to marry a common woman, although he gets mad at me when I use the word “common”. He says there was nothing common about her. I don’t know, for she died a long time before I was born. When I was little, I used to love it when he would visit, because he would always tell me stories about the adventures he’d had and the quests he went on. He claims that he used to be friends with Hercules, back before he became a god. I don’t know if I believe that or not. He doesn’t really tell those stories anymore, since I stopped showing interest in them because I felt I was too old to be regaled with such fancy. But sometimes, I wish he would, even though I always kind of got the feeling my father didn’t really approve.

Dad is harping on me to put down my quill and go to bed. It’s always the way, isn’t it? First he wants me to do this, now he wants me to stop. I’ll indulge him, I suppose. I really wasn’t all that excited when he gave me this bundle of scrolls. Truthfully, I was more taken with the bright red ribbon that bound them. But I have to admit, it is nice to have a place to unburden your soul. These scrolls will listen to me, even if nobody else does. So, I’ll end for tonight, but before I go to bed I’ll have to thank my father once again for a wonderful birthday present. It’s funny, but sometimes I think that he knows me better than I even know myself.

I really hate school. It’s so boring, and I can’t see when I’m ever going to need to know this stuff. But my father keeps telling me that I should be learning everything I can, and that knowledge is power. Whatever. I’ll bet when he was in school he never worked as hard as he makes me work. (I’ll have to remember to ask Uncle Jason about it next time he visits) But, I always come home with good grades, because he would flip out if I didn’t. At least I’m almost done with it. But then I have to figure out what I want to do.

Dad says I can go on to be whatever I want to be. For being old, he really is progressive in a lot of his thinking. He says that he’s known women blacksmiths and farmers and even soldiers. I can just see the look on my teacher’s face if I went in tomorrow saying I wanted to be a soldier. She would drop dead on the spot. I certainly don’t want to spend the rest of my days sweating in the forge, either. What that leaves, I don’t know. I’ll probably just go on and get married and lead a boring old life like my father. But sometimes I feel like I’m meant to be more than that. That I have a destiny out there, but I just haven’t found it yet. I suppose everyone feels like that sometimes.

My dad just came in, and I asked him if he ever thought he was destined to be more than just a blacksmith. He gave me a kind of sad smile, and said his greatest destiny was to be my father. I don’t know just what he meant by that. Sometimes I get the feeling there’s a lot of things he’s not telling me.

He really is a good man, and he’s been a wonderful father to me. He’s always taken care of me, and even though he’s shut up in the forge a lot, he always makes sure we get to spend time together. We used to go hunting and fishing a lot, but when I got older, I wasn’t so keen on that anymore. But we’ll sit out in the garden and talk or take a walk into the village and go shopping in the marketplace. I guess I was wrong before. My father does listen to me, probably more than most fathers listen to their daughters. And I know that he loves me. But sometimes I’ll catch him looking off into the horizon, and he just looks so sad and so lonely and so wistful. I don’t think he’s happy, even though he always has a smile for me.

Dad and I went to the marketplace today. I wandered off when he stopped to look at the swords. He always stops to look at those stupid things, and I can’t ever figure out why, since he made half of them. But he’ll look them over, and run his hands over the blades, and pick them up and hold them. I don’t know why he doesn’t just make himself one, since he’s so enamored of them. But I knew he was going to be awhile, so I went browsing through the other vendor stalls.

I ran into Syretes, who’s in my class at school. He’s kind of quiet and always knows all the answers. Most of the girls think he’s a geek, but I always thought he was nice. We started talking, and he asked me if I wanted to go get a lemonade with him. I told him sure, but I had to let my father know. We both happened to look up and see him at the same time. Dad was standing there across the marketplace with a sword in his hands, glaring daggers in our direction, and poor Syretes couldn’t have beat it any faster than if he’d been wearing Hermes’ winged sandals. Can’t say that I blame him. Dad may not be tall, but he’s full of muscles and when he gets that look on his face... Well, it isn’t a pleasant sight, at all.

Of course, I wasn’t too happy about it and I made sure to let him know. Dad just kind of sighed and got that sad look in his eyes again. He told me that he’d been trying to face the fact that he would one day lose me to the world, ever since the day I was born. And he said that he knew that day was fast approaching, and that he just wanted to hold onto me for a little longer. He always has been a little overprotective of me, but I just can’t ever stay mad at him, especially when he gives me that look. My father has the most expressive eyes of anyone I’ve ever known. Its like you can see right through them into his heart and soul, and I can always tell what he’s thinking. Sometimes I worry about what will happen to him when I eventually do go off to make my own life. I know that I’m all he has. Maybe Jason will finally be able to convince him that he should go and take a position at the Academy. Although I have no idea what he’d do there, unless he was more scholarly than I think.

Some men came to the house today. They went out into the forge and spoke with my father for a long time. I was outside, and I couldn’t hear over the noise of the fire and the bellows, but I do know they kept raising their voices. When they left, they didn’t look happy. Dad took a long, long time to come into the house for dinner. And when he did, he didn’t look happy either. I asked him why the men had come to see him, but he just said they had mistaken him for someone else. Someone who no longer existed. I know he wasn’t telling me everything, but he just looked so intense I decided to let it drop. Maybe he’ll tell me later...

Whatever those men yesterday wanted, they must have really upset my father. He didn’t work in the forge at all today. He just took his bow and went off into the woods early this morning with Hunter. And he just came back a little bit ago, right before dark, with no meat. So I know he wasn’t really hunting, or else he would have brought something home. He went out there to think. Besides, there is no sneaking up on anything in the woods with Hunter around. He was supposed to be my dog, but he ended up more in my father’s care. I’m the one who named him, though. I can still remember that, about six years ago. Dad took me to the Marketplace, and we stopped to look at a box of puppies behind one of the stalls. I immediately fell in love with this little brown ball of fluff. He wasn’t the biggest or the fastest, and certainly not the smartest, but there was just something about him. There was this glint in his eyes, like despite all contrary evidence, he knew he was the pick of the litter and no one was ever going to convince him otherwise.

I was almost in tears, I wanted him so much. Dad just smiled and nodded his head yes. I named him Hunter right then and there, and some of the men milling around got a big kick out of that. Asked me if I was planning on using him for tracking boars. I didn’t quite understand what they meant, but I knew they were insulting my dog. We started for home, with Hunter bounding down the road in front of us. I asked my father if maybe I shouldn’t give him another name. He just scooped me up to ride on his shoulder and told me it was a perfect name. I argued with him, saying that he was too small to ever be a good hunting dog. Dad said physical size didn’t matter, but it was the size of the heart that made all the difference. And sometimes the smallest dogs hid the biggest hearts, and were the fiercest, feistiest, toughest hunters of all. Sadly, that turned out not to be true in Hunter’s case. He is just worthless on the hunt. But Dad and I love the little rascal anyway. What he lacks in other attributes, he more than makes up for in charm. But then again, maybe I’m being too hard on him. He doesn’t like strangers getting too close to me, and he’ll put on quite a display, growling and snarling. It should be comical, this tiny dog trying to be all threatening, but nobody ever laughs. There’s just a deadly seriousness to him, and a hint of danger that belies his size. I guess Dad was right. For I know that Hunter wouldn’t hesitate to attack a boar to protect me, and something tells me that the boar would come out of that tussle with the worst of it.

A ha!!!! I knew it! Uncle Jason came by today, and I asked him what kind of a student my dad was at the Academy. Jason confirmed it for me that all my dad did was goof off and sleep through his classes, and he never took them seriously. Studying was a completely foreign concept. I know that this bit of information won’t get me off the hook with my father in terms of him keeping my nose to the grindstone, but at least I have the satisfaction of knowing I was right!

Something is definitely going on. Dad and Jason were up half the night last night. They do that a lot, but this wasn’t their usual friendly chat over a bottle of wine. They sat at the table and spoke in whispers. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I got the impression that Jason wanted my father to do something, and he didn’t want to do it. I just wish someone would tell me what was happening!

The mystery deepens. My father left this morning. He wouldn’t tell me where he was going, just that he needed to go see an old friend. And what’s more, he pulled a SWORD out of an old chest in the forge and strapped it to his waist before he left. The villagers say that he makes the best swords around, but I didn’t know he knew how to actually use one. This one looked pretty old, and it didn’t have a fancy hilt like the ones he makes. But the way he held it and looked at it, it was like he was glad to see it. Like he missed it. He smiled at it like it was a long lost treasured item. Which I don’t understand, because its presumably been in that chest all this time. But he left in a hurry, so I didn’t have time to ask him any questions. Uncle Jason stayed here with me. He’s trying to pretend that nothing is wrong, but he looks worried. Usually he’ll tell me anything I want to know, but he’s not talking either. I hate being left in the dark...

I kept bugging Jason all day today, but he’s really being tight-lipped. He did admit that there were things about my father’s past that I didn’t know, but that it was for him to tell me. And nothing I did could make him say any more. But, by the gods, am I dying to know what the big secret is. Although I can sort of guess... I mean Dad seemed awful familiar with that sword, and everyone knows that the Academy is where boys go to learn to be warriors.... I wish he’d come home and talk to me. Whatever the truth is, it can’t be any scarier than NOT knowing!

I don’t even know where to start. Dad came home today, and he brought that “old friend’ with him. The “old friend” turned out to be Hercules! THE Hercules, the god. And it is really him, because I saw him lift the anvil out in the forge without even trying. He smiled at me when Dad introduced us, and said that he remembered holding me just hours after I’d been born, and that it seemed like yesterday. And here I am, all grown up. Well, I’ve been waiting for somebody, somewhere to notice that I’m not a kid anymore. Just never in my wildest dreams did I think that someone would be Hercules. He and Dad and Jason were just all laughing and talking like there was nothing surreal about the situation. I can’t believe them!

Dad finally sat me down, saying that there was a lot about his past that he needed to tell me. Like he used to be a great warrior, and was PARTNER to Hercules, back before he became a full god. And that my mother didn’t just die. She was murdered by some warlord seeking revenge on him.

That’s about as far as he got. I couldn’t stand to hear anymore and I took off. I just can’t believe he kept all this from me. I probably shouldn’t have run away, but I just felt so hurt and angry with him. This is my history too, not just his, and I think I deserved to know the truth long before now. Anyway, I set up a campsite here in the woods, and I guess I’m staying out here tonight, since it’s now too dark to walk home. Maybe in the morning I’ll be calm enough to go back home and get the rest of the story. As mad as I am at him, I’m still dying to know what happened. Insatiable curiosity, one more trait I got from my mysterious mother.

Well, I’m back home. Dad found me last night. Jason always said he could track a phantom through the fog. Anyway, he found me, and he apologized for hiding everything from me all this time. And he promised to tell me everything from now on, and that he would answer all my questions. So, we spent the night out in the woods, talking, and he kept his promise.

Like I said before, he and Hercules were partners. They were the greatest warriors Greece had ever known, although in time he kind of fell into Hercules’ shadow and was sort of forgotten. But Hercules and Jason both told me stories of the kind of things he’s done. All the people he saved and the battles he fought. He really was a hero. And he and Hercules, and sometimes Jason, just traveled through Greece, helping people. They killed monsters and fought all kinds of bad men and even battled the gods themselves. Up until the day that Hera finally succeeded in killing Hercules, which had apparently been her life’s ambition.

But the joke was on her. For when the mortal half of Hercules died, he became a full god, who claimed his rightful spot on Olympus and became an even greater champion for mankind. He and my dad still tried to carry on the partnership that they’d had, but it wasn’t the same. Dad was getting older, and he decided to settle down a little and he married my mother. But he still took on the occasional monster or warlord, up until I was born. I was just a few months old, and one of the warlords he’d defeated broke out of prison and came after him. And found my mother, instead. Dad kind of skipped through this part quickly, but I got the impression that the man didn’t just kill her, but did much more brutal things to “send the message” to him. Even after all these years, telling the story still upset him, so I didn’t make him go into detail.

Dad came home to find my mother dead, and me crying in a chest, where she had hidden me just before the man broke into the house. He swore vengeance, and he tracked down the warlord and killed him. But after that, he put his sword away and vowed to say goodbye to his old life. He became a full time blacksmith, and devoted himself to me, turning his back on the man who he had been before.

He had also said goodbye to Hercules. They both decided they couldn’t risk an association anymore, for there were too many “lowlifes”, both mortals and gods, who wouldn’t hesitate to use such ties to their advantage. Dad said that he just wasn’t willing to risk my safety anymore, and Hercules understood, for he had already lost so many due to the vengeance of the gods. They still saw each other now and then throughout the years, but the meetings were rare and brief.

And things went on that way. Dad was just a great blacksmith, and most everyone forgot about his warrior past. He spent his days in the forge, or out hunting and fishing, or with me. Even though he admitted he missed the old days sometimes, and missed Hercules terribly, he was content. He said that I was his pride and joy and that I was worth any sacrifices he had to make, and then some. And that he’d vowed to devote himself to protecting me and keeping me safe, giving me all I desired, making sure I was happy and seeing to it that I would never be harmed in any way by the ghosts of his past.

Well, after hearing about everything he gave up for me, I of course couldn’t be mad at him anymore, and I felt ashamed for the way I had acted. I hugged him and told him how much I loved him, and I ended up falling asleep like that, out in the woods next to the fire, with him holding me tight in his arms.

We came back home this morning, and he filled me in on the rest of the story. There is big trouble brewing from a man named Eurystheus. It has something to do with a prophecy Zeus made long ago, about one descended from his blood who would rule all. He didn’t mean Eurystheus, but I guess Hera intervened somehow so that he met the prediction. I’m really starting to understand just why my father gets that disgusted look every time her name is mentioned, saying that she chafes him worse than a soggy pair of leather pants. Anyway, Eurystheus’ time has apparently dawned. He’s come out of the Peloponnese and is sweeping his way across Greece, conquering as he goes and growing more powerful with each passing day. Since he is descended from the gods, Hercules isn’t able to get involved. I think Ares may also be backing him, from something Hercules muttered, but I don’t think that particular comment was really meant for my ears. It won’t be long before Eurystheus attacks Corinth, and if she falls then Thebes will be next. And, somehow, my father seems to be everyone’s last hope to stop him.

I spent some time alone with Hercules today. That looks so bizarre to see that in writing. I still can’t believe it. Me, hanging out with Greece’s most legendary hero and benevolent god. No one at school will ever believe this one. It’s so unreal, and yet, there’s something about Hercules that makes you forget all those stories. He is real, there’s no doubt about it. And he’s very kind, and compassionate, and a good listener. Real easy to talk to, just like a regular person. He sure doesn’t act like a god. Not that I’ve ever met any to compare, but I’m sure the rest of them aren’t as humble as he is.

We went out to the field behind the house, and he just sat there on a stump, watching me pick some wildflowers to make a bouquet, a little smile on his lips. I finally had to ask him just why everyone seemed to think that my father was the one to defeat this Eurystheus, when they doubted the entire Corinthian army could repel him. Sure, my dad is strong for his age, but I just couldn’t understand how anyone would consider him a match for a power crazed madman with divine blood and the power of Ares behind him.

Hercules was quiet for a long, long time, and I didn’t think he was going to answer me. When he finally did, there were tears in his eyes, and his soft voice trembled with the force of the conviction behind it. He told me that in all his time, both as a demigod on earth and a full god on Olympus, he had never come across anyone who could even compare to my father. He said that Dad was one of the greatest warriors that there had ever been, his skills largely unmatched. And when they were, then he compensated by being quicker and craftier than his opponent. His determination and his energy were both limitless, and he never, ever gave up, no matter how dire the circumstances. He could improvise on a dinar, his instincts were impeccable, and he knew no fear. All in all, the two of them together made for an unstoppable team, and although he was often jilted in the glory, Dad definitely added a vital contribution.

Hercules went on to talk about how brave and selfless and loving my father was, loyal to a fault sometimes, but that he was honored and privileged and beyond grateful to have had him as a partner all of those years. It was wild to hear the great Hercules raving about my father. I guess its not really my fault, since he never told me anything about his past, but I can’t help feeling a little guilty for having misjudged him all my life. For never having seen all of this inside of him. And for never realizing that the little dog had a heart that was bigger than the Parthenon.

I ambushed my father in his forge today and asked him what he was going to do. He said he wasn’t sure. I hugged him and told him that there was a lot more than me at stake now, and he needed to put aside any fears about my safety. Dad kind of sighed and said there was more to it than just that. Not in so many words, but he basically admitted that he had left that life a long time ago, and wasn’t sure he could pick it back up again, even if he wanted to. Too many years without a fight had left him rusty, and too many years in general had left him old. There was a loud snort behind us, and we both turned to see Hercules leaning against the doorway of the forge. Without a word, he picked up a sword from the rack and tossed it to my father. Dad caught it effortlessly. Hercules grabbed one for himself and beckoned us outside. My dad seemed a little hesitant at first, but Hercules didn’t give him much of a chance, attacking him as soon as he stepped out of the forge. Well, I watched them spar back and forth for almost an hour, and I didn’t see any rust or age. My father was magnificent with that blade, even better than Hercules! When they finally quit, he was frowning a little. He muttered something about how he could have done better with his own sword. Well, I sure didn’t notice anything off, and from the giant grin he sported, neither could Hercules.

When Dad went over to the rain barrel to splash some water on his face, I followed him. I told him that Hercules and Jason, and obviously a few others, believed that he could defeat Eurystheus. And if they all had that much faith in him, than it had to be true. He asked me what I thought, and I honestly told him that I didn’t think Eurystheus stood a chance. Dad just laughed, and said that with me in his cheering section, he couldn’t fail. So I asked him if that meant he was going to go after Eurystheus. Dad said that he had to, because Eurystheus had to be stopped. He still wasn’t convinced that he was the one to do it, but he was willing to try. I wish he had just a little of the faith in himself that everyone around him has in him. But Hercules said that didn’t matter. If my father said he was going to do it, then he would do it. Failure had never been an option for him.

We left our village this morning and started for Corinth. Hercules, Jason, Dad, and I. And Hunter, for neither Dad nor I could bear to leave him behind. We traveled hard all day, only stopping to make camp right before it got dark. This is the farthest away from home I’ve ever been. It’s a little bit scary, but mostly it’s exciting. Dad and the uncles are making it into a big adventure, and I know there’s nothing to be afraid of with all of them around.

It’s funny. Hercules is a god, but he’s right here with us. I would have thought he could just snap his fingers and have a fire going and food laid out. But he built a fire the old fashioned way and he and Jason and my father all went down to a little stream nearby and tossed their lines in. I suppose that maybe he misses the days when he and Dad used to live like this. It’s obvious my father does.

Oh, I know that my dad loves me, and I believe him when he says that he doesn’t regret giving everything up to raise me. But since Hercules has been here, he’s been like a whole new person. There’s a light in his eyes that was never there before. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. It’s plain to see that Hercules and my father were more than just partners. More than best friends. They just... belong together. And even though I understand why Dad gave that up, it breaks my heart that he felt he had to.

I’m looking at them now, sitting together on the other side of the fire and bickering about something my father allegedly did forty years ago. Even after so much time apart, there’s no awkwardness between them. I can’t help but smile to see them, and as I glance over at Jason, I can see that he’s doing the same thing. Sitting there, just watching the two of them, with a smile. I don’t know what’s going to happen when this is all over, but I have a feeling Hercules is going to be a part of our lives from now on. I just don’t think they are going to be able to say goodbye again. For if ever there were two people born of one soul, it’s my father, and Hercules.

Wow, Corinth is amazing! It’s so big and hectic. Ships are sailing in from all over the world every day, and the marketplace is just filled with all these exotic people, and spices and perfumes and fruits and just anything you could imagine.

But the best part is that we’re staying right in the castle. King Iphicles is Hercules’ half brother, and Jason’s successor to the throne. Hercules just told me today that the woman Jason gave up his crown to marry was his and Iphicles’ mother. Just when I thought I’d heard it all and nothing else could throw me...

The king is very nice, and he’s given me everything I could want, along with a lot of other things I never would have thought to ask for. I feel like a princess here, and I think I could definitely get used to the royal life! It would all be a fairy tale, except for the gravity of the task at hand. Two scouts returned this morning to report that Eurystheus was advancing quickly, and that he and his army would be upon us in a matter of days. Dad’s been shut up with Iphicles, going over battle strategies. Hercules has been drilling the Corinthian soldiers, and Jason went back to the Academy to summon the cadets, who are going to act as a final, backup defense in the chance that Corinth’s walls are breeched. I’m starting to get scared. I used to think that I was my dad’s whole world, but I’m just now realizing that he is my whole world, too. I don’t know what I’d ever do without him, and the thought of losing him... Well, I can’t even bear to think about it. I really want to have faith in him, and I do, but I can’t help thinking what if something goes wrong? And that’s a terrifying ‘what if’.

Eurystheus is almost here. In the morning, my father is going to lead the Corinthian army to the big meadow outside of the city to intercept him. He wanted me to stay here in the castle where I’d be safe, but I fought him long and hard on that one. Dad only agreed that I could go when Hercules promised him that he would protect me. We’re going to watch from the rise overlooking the valley, which would give me plenty of time to get away if Eurystheus emerges the victor, even if I wasn’t going to be in the company of an all powerful god.

I was starting to think that my father had forgotten about me, but he came to me tonight and we spent some time alone together. As much as I wanted to be strong and not make this any harder on him than it already is, I couldn’t help crying. I know why he’s doing this, and I’m so proud of him, but the selfish part of me wishes he wouldn’t. He may be hero to the world, but he’s my dad, and now I realize that I never needed or wanted him to be anything more than that. My whole life, he’s been there to take care of me and guide me, teach me and comfort me, and love me. I wish it hadn’t taken the prospect of losing him to make me see it, but he’s always been my hero.

I know he hates doing this to me, even though he went on to talk about the greater good, and how one life can’t compare to thousands. I’m not entirely sure if he truly believed that, though. I asked him to swear that he would make it back to me, and he said that he couldn’t do that, for it was in the fates’ hands. But he promised to do everything within his power, and he hugged me tight and told me that never before had he ever had such a strong motivation to succeed.

It’s late now, and dawn is only a few hours away. I certainly can’t sleep, and I’m sure that there are many having the same problem within these castle walls tonight. As much as I’m dreading the battle tomorrow, I wish it were here, and then at least the agonizing wait would be over, and the fickle hand of the fates would be known.

Hercules is forbidden to directly interfere with this situation, but he had one more trick up his sleeve. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, but this morning, before we left the castle, he gifted my father with one day of youth. Dad has always looked good for his age, but transformed into a man in his prime, he really is a sight to behold! He became leaner, less muscled, but he still radiated power and strength. The wrinkles faded from his face, his blue eyes became bright and clear, and the gray left his hair until it shone with all the fury of Apollo’s golden sun. He became a familiar stranger to me, but he was obviously delighted with the change, and I think Hercules was too.

Watching this man, a younger version of my father, preparing his troops to head out was a very strange experience, but I think once I get over the shock, I’ll be glad that I got to see it. If I ever had any lingering doubts about the stories I’ve heard in recent days about the warrior that my stodgy old Dad had once been, seeing him like this obliterated them completely. He was just bursting with energy, but with the restraint of experience, and he walked with the quiet confidence of a man who was secure both in his cause, and in the skills he possessed to defend it. I could see he was a natural leader, for the soldiers automatically followed his lead, and he effortlessly transferred his focus and determination and courage to them. But even as he laughed and joked with the men, I could sense a hint of danger in him, and I’m not sure I liked it.

We left the walls of Corinth to make our way to the battle site, and I still couldn’t take my eyes off my father as he boldly strode forward in front of his men. If he was afraid at all, I sure couldn’t tell. By anybody’s standards, he’s not a big man, and in fact he was dwarfed by almost every other person there. But there was something about him today, in his attitude, that made him seem a giant. He might not have had size in his favor, but the sheer power and strength of his heart and spirit was enough to make him formidable, and even invincible. I can only hope that there is something more to that than just an illusion.

When it came time for Hercules and I to detour off and head up to the ridge, Dad sent the troops on ahead. I know how much he didn’t want me there, didn’t want me to have to watch what was about to happen. But his trust in Hercules was absolute, and he knew I’d be safe, and I think he understood just why I needed to be there. He told me that he knew that I’d been blindsided by all of this, and it was a lot to ask anyone to deal with, but he was proud of the way I’d been handling everything. And he apologized for not being there for me more, but promised that when it was all over, we could talk it over and he’d do his best to help me understand and cope with it all. I couldn’t say anything, for it was all I could do to hold back the tears, and I didn’t want him to have to worry about me on top of everything else. So I just fell into his arms and he held me tight and told me that whatever happened, I should never forget just how much he loved me and never doubt the happiness and joy I’d brought into his life.

He turned to Hercules then, and the two of them walked away a few paces, talking quietly. I didn’t mind, for it gave me the chance to try and get a grip on myself. They spoke for quite a length, facing each other, two sets of somber blue eyes locked into each other. Then Dad said something and grinned, and although Hercules tried not to, he laughed in spite of himself. They hugged, and for a minute I didn’t think they were ever going to let go. But my father finally stepped back, and he and Hercules clasped each other’s gauntlets before they parted. Dad glanced back, giving me a smile and a little wave, and then he was gone, loping off down the road to catch up with the soldiers.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and I broke down sobbing, so afraid that he wouldn’t be coming back. Hercules hugged me and comforted me, but he didn’t try to promise me something that he had no control over. When I calmed down, he took my hand and we climbed up to the ridge.

That’s where I am now. Sitting here, looking down at the army below, just able to make out my father, pacing restlessly at the head of his troops. We can see Eurystheus in the distance, a cloud of dust rising behind his army to ominously darken the blue sky. They are approaching fast, and the battle will soon be underway. I feel sick, not wanting to watch, but not able to look away, either. Hercules looks the way I feel. As hard as it is for me to sit here and watch the drama unfold below, I suspect it’s a hundred times harder for him. Once a warrior himself, now a god with powers he is not allowed to use, I can only guess at how frustrated and helpless he must feel, having to sit up here with me and merely watch his former partner undertake this epic battle alone, with no one to watch his back. And I can imagine how hard it must be for Jason, waiting back in Corinth with the cadets, not knowing what’s going on. Not to mention my poor father, bearing the burden of knowing he’s the only one who can stop Eurystheus, and if he fails, all of Greece will fall. Although from what I’ve seen recently, I’d wager the bigger failure for him would be in letting all of us, especially Hercules, down. I wish I would have thought to tell him that no matter what the outcome, he made me proud. Now I can only plead with the fates that I’ll still have that chance.

Dad gave the signal to charge as soon as Eurystheus’ army starting pouring over the last rise. It was immediately apparent that the Corinthians were outnumbered, but they didn’t hesitate. They ran to meet the invaders, and the battle was on. What had minutes before been a peaceful afternoon immediately descended into a raging war. The air was heavy with the clashing of swords, the shouting of soldiers and the screams of wounded and dying men. Even from our vantage point, we could smell the scent of blood. And the scene below quickly turned into a swirling, chaotic tumble of bodies, where I quickly lost track of my father.

Hercules must have lost him, too, for he opened a sort of window right there in front of us that allowed us to focus in on my dad, fighting so fiercely down below. He was moving faster than I thought humanly possible, his sword flashing briefly in the air as he whirled and spun and mowed through the hordes of men. No one could touch him, and he took out two of his foes for every one that his soldiers dispatched. He was an unstoppable golden whirlwind, until he finally came face to face with Eurystheus.

I would have guessed who he was before Hercules told me. He was a great, hulking beast of a man, with a cruel smile and dark eyes that glinted with power crazed madness. My dad circled around him warily, looking him up and down, his face an unreadable mask. He’d always been so open, it was strange to see him so neutral, his eyes cold and blank, but I imagine he was trying to prevent Eurystheus from reading his mind and anticipating his moves.

They remained like that for what seemed like hours, tensed and poised, but neither one wanting to commit. Finally, my father attacked, and Eurystheus immediately repelled him and made his own advance. He kept coming, and Dad was just barely holding him off. Just as I was about to panic, Hercules told me that my father was doing that on purpose, trying to get a feel for his opponent’s fighting style so that he would know how to proceed. He would have been more convincing if he hadn’t looked so scared. Eurystheus attacked again, managing to sweep Dad’s feet out from under him. He landed hard on his back, and rolled out of the way just in the nick of time to avoid a sword plunged into his chest. Springing to his feet, my father launched himself at Eurystheus, catching him off guard and becoming the aggressor, rather than the defender.

Hercules and I watched as they fought furiously, both holding their own, as we held onto each other, holding our breath. They were both highly skilled swordsmen, but where Eurystheus was stronger, my father was faster and more agile. It was an even match, and for awhile it seemed that the battle would be a draw. But it was Eurystheus who drew first blood. Dad didn’t quite get clear of a wild slash and the blade bit into his left arm. I gasped in horror and I felt Hercules stiffen beside me, but my father didn’t miss a beat.

Ignoring the blood trickling from his bicep, he grasped his sword tighter and turned to face Eurystheus. His eyes were no longer masked, but instead blazed with fire and determination. He attacked, his sword flying with dizzying speed, until he sent Eurystheus’ blade skittering from his hands across the ground. Two hard punches and an explosive kick knocked the man down, and my father was a fearsome sight to behold as he stood over his fallen enemy, sword pointed at his heart, panting only a bit as he ordered him to surrender. When Eurystheus refused, Dad raised the tip of his sword up until it was just barely pressing into his throat and repeated his order more firmly. With lightening speed, Eurystheus pulled a small dagger from his belt and threw it straight at my father’s face. I really hope his death wasn’t instantaneous, for I’d like to think his dying image was of my dad catching the dagger in midair, a fraction of a second after his sword hit its mark.

The window closed, and Hercules took my hand and we began running back down the ridge to the valley below. By the time we got down there, all of Eurystheus’ remaining men had either been captured, or they were retreating back into the hills. There were wounded and dead everywhere, but I scarcely noticed them as I followed Hercules as he plowed through the crowd, shoving soldiers out of the way until he came to my father. Dad just laughed as the god grabbed him in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground. There were tears of relief in Hercules’ eyes, but he was just beaming with pride and admiration, and the look on my father’s face in response to that was one I will never, ever forget.

Reading back over these old scrolls, I just have to shake my head and laugh at how silly and naive I was then. Was it really only ten years ago? It feels like a lifetime. I can’t believe my father actually kept them, but I found them this morning, tied up with a tattered red ribbon and hidden in the bottom of the amphora that he’d been presented with after the defeat of Eurystheus. Upon our triumphant return to Corinth after that fateful day, my father was immediately hailed a hero and King Iphicles wasted no time in arranging a massive celebration in his honor. There were feasts and speeches and reenacted dramas, and Iphicles commissioned a statue to be build of my dad, as a reminder of all that he’d risked to save Corinth, not to mention Greece. And he gave my father a large Panathenaic amphora, the black figure paintings on the sides telling the story of his fight with Eurystheus.

Well, after all that had happened, there was no way we could go on with our old lives. Dad’s glory may have been fleeting in the old days, but Greece was not about to forget him this time. He was honored and celebrated as a hero everywhere he went, his instant fame making anonymity an impossibility. I guess I didn’t help the situation any.

I had let Hercules read my scrolls, and he’d been impressed, saying that I had talent and I should think about becoming a bard. Since I didn’t have any other immediate prospects, I decided I might as well try my hand at it, and I found it suited me pretty well. I started traveling the country, telling my tales and picking up a few dinars along the way, earning more as I grew better and more confident, garnering experience and a reputation. My father accompanied me those first few years, saying that he missed life out on the road, although I’m sure he just wanted to protect me, uneasy with the prospect of me wandering around on my own. I didn’t mind, since it gave us a lot of time to talk. He told me everything about his past and I heard firsthand his account of all his old adventures, which I immediately parlayed into my repertoire of tales, determined that his part was not going to be left out of the legendary journeys of the mighty Hercules. And, my dear old dad managed to get himself into enough trouble to provide me with a few new adventures to tell, too. Hercules said he always attracted trouble like flowers attracted bees, and I soon learned that he was right. But he couldn’t help it, as it was just the hero in him, not allowing him to walk away from someone needing his help.

As for Hercules, he joined us whenever he could. I was always glad to have him around, and that goes without saying for my father. He was just more alive when he was with Hercules, and I think that went both ways. It was an exciting time for us all, filled with a lot of laughter and joking, but especially love.

Until a few years ago, when my father admitted that he was getting tired. He left the life on the road and returned home, for good. I kept traveling, spreading my heroic tales for the masses, although it was a lonely life without my dad there beside me. Hercules split his time between us, for I’m sure he promised my father that he’d watch over me, and naturally I made him promise me that he’d let me know how Dad was doing. A couple weeks ago he came to me to tell me that my father wasn’t well, and that I might want to think about coming home.

Of course, I left right away. The old village hadn’t changed much, but sadly I couldn’t say the same for my father. He looked so old and frail, that it broke my heart. Clearly his time was running out, but he was so happy to have both Hercules and I there with him. I couldn’t stand to see him like that, and I begged Hercules to do something, but he just said he couldn’t interfere with the will of the fates. Looking back, I should have realized that he was reacting way too calmly to the situation, but at the time I was too upset to notice.

Dad passed away quietly the following night. Hercules hugged me and told me not to cry, for it was a necessary part of the process. When I asked him what he was talking about, he nodded toward my father, saying that he had to die in order to be reborn. Bright pinpricks of light were falling from the ceiling, landing on my dad’s body and engulfing him in a golden glow. Before my eyes, the pallor of death faded away, as did the marks of the passing years. In a matter of moments, the light faded away and my father sat up, looking just as he did the day he fought Eurystheus.

We don’t understand it, and I’m not even sure Hercules does, either. But he said it had something to do with the faith of the people of Greece. Apparently, the power of the gods is tied to the mortals that worship them. And ever since that day that my father, magically restored to youth, fought and vanquished Eurystheus, the people of Thebes and Corinth have been worshiping him as a god. Their convictions were so strong, they began to spread throughout other provinces, and Dad managed to pick himself up so many admirers that it was made so upon his death.

So Hercules says. Honestly, I suspect he might have had a little more to do with it than he’s letting on. Dad is still in shock, I think, but he’s still as irrepressible as ever, so he’s been adjusting well. His powers are very limited, but he is immortal and forever safe from the hands of the other gods. I know he’ll be fine, once he gets used to the idea. After all, he and Hercules can be partners once again, and they’ll be together forever. As it should be.

As for me, well, nothing really surprises me anymore where my father is concerned. After traveling the country for ten years, I can say with the utmost confidence that I agree with Hercules. There is just no one else that can compare with my dad. A spirit like his deserves to live on forever, and now he will, because people loved him too much to let him die.

And now I’m going to take this new scroll and add it to the others, tie them up with that old red ribbon and hide them back inside the amphora, for this tale has come full circle. It’s a popular one with the tavern crowds, for they all love to hear the story of how brave Iolaus of Thebes defied all the odds to defeat the mighty Eurystheus and become the savior of Greece. But for me its so much more than a mere legend, and bard or not, there just aren’t words to describe the feelings that well up inside me when I think about the events of that long ago spring. Events that I thought were over, but that have really only just concluded. And after it all, what I’m left with is a sense of warmth and security and happiness. Because I know I’ll never have to say goodbye to the man that was the hero of Greece second, and my father first and foremost. And I know that Dad will be happy, doing what he loves with his cherished partner. But mostly, I have such hope for Greece, for with the immortal team of Iolaus and Hercules guarding her, I’m quite certain that any evil that would dare raise its ugly head will find itself promptly ground back down into the dirt. And Greece will know about it, because I’ll be there in the front row of the cheering section, taking notes. For as long as I’m alive, this legend will live on.

Finis

Disclaimer: No one was harmed during the writing of this story, although a few ancient myths were maimed a bit.

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