"So you're Hercules." Ettian led the way to the buildings at the back of the temple, his long robe fluttering in the soft breeze that brushed the compound. The man concerned smiled a little self depreciatingly.

"All my life," he shrugged. He should be used to the way people reacted to his name by now. After all, he’d earned his reputation, even if the storytellers had a habit of ridiculously exaggerating both his exploits and his abilities. Since he was the son of Zeus, he could never quite understand why it was such a big deal; knowing the way his relatives behaved he tended to think of his inheritance as more of a liability than an asset.

"Well, don't take offence, but - you're not exactly what I would have expected."

The smile took on a wry twist. "You mean I'm not twelve feet tall and chewing the scenery? Don't believe everything you hear. Most of it's exaggeration anyway."

"Most of it?" The priest gave him a measured look. "Okay. So - uh - if I ask if you ran into any trouble getting here …?"

Any trouble? Hercules chuckled at the thought, recalling Iolaus' expression as the leader of the brigands called him a runt. "None worth mentioning," he said, earning himself a slightly sceptical frown. "Should I have done? I'd always heard this valley was a peaceful place."

"It is." Ettian pulled a heavy key from beneath his robe and used it to unlock the sturdy door they'd stopped in front of. "Nobody bothers much with us - we're prosperous, but we're not wealthy. Our riches grow in our fields, rather than in our coffers." He reluctantly let a smile crease his features - an expression that helped served to confirm his relationship with the old man they'd just left. "My grandfather's fault, I suppose. The valley used to be little more than wilderness until he built the temple here. Now we support seven villages. Little villages," he amended with a long-suffering sigh. "Although the way people talk you'd think each of them was as big and important as Athens."

Hercules smiled as he manoeuvred the chest through the low, narrow doorway. "I guess that's true of a lot of places," he said, dumping the container onto the table that Ettian indicated. "But maybe - here - they've reason to be proud. It's beautiful country, and it's quiet, peaceful … " He let the smile take on a slightly haunted note. "I just came from peace negotiations in a warzone. If there is any trouble around here it's likely to be a rest cure."

"Don't be so sure of that." Ettian considered gloomily. "People - and animals - have been vanishing. There really is something lurking down by the lake. Something sinister. Something monstrous."

His emphasis was meant to be dramatic. It made Hercules laugh. "Monsters I can cope with," he grinned. "Is this going to be safe here?"

The priest was giving him a very doubtful look. "I think so," he decided, shaking his head and getting back to the matter in hand. He dragged a length of embroidered cloth out of a nearby box and used it to blanket the chest, draping it so that what lay beneath was not immediately obvious. "We used to keep the elixir in here. That was safe enough. Of course," he added ruefully, "nobody in his or her right mind would have stolen that. Gifts of the gods," he added, by way of explanation. "More trouble than they're worth."

"You can say that again," Hercules muttered, stepping back to let the man exit ahead of him. "You mentioned this - elixir - before. I take it Demeter's last gift was a little - hazardous to use?"

"Hazardous!" Ettian snorted. "Downright dangerous, I'd say. She sent us a vial of the Elixir of Abundance. One drop stirred into a whole cart-full of feed would turn a sickly herd into the strongest, healthiest animals you ever saw. One drop. Huh!" He jerked his thumb towards the back of the buildings, indicating the sway of tree tops that shadowed the angled roofs. "Grandfather spilt a little back there. That used to be our rhubarb patch."

Hercules looked up - and looked up, taking in the canopy of leaves and the thick stems that supported them. What had looked like a grove of trees from a distance was, in fact, a huge clump of rhubarb, each leaf a good six or seven feet across and held up by stems as thick as a man's waist. "Ah," he registered, finally understanding the problem. Something that powerful should never have been put into mortal hands.

"Exactly." The priest sighed, scrubbing his hand through his greying hair. "She meant well, but - that stuff was just too risky to have around. We were giving it to our sheep and cattle - and they were being eaten by our women and children … We'd have been a race of giants in no time. I had to get rid of it."

Hercules frowned. "You didn't - put it into the lake, did you?" he asked worriedly. It was Ettian's turn to laugh.

"Hardly. I prefer fish dinners to being dinner for fish. I buried it. Deep. Where it couldn't do any harm. Besides, that was a couple of years ago. I doubt it has anything to do with our current problem."

Monsters.

Hercules sighed softly to himself as he strode down the hillside, heading for the valley floor and the lake beyond. He'd been right. This idyllic landscape was too good to be true. Somewhere out there lurked a menace that threatened the whole valley - and he was going to have to deal with it before anybody else disappeared, never to be seen again.

She could have just told me …

That was the trouble with his relatives. They dropped hints, made veiled remarks or offered up riddles - but they hardly ever came straight out and said - 'Hey, Hercules. There's this little problem I need you to sort out …'

He sighed a second time, glancing back to where the temple lay, warm and mellow under the midday sun. Ettian hadn't been able to give him any real information; his tales of vanished villagers and fishermen, along with his vague concerns over not going to the lake, hadn't really been a lot of help. People vanished every day, for all sorts of reasons, very few of which had anything to do with unidentified monsters. Nor had Hercules any intention of taking on - whatever it was - alone. Not when one of the best hunters and trackers in the whole of Greece would be sauntering in his direction any moment.

Guess Iolaus will have to wait a little longer for his fishing trip …

He didn't think his friend would be too upset about that. Monster hunting was one of their fortes and - while he might occasionally protest about being the most logical choice for bait - Iolaus thrived on the challenges it presented. Perhaps this wasn't quite what they'd intended when they'd talked about taking a vacation, but it would still be a refreshing change from wrestling with diplomatic tensions and short tempered mercenaries.

"Ah - excuse me?" The unexpected voice came from his right. He turned, to find a harassed looking woman hurrying towards him across the wheat field that lay alongside the track. Quite a handsome woman too, despite her homespun clothing and the way her hair was trying to escape from beneath her head scarf. There was a smallholding on the other side of the field, tucked into the shade of a small grove of olive trees; she'd obviously seen him coming down the hill and had hastened out to intercept him.

"Hi," he greeted her. His welcoming smile dropped into an immediate frown as he registered her anxious state. "Something wrong?"

"Oh, I hope not," she answered, glancing around as she spoke, clearly searching for something - or someone. "I'm looking for my son. Have you seen him? He's about - this tall, dark hair, brown eyes … He's wearing a red, russetty jerkin and -" she grimaced embarrassedly, "- his old pants with the patches. Dark green," she added with a sudden memory of detail. "The patches. From his father's old coat."

"Oh - yeah," He acknowledged the irrelevant explanation with knowing sympathy. "No - I ah, haven't seen anyone. Would he have been at the temple? I was just up there and - "

"No," she interrupted, reaching to sweep an unruly lock of hair out of her eyes. Her hands were covered with flour; they left a smudge on both cheek and nose. "No - he went out to play, I … I called him to come and watch the baby, but - but he didn't answer me. I think he went down to the stream - he's a place down there he likes to … well, I told him not go too far. He's just a boy, you know? Head in the clouds - I - "

"Hey." Hercules reached to catch her shoulder, steadying her in her distress. He could understand her concern; this might not have anything to do with Ettian's dire warnings, but until the boy was found … "He's probably just wandered off somewhere. I could help you look for him, if you want. I'm just - waiting for my partner to come back from Ytarsia."

"Would you?" Her relief was almost tangible. "Oh, thank you. Thank you. I - I have to get back to the baby. Lathius - my husband - he'll be home shortly, but - if you could look for Timeon, I'd be really, really grateful."

He grinned, a little embarrassed at her effusiveness. "That's okay. I'll be happy to find him for you. Uh - " He took a half step forward, then paused, remembering that Iolaus had to be warned about not heading straight for the lake. "If you see my friend go by? Tell him to stop and wait for me, will you?"

"Of course." She was willing to do anything to express her gratitude; this obviously seemed a very minor request. "How will I - ?"

"Oh - ah," Hercules hesitated, considering how best to describe his friend in a few short words. "He's - umm - this tall," he began, echoing both the woman's earlier gesture and the description that went with it. "Blond hair, blue eyes …" He grinned, completing the symmetry with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. "He's wearing a purplish jerkin and - uh - his pants have patches too."

"Green ones?" she queried, returning the grin with one of her own. He laughed.

"No, brown. Look - ah - it shouldn't take me that long to find your son. I'm sure we'll both be back long before Iolaus arrives. Don't worry," he added, seeing her face begin to crease with exactly that emotion. "Timeon's fine. I promise."

"Fishing poles? No - don't' get any call for those these days. Hey, Phillius?" The burly shop keeper twisted round and bellowed demandingly towards the back of his shop. "We got any o'them sapling lengths left from the spring planting? One of them'd make a decent fishing pole I reckon," he continued in a more normal tone, returning his attention to his customer. Iolaus smiled and nodded happily, although he had no idea what the man might be referring to. It just felt good - to be having a normal, trivial conversation with an ordinary man in an ordinary place, discussing the sort of things that people ought to discuss - like the weather, and the price of ale, and stuff like that. He'd handed over care of the brigands to the stern, but grateful, village constable, reluctantly accepted the 100 dinar reward that the man had insistently pressed on him, and had then wandered down through the main street of the village, taking in the sights and the sounds as he went.

Ytarsia was a little bigger than the average village, although still not quite big enough to claim the title of town. It had a bustling, confident air to it, its people going about their daily business with a cheery, unhurried air. Iolaus had grown up in just such a place; Thebes might be slightly larger and a little more cosmopolitan in some ways, but it was still this kind of community, where everybody knew practically everybody else, and a stranger was made welcome, rather than viewed with suspicious eyes. Children were playing in the street, kicking makeshift leather balls about, or chasing each other in games of tag. Farmer's wives haggled with the small group of street merchants, arguing over the price of pottery and the freshness of the fruit. A small flock of sheep milled uncertainly around one of the village water troughs, and on one corner an itinerant entertainer had drawn a small crowd.

"He'll be doing 'imself an injury, he will," the shopkeeper remarked, identifying what had distracted his customer's eye. The entertainer was currently juggling with four long bladed knives, drawing a series of oohs and ahhs from his meagre audience. Iolaus - who'd once, long ago, practised exactly that trick as a means of diverting attention while a pick-pocketing partner worked the crowd - laughed softly to himself. The man was either making too much of his show, or he wasn't that good. Either way, the shopkeeper was right. He was heading for an accident if he didn't watch out.

"About that pole?" the hunter suggested, in no real hurry to leave, but aware that his partner would be waiting for him down by the lake.

"Ah - Phillius! Zeus on Olympus, where is that lazy good for nothing? Phillius …"

Phillius appeared from behind the barrels of olive oil which were stacked man high at the back of the shop. He was a gangly young man barely out of his teens - and he had a vaguely guilty look on his face. Iolaus caught a girlish giggle and quickly spotted the equally young lady who was sneaking away from the back of the building. He grinned knowingly, amused - and reassured - by the unmistakable evidence of everyday, normal life in full swing. "Were ya calling me?" the youngster enquired innocently, earning himself an affectionate clip round the ear.

"You're daft, you are," his employer decided, not really annoyed. "Fetch the man one o'them sapling stakes will ya? He's looking for a fishing pole."

The young man's eyes went wide. "You goin' fishing?" he asked, staring at the hunter in startled disbelief.

"Ah - yeah," Iolaus confirmed a little bemused by the reaction. "Any reason I shouldn't?"

Phillius stared at him. "You mean apart from getting eaten by the monsters in the lake? Nobody goes fishing around here. Not any more. Inkian went fishing two months ago," he explained, looking at the shopkeeper to back up his story. "He never came back."

"Inkian was the kind to get lost just walking down the high street," the shopkeeper snorted. "Don't pay him any mind - there's no monsters in the lake. Just rumours and fairy tales, that's all. The pole'll be a dinar. And you'll be wanting some bait …"

"I have bait," Iolaus interrupted, glancing thoughtfully between the young man and his master. He knew the shopkeeper's type - a man more inclined to profit from a sale than lose it by substantiating hearsay. Phillius, on the other hand, seemed genuinely alarmed. He was shaking his head, offering a wary, anxious warning.

Monsters, huh?

Hercules had mentioned something about possible trouble around here. Maybe this was what he'd been warned about. But then again, the hunter wasn't about to let a few rumours and folk tales get between him and a good day's fishing. If there were monsters - well, that was something he and the son of Zeus were pretty good at dealing with. Very good at dealing with, in fact … He grinned, a reaction which widened the young man's eyes even further. "A dinar? For something I could cut myself out in the woods? I'll give you two obols for it."

"Three."

"Done." Iolaus put out his hand and the shopkeeper clasped it, affirming the deal while Phillius rolled his eyes and heaved a knowing sigh. The hunter winked at him. "If I see any monsters," he promised flippantly, "I'll - ah - try not to get eaten."

The young man glowered at him, clearly annoyed about not being taken seriously. But he went and fetched the pole while Iolaus paid for it and made one last attempt to dissuade him as he handed it over. "This really isn't a good idea," he insisted, earning himself a disgruntled look from his master. "At least - don't go out there alone."

"I won't," his customer smiled, hefting the stripped sapling to check its weight and reach. The wood was still green and unseasoned and it wasn't as flexible as the poles he'd sacrificed in the fight, but it would probably do. "My partner's visiting the Temple. And - hey," he added, seeing genuine concern lurking in the young man's eyes. "Don't worry. I can take care of myself."

Somewhere behind him the crowd let out a horrifed gasp. Iolaus whirled in instant reaction, acting almost before he had time to take in the scene. The entertainer had mistimed a catch; he'd caught the wrong end of a knife and thrown it wildly back into the air, the blade jerking from his wounded hand as the pain registered. Three more were hurtling down towards him, while the fourth arced out, threatening his audience. There was no time to cross the intervening space, even there'd been no-one in the way; there was only one thing the hunter could do to prevent disaster, and he did it, hefting up the slender pole and launching it with a twist from his wrist that sent it spinning across the square.

One end swept up the wild knife, deflecting it safely to a nearby roof while the pole windmilled on; it spun straight over the juggler's head, and finally embedded itself in the straw eaves of the building behind to him. Two knives had impacted into the passing wood and stayed there, quivering. The third had hit at an angle and bounced off, landing point down at its owner's feet.

Iolaus frowned in mild self-annoyance. He'd been aiming to catch all three.

"Wow," Phillus breathed, staring at him with new respect. The hunter found him a grin.

"Never a chakram to hand when you need one," he quipped. "But - uh - I guess that puts a new spin on his act, anyway." He laughed softly and gave the young man a friendly punch to the arm before striding away to collect his new property. Phillus went on staring - as did the shopkeeper, whose mouth had dropped open in astonishment. Iolaus received a number of such wide eyed stares as he strode across the square; people were busy whispering things like did you see that and how did he … none of which hurt his sense of self esteem as he sauntered past the wounded juggler and stretched up to reclaim his pole.

It was a good foot out of reach.

Why does this never happen to Herc? he wondered, heaving an irritated sigh as he measured the distance. He could probably reach it if he jumped …

"Let me," the juggler offered, stepping up beside him. He was a long limbed, lanky individual with a lean lugubrious face that made his slightly goofy smile look a little incongruous. Both the face and the stance looked oddly familiar, although Iolaus was positive he'd never met the man before. The parti-coloured jerkin with its pattern of gold embroidered diamonds would have stuck in his mind - especially with its matching hat, on the tip of which was nodding a single iridescent feather.

"Sure," the hunter agreed, deciding that if anyone was going to look ridiculous standing on tiptoe to dislodge the pole it might as well be the man who was already way ahead on points. He stepped back and let the entertainer get at the problem, relieved to notice that the man's hand didn't seem to have been too badly damaged by his moment of misjudgement. There was a strip of coloured cloth now wrapped around the wounded palm, which he was favouring a little, but no real sign of blood or evidence of permanent injury.

"Theodorus," the man announced brightly, reaching up at full stretch and missing the pole end with his first enthusiastic snatch. "My name," he added, trying to achieve the necessary height by adding a little hop to his tiptoe stretch . "It's Theodorus."

"Oh." Iolaus had rather wondered what he'd been talking about. "Ah - Iolaus."

"Pleased to meet you, Iolaus. I owe you. Big time." Theodorus had reached the pole on his third attempt, dragging it free - along with a shower of straw from the thatching.

"Just one of those things," the hunter dismissed with a shrug, still wrestling with why the man looked so familiar. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, but I want to." The juggler was struggling to tug his knives out of the wood. After a moment Iolaus reached out and took the pole away from him, plucking the blades free with an experienced twist. "Somebody could have got hurt. Like me for instance."

That's true …

"At least let me buy you a drink. As a thank you?"

"Well …uh …" The offer of a free drink was hard to refuse. But if Hercules had made his delivery to the temple then he'd be on his way to the lake - the same lake that, rumour had it, was seething with mysterious monsters. Not that the son of Zeus wasn't perfectly capable of dealing with the occasional monster on his own, but forewarned is forearmed - and it was always safer to have backup on hand.

Besides, Iolaus didn't want to miss out on any of the fun.

"Thanks - but no thanks," he decided. "I - uh - have to catch up with a friend." He smiled a friendly farewell and set off down the street, carrying the pole like a walking staff to avoid tangling with passers-by. After a moment or two Theodorus fell into step beside him, the man struggling a little to keep his gangly stride an easy match to the hunter's deceptively casual pace.

"You're - ah - going my way," the juggler explained, a little too hastily to be totally convincing. The curve of an ornate lyre now poked above his shoulder; there were tiny bells hanging from its carrying strap and they jingled melodiously as he offered up his shrug.

"Yeah?" Iolaus didn't know whether he should be annoyed or amused about acquiring this unexpected shadow. "Well, I'm going fishing. At the lake. Where the monsters are," he added, in case the man hadn't heard that particular rumour yet. Theodorus briefly stopped in his tracks - and had to break into a half run to catch up again.

"Monsters," he echoed nervously. "Well, umm - I - ah - Listen," he confided, leaning in a little and dropping his voice as he did so. "There are some - people, I - ah - need to avoid? If I could just - "

"You owe money, you smiled at the wrong woman, or you just upset someone?" Iolaus asked, deciding to settle on amused for the time being. The man was personable enough, despite his ridiculous outfit and his slightly goofy demeanour - and there was something decidedly flattering about being picked out to be the man's protector. The hunter was well aware that most people assessed his threat factor on the basis of his height and build and - in so doing - inevitably severely underestimated both his ability and his capability. This either implied that Theodorus was a man of remarkable perception - or that he was a lot more desperate than he looked.

"A little of all three," the entertainer was admitting with a slightly embarrassed smile. "It wasn't what they thought," he explained hastily, "but they weren't exactly in a mood to listen. If I can get out of town for a while …"

The other dinar had finally dropped. The voice was a little mellower, and the accent held a soft lilt that spoke of an upbringing in the islands somewhere, but - cut the man's hair into a warrior's bob, replace his green and red embroidered jerkin with an assortment of second hand armour - and you'd be looking at someone who, if not Joxer's twin, would almost certainly be mistaken for a close relative.

Perhaps he was.

Joxer's father's a warlord, Iolaus recalled, frowning a little at his company's hopeful expression. Probably sowed more than a few wild oats when he was young.

That could mean any number of things; the hunter shared a measure of Xena's exasperated fondness for the inept, well meaning, would be hero, not least because he knew how devoted the man was to Gabrielle. But he also remembered Autolycus telling him and Hercules about Joxer's brother Jet - and how the man was a notorious, ruthless and efficient assassin. If Theodorus was related, it was to be hoped he didn't take after that side of the family. On the other hand … Iolaus didn't want to think about what the 'other hand' might imply. One Joxer the Mighty was quite enough for the world to cope with as it was.

The guy's in trouble. He's asking for help.

And he had no right to judge a man purely against the fact that he looked like someone he knew …

"Out of town, huh?" Iolaus noted, sweeping the surrounding street with what - on the surface - appeared to be a casual glance. He spotted the lurking menace immediately; three heavy set men and a fourth, somewhat older individual, all of whom were trying to not to look as if they were following their quarry - and failing miserably. At least two of them had been members of Theodorus' audience. "How mad are these guys?"

The entertainer looked a little sheepish. "Mad enough, I guess. I didn't know she was married - and I'd never seen those loaded dice before, I swear …"

"Okay, okay," the hunter interrupted, putting up his hand to halt the spill of explanation. "I get the picture." He heaved a small sigh of resignation. His peaceful fishing expedition had, so far, turned out to contain a rumble with bandits, rumours of monsters, a barely prevented accident, and now a potential run in with the local village thugs. Just another, normal day in the hero business.

Wonder how Herc's getting on?