The plaza was a total mess. Toasted fruit and nuts lay scattered among the mixed grains which had spilled across the stones; the space under the altar was still smoking, and the air was thick with the scent of warm honey, crisped rice and roasted oats. Pieces of charred wood emerged from the banks of produce like flotsam left after a flood.

"Boy, is Aunty going to ballistic when she sees this! Some party, huh, sis?"

The words were delivered in a familiar, laughing drawl - and Hercules’ heart sank. Apollo! He’d been hoping that at least one of the gods would be within hearing distance, but his fair-haired, frenetic brother had not been on his A-list. Not even on the C, come to that. The young god of the sun had arrived on his floating travel board, and was hovering above the scene of the disaster, hunkered down to get a good look at the collective chaos.

"Hardly," a second voice answered, its owner stepping out of nowhere in a shimmer of silver light. "More panic than party, I believe. Am I right, little brother?"

The new arrival was a slender figure clad in tight fitting buckskin, with one bare shoulder, above which rose the curve of an ornate bow. Her silver hair was caught back by a simple leather band and she was wearing Amazon style bracers, inlaid with turquoise beads. Hercules blinked, a little taken aback at being addressed so directly.

"Artemis?" he questioned. The few times he’d glimpsed this particular sister, she’d appeared in a shimmer of light and he’d never really gotten a good look at her. Kora had always insisted that she was beautiful. Now he could see what she’d meant.

The goddess sighed. "One and the same," she acknowledged with a hint of exasperation.

"Whoa!" Apollo had leapt down from his board and was busy staring at his youngest brother with a decidedly amused gleam in his eye. "Just love the look, dude. It’s so you - not." He burst into fits of laughter and Hercules winced. The honey monster crack had been bad enough.

"Go ahead and laugh," he said unhappily. "I probably deserve it."

"Probably?" Apollo collapsed with a second fit of the giggles and his sister shot him an irritated look.

"You deserve a lot more, Hercules," she said archly. "You. Of all people. Trying to steal the nectar of Olympus. And for what? Personal glory? Another of those - questionable songs they’re beginning to sing about you?"

"Bet he was trying to impress a girl," Apollo suggested, creeping round behind his brother and plucking a honey coated, puffed grain of wheat off his shirt. "Hey - you know? You may have got something here. All that extra, virgin goodness - wrapped in a toasted honey coating!" And he was off again, howling with laughter and hugging his sides in total delight. Hercules felt about three feet tall.

"It was - it was the honey we were after," he admitted uneasily, staring at the ground and stirring the barley on it with his boot. "And it was for mother. For her birthday. We weren’t after the nectar," he added with a little more defiance, lifting his eyes to meet those of the goddess. She wasn’t laughing, but the look on her face made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Apollo’s mirth at his humiliation was one thing, but his sister’s anger was something else entirely.

"Your mother." Her eyes softened a little. "You love your mother very much, don’t you?"

"Yes," he answered, confident in that at least.

"And is one day of her happiness worth a young man’s life?"

Iolaus …

The look on his face would probably have been answer enough for anybody. Artemis’ expression went from anger to one of sympathetic pity. That made him feel even worse. "I didn’t know - " he began to say. "About the bees … He - he’s been stung before, I - I - Can you help him?" His plea was soft, and the words held decided pain. This wasn’t easy. He’d sworn never to ask any of his family for help, but - this was about Iolaus, not about him. Surely Artemis wouldn’t balk at helping her fellow hunter? Especially one to whom she’d shown favour in the past.

"You have invaded Demeter’s sacred garden," she considered, turning to survey the disaster area with a thoughtful frown. "Without an invitation. You have been party to the destruction of both her offerings and a considerable amount of my honey. You have disturbed my bees, created an enormous amount of work for Cydrus, and, in the process, have been responsible for putting an innocent in harm’s way."

"A-ah!" Apollo interrupted, grinning at Hercules as he took a step forward. "Point of order. You cannot call the little fireball in there an innocent. Not by anybody’s stretch of the imagination. Partner in crime, maybe …"

"An innocent," Artemis repeated firmly. "Since, in this particular case, this episode was entirely Hercules’ idea. Wasn’t it," she stated, fixing Hercules with a look that suggested he denied the fact on peril of instant death.

"Absolutely," he admitted. "All my fault. Everything. My idea, my plan - my punishment, right? I’ll - I’ll do anything. A quest. Servitude. Anything," he repeated with fervour. All the time they spent talking about this was time Iolaus might not have …

"Your punishment won’t be up to me," Artemis said with a sigh. "But - I suppose you really didn’t know the risk your friend was taking. There was no way you could know. He didn’t." She sighed a second time, reaching down to pat the heads of the hades hounds, who had trotted over to greet her. "It does seem a rather - pointless way for a hero to sacrifice his life. Devoured by hydras maybe - "

"Disemboweled by hippogriffs?" Apollo suggested happily. "Ripped apart by Chimeras? Eaten by harpies? Toasted in honey …" he completed with a wicked grin, savouring the way his brother was wincing at each blood thirsty suggestion. Their mutual sister shot him a withering look.

"Please," Hercules pleaded softly. "If there’s any way to save him …"

The goddess thought about it for a moment, then heaved a third, and slightly martyred sigh. "I’ll take a look," she conceded grudgingly. "He does have a certain - potential. Shame to waste it."

"Thank you." The gratitude was heartfelt and she snorted dismissively.

"Don’t thank me just yet," she advised, striding up the steps and into the shaded building. "Pol? Whistle for Hermes, will you? Get him to tell Aunt Demeter what’s been going on here. I’m sure she can come up with a suitable penance for our little brother here."

"On it!" Apollo snapped his fingers for his board, which immediately dived close enough for him to leap onto. "Hoowhoo! Hercoolees! Are you in for a frosty reception. Back in a flash!" He shot off like one of their father’s thunderbolts, leaving an echo of his laughter behind. Hercules shuddered. His ignominy would be all over Olympus before the sun set, and he didn’t know which was going to be worse - his father’s inevitable disappointment, or Hera’s gloats of delight.

Then there was the little matter of his punishment …

I’ll deserve it, he reminded himself, following his sister up the steps. Iolaus was right. Stealing is wrong, and I should never have dragged him into this.

"That was a brave thing you did, lad." Cydrus Right watched him walk up the inner steps and gave him an encouraging smile. Left was watching Artemis as she leaned over the unconscious hunter; it was an enviable skill, to be able to focus attention on two things at once. Two heads, one soul, Hercules realised, and cracked a rueful smile. He and the giant had more in common than he’d initially thought.

"I did what I had to," he said, standing back to give his sister a little room to work miracles. Just in case she needed to. "The right thing. That’s what I should have done in the first place."

"Absolutely," Artemis said without turning round. Her hand caressed a pale cheek, then reached to brush back a cascade of golden curls. "Of course, if this young hero here hadn’t argued with my bees, then you might have got away with it." She pushed the soft wool blanket aside, her fingers sliding down to rest on a tanned and honey stained chest. A soft silver light briefly sparkled under her touch and Iolaus shifted reactively, a soft moan escaping his lips.

Hercules shivered at the sound.

"Oh, Iolaus," the goddess sighed. "Always in trouble and always for a good reason. Someday this heart of yours might get you into something you just can’t handle." She smiled at the thought, dipping to plant an amicable kiss on her fellow hunter’s forehead. "But no more bees. I promise." She straightened up and turned away, casually tugging the blanket back into place as she did so.

"That’s it?" her brother reacted, half in surprise and half in indignation. "That’s all you’re going to do?"

"All I need to do." Artemis glanced up at the way Cydrus was looming over her and he coloured, hastily dropping to his knee in a gesture of respect. "Don’t look so worried," she advised, briefly clapping her hand to Hercules’ shoulder with friendly encouragement as she walked past him down the steps. "He’s not about to die, you know. Not now. His heart’s strong. He’ll live. Thanks to you," she added with a knowing smile.

"Thanks the Fates," Hercules breathed with decided relief. "I thought - "

"Know what you thought," his sister grinned. "But I seriously doubt you’ll get rid of him that easily. Now," she continued in a business like tone. "You’ll need these - " She clicked her fingers and several rolls of bandage plummeted from the roof, one or two of them hitting Hercules on the head and the rest making Cydrus lean back in alarm.

"Bandages?" the giant’s left head questioned, picking up the nearest missile between his right thumb and his forefinger. "You don’t bandage bee stings. Do you?"

"No - but you do bind up broken ribs. Three at least," the goddess noted with a thoughtful glance towards her half mortal brother. "Must have been when he restarted his heart."

Gods …

Hercules’ eye went wide in consternation. His mind darted back, recalling a clenched fist and the panicked anger with which he’d assaulted his friend.

"These are for the bee stings," Artemis was saying, sweeping her hand out in an expansive gesture. Several small pots and jars materialised on the steps beside her. "Salves to ease the heat of the stings, bring down the swelling - oh, and something for the bruises too. He’ll be asleep for a while, but you can tend to him when he wakes up."

"I hurt him," Hercules breathed in quiet horror, lifting his hands to stare at them in dismay. Artemis snorted, slapping his hands down with impatience.

"You saved his life," she corrected firmly, reinforcing the point by jabbing her forefinger into his chest. "Remember that. You did what had to be done. And you’ll do it all again, the next time he gets into trouble. And the time after that. And the time after that too, no doubt. Hercules," she insisted, when the distressed look on his face failed to dissipate, "if it had been you lying there, breathing your last - would you have you expected him to hold back in case he inflicted a few bruises?"

Memory replayed flesh hitting tanned flesh - and with it, the reactive jerk and desperate gasp for life which it had elicited

"No," he admitted reluctantly. "I guess not …"

"Well then," she concluded matter of factly, "don’t move to guilt city over it. He’ll understand - and do as much for you if the need ever arises."

"Which it probably will," Cydrus Right observed wryly. The goddess shot him an amused look.

"Especially if the watchman’s sleeping on the job," she noted pithily. "Honestly, Cydrus - you’re getting as bad as your brother Io."

"Oh, come on," Left protested. "I only have four eyes to keep watch with - not forty."

"Besides," Right chimed in, "I’ve been working all day. This garden doesn’t take care of itself you know."

"Exactly," a new voice boomed, deep and resonant. The sound echoed around the entire building and out into the garden beyond. Hercules looked up in alarm; the marble statue was stirring, its carved features dramatically resolving into those of Demeter herself. Golden light flared and flashed across the painted ceiling as first Hermes and then Apollo came to join the party, the first hovering at the statue’s shoulder, the second looping the loop and screeching to a halt behind his sister and half brother.

If he’d had any thoughts of making a break for it, they vanished instantly. He was well and truly surrounded.

"So you’re Hercules," Demeter boomed, staring down at him with a stern expression. He swallowed hard, steeling himself for the worst. Somewhere - out of the corner of his eye - he spotted Cydrus, surreptitiously reaching to scoop the sleeping Iolaus out from between the stone goddess’ feet, then come back for Artemis’ salves, rescuing both with admirable adroitness.

"Yes," the youngest son of Zeus acknowledged, taking a small step forward and setting his shoulders with determination. He’d made a mistake, he’d owned up to it - and now he had to face his punishment like a man. Like the warrior Chiron had taught him to be.

"Hoooee!" Hermes exclaimed, getting his first good look at the bedraggled, honey coated demi-god. "Man, are you a sight. You’re all covered in wheaty goodness, dude."

"Told ya," Apollo drawled smugly. "My brother - the corn flake."

"That’s enough," Demeter snapped, reducing his mocking laughter to smothered sniggers - sniggers Hercules tried manfully to ignore. "As for you, young man - you may be my nephew, but that doesn’t give you the right to invade my garden, desecrate my altar or destroy my offerings, now does it?"

"No m’am," he answered dutifully. He had no quarrel with Demeter, who tended to treat her followers with measured consideration rather than unreasonable demand. When she noticed them at all, that was. "I’m sorry - about the mess. I didn’t mean to - "

"Intentions are not the issue here," she interrupted sternly. "The outcome is. I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect, you understand? You’re lucky I don’t just strike you dead on the spot."

"Ah - " Hermes pointed a wary finger skywards and she threw him a withering look.

"Dead men learn no lessons," she continued briskly. "And idle hands get their owner into mischief - so here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to pick up every single grain, nut, and piece of fruit from this courtyard - by hand. Then you’re going to clean the stones until they gleam. After which you will help Cydrus cut back the old vineyard and restore it to sensible use, harvest my olives, pick my oranges, reap my wheatfields, and plough the stubble back into the ground ready for the spring planting."

Hercules heaved an inner sigh of relief. He didn’t mind a little hard work - especially since he’d been expecting a lot worse. And Iolaus would be there to help him. Well - sit and watch encouragingly, he considered, more than a little guiltily. The hunter wasn’t going to be up to any serious work for a while. "Yes m’am," he agreed gratefully. "I’ll be glad to." Demeter harumphed softly.

"We’ll see," she said sceptically. "As for this other young man - " She turned to where Cydrus still cradled the sleeping hunter and Artemis stepped forward, deliberately putting herself between the living statue and the anxious giant.

"I believe this young man has been punished enough," she said firmly. "But I will see to it that he helps with the honey harvest - once he has recovered from his injuries. He has paid his price," she insisted, meeting Demeter’s narrowing gaze with defiant confidence. The older goddess held the look for a tense moment, clearly annoyed at being overruled. Then she sighed and nodded, dismissing the matter with a wave of her hand.

"Whatever," she agreed. "He wasn’t the one demolishing my altar. Your honey, your bees - your problem. You’re on probation," she added, pointing at Hercules - and left, abandoning the statue so that it remained in imperious accusation, one hand extended.

"Hey - light sentence, dude!" Hermes grinned, then laughed. "Newsflash! Hercules gets hard labour and time off for good behaviour. Like - ah - film at eleven. Catch ya, later!" And he too was gone - a streak of laughing, whooping light, heading back up the mountain and vanishing into the clouds which cloaked its peak.

Apollo walked round to stare up at the abandoned statue, his board tucked under his arm. "That was - like - disappointing," he said. "Where were the fireworks? The screams of protest? The months in Tarterus, emptying bottomless wells?" He turned, to find Hercules eyeing him with animosity - and burst out laughing again. "Oh man - you are one seriously toasted hero and no mistake. Have fun with your chores, farmboy. I’m outta here. Cheerio!" He dropped the board, leapt onto it with athletic ease and swooshed away, leaving a rumbling boom echoing through the air.

"Our brother," Artemis sighed, "can be a real jerk sometimes. But you weren’t far behind him today, Hercules. I expect better of you."

"I usually expect better of me, too," Hercules said, echoing her sigh. "Thank you - for what you did."

"Me?" She laughed. "I didn’t do anything. And if I catch you - or your little hunter friend - trying to steal my honey again … Well, you don’t want to know what I’ll do. If I catch you," she repeated with a grin, winked, and vanished.

"Well," Cydrus Left observed, "I haven’t had that many visitors since the meneads left." He paused and thought about it. "I think I preferred the meneads."

"You would," Right snorted. The giant stepped forward and carefully deposited his sleeping burden back onto the couch. Iolaus hadn’t so much as stirred throughout the entire proceedings. "But - hey - we got help with the harvest. Hope you’re a hard worker, young man."

It was midday before Iolaus finally came round. Hercules had been able to settle him comfortably, wash most of the grime off him, gently bind up his broken ribs, liberally salve him with sweet ointments and still find time for a bath of his own. He was back at his sword brother’s side long before he stirred, taking a break from the start of his allocated labours to share Cydrus’ lunch of bread and cheese. It was probably the smell of food which woke the hunter up.

"Hey, buddy," Hercules registered, alerted by the soft groan which proceeded a very careful opening of tender eyelids. "How you doing?"

Iolaus blinked at him. Clearly regretted the action - and managed a tentative smile. One backed by a clear desire to wince as bruised muscles protested even that easy motion. "Wha - hit me?" he asked, his voice little more than a strangled croak.

"I did," his friend admitted apologetically. "Sorry about that. I - uh - your heart stopped. I got it started again."

What? Iolaus mouthed in total bemusement, then snapped his eyes wide in consternation as Cydrus loomed over the couch to check on his progress.

"It’s okay, okay?" Hercules made a hasty grab to stop his friend from scrabbling away in alarm. He was in no fit state to attempt anything athletic. "This is Cydrus. He’s - they’re - a friend. He helped - when you keeled over back there."

"Hi," Right smiled.

"How ya doing?" Left asked almost simultaneously. Iolaus sank back to the straw stuffed mattress, assessing the situation with wide eyes and a look of wary bewilderment. After a moment he offered the giant a cautious smile - of those ‘I’m doing this, but gods - I keep forgetting this hurts’ looks than made his partner wince. He was responsible for most of that.

"’Kay," the hunter croaked, flicking his eyes towards his partner, their depths filled with all kinds of questions. Questions Hercules knew he was going to have to answer - eventually.

"I wouldn’t try to talk," Left suggested affably. "You sound raw all the way down. I’ll get you some wine. That ought to help."

"Good plan," Hercules said, thanking him with a smile. Right smiled in return and the giant stomped off on his errand, leaving the two of them alone. Iolaus immediately reached up and grabbed at his friend’s vest - or tried to at least. Hercules intercepted the grab with gentle strength and carefully but firmly placed the hand responsible back on its owner’s chest. The young warrior’s right palm was still swollen and inflamed - as were the fingers on his other hand, which Iolaus proceeded to discover when he groped to clutch at his companion’s wrist.

Ow, he complained, lifting his hand to stare at it with a peeved and decidedly pained look.

"Just lie still," Hercules ordered impatiently, torn between sympathy for the look and amusement at the self inflicted distress. "We’re quite safe, we’re not in any danger - and you need to rest. I’ll tell you everything, I promise."

Iolaus stared at him suspiciously. "Got caught," he assessed, his voice little more than a soft rasp, then added: "My fault …"

"No." The response was instant and adamant. "Not your fault, Iolaus. Mine, if anyone’s. We should never have been here in the first place. Gods," Hercules breathed, looking down at those familiar blue eyes. "You nearly died. I could have lost you - and for what? A pot of honey? That’s just stupid."

Died? The look that flitted across swollen features was utterly disconcerted. "How …?"

"The bees - remember? You reacted badly when you got stung. And Cydrus is right, you shouldn’t try and talk. Your throat closed right up. I had to force air into you just to keep you breathing."

Oh. Bruised lips formed a perfect circle; their owner sank back into the pillows, looking decidedly dazed.

"You’re going to be okay," Hercules assured him. "Really. You just need to rest. Take it easy for a while. The swelling and stuff will go down in a day or two and - your ribs will heal. Eventually," he added with a small wince. He still felt guilty about that.

"A little wine can go long way," Cydrus Right boomed happily, reappearing from the garden and striding over to join them both.

"Although this one’s only traveled sixty paces or so," Left laughed. He was carrying a huge amphora - well, huge on a human scale at least. It was probably just a small jug to him. "Stirred some of the good spring water and a little of the best honey into it. Should do you a world of good - and if it don’t? Hey - we’ll all be too drunk to care!"

Hercules chuckled, beginning to get used to the friendly giant’s somewhat laid back sense of humour. "Thanks," he said, unhooking the dipper from the top of the jar and sinking it into the deep red liquid it contained. It smelt good - and it tasted good too; he sipped a little to test its potency before risking it down Iolaus’ damaged throat. "Good stuff."

"Wine of the gods," Left and Right both grinned. "Dionysus does good grape. Speaking of which - if you get the altar cleaned up by tonight, we can start on the vines tomorrow. What d’ya say?"

"Sounds good to me." Hercules used the dipper to fill one of the goblets that Cydrus had given him earlier, then grinned and filled a second. He brought both back to the bedside and put one down on the marble steps. Then he proceeded to feed the contents of the second to his partner, a sip at a time. Iolaus grimaced over a number of things; the fact that he couldn’t take the goblet for himself, the equally galling fact that he needed his friend’s support under his shoulders so that he could drink, the simple fact that swallowing hurt - but the taste of the sweet wine and the relief it brought to his raw throat was clearly worth all the effort it took. "I’ll get back to work in a minute or two."

"Take your time," the giant smiled, watching the interaction between the two young men with amusement. It was obvious that Iolaus didn’t like being fussed over by his friend; equally obvious that he both needed and welcomed the attention - and the gentle concern which the son of Zeus was demonstrating belied the off-hand look and bluff body language he was trying to employ. "I’ll be out in the garden. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks," Hercules acknowledged absently. Right grinned at Left and the giant strode away, snatching up the huge rake he’d left leaning against his own bed and heading out into the autumn sunshine. The minute he left, Iolaus shot his partner a look that said you’d better explain all this or else. Hercules sighed, put down the now empty goblet, picked up his own, took a deep swallow of the rich red wine - and launched into his tale.

"I can’t believe I slept right though all of that," Iolaus said for the umpteenth time, gingerly maneuvering a comb of honey out of the hive and into the empty jug that was waiting for it. "I mean - Artemis, Apollo, Demeter and Hermes all show up and I miss it! Is that unbelievable or what?"

"You didn’t miss much," Cydrus Left said with amusement, carefully placing the bulk of the hive back on its base and then picking it up again, one layer lower. "Although a Hercules coated in puffed wheat and honey is definitely not something you see everyday."

The hunter giggled, sliding gloved hands under the next exposed comb and repeating his earlier maneuver. "Now that I would liked to have seen," he said, grinning under his protective layers of net. Bees buzzed lazily around them both, subdued by smoke from Buttercup and Promise. The two enormous hades hounds both had their front paws on the bench and were busy sniffling at the honey pots. Iolaus had to push Primrose away with his boot. "He got off lightly, didn’t he?"

The question was a serious one. Right heaved a small sigh. "Yes," he said. "He did. I’ve got one or two garden ornaments that used to be mortal men. Caught them stealing nectar one time."

"Ouch." The temporary beekeeper winced at the thought. "Well, we weren’t after that." He broke of the relevant part of the honey comb as he said it, placing the glistening cells of divine elixir into a separate pot. "To be honest - I didn’t even know this stuff was here. Well," he corrected sheepishly, "Herc said something about the nectar of the gods, but I didn’t really put the two things together."

"Just as well," Left considered. "It’s powerful stuff. Some of it leaks into the honey, you know? Adds to its virtues. They say it has healing properties … Say - did you taste any of it before you got stung?"

Iolaus hesitated. "Ah - yeah. Just a fingerful. Why?"

Right looked at Left. They both nodded thoughtfully. "Because it probably saved your life," the giant said softly. "That - and your friend’s quick thinking, of course. You’re a lucky young man, you know that?"

"Because the Fates favour me?" Iolaus quipped, starting work on the next layer of the hive. Left laughed. Right snorted.

"The Fates just weave the patterns the way they fall," he said dryly. "I doubt they ever favour anybody. But your pattern? I’d wager it’s a complicated one. All tangled up with a son of Zeus? That’s where your luck lies. With him."

"That’s not luck," the hunter said with quiet certainty. Both heads looked at him questioningly.

"It’s not?"

"No." Iolaus paused to straighten up for a moment, easing his still healing ribs and looking out across the garden as he did so. Hercules was down in the wheat field with the long scythe, his body stripped to the waist and gleaming in the warm sunshine. He looked up, as if sensing he was being watched, and waved, catching sight of the giant and his friend standing by the hives. Iolaus waved back. "It’s destiny …"

A month later Alcmene was busy working in her garden when two travel weary and trail dusted young men arrived at her gate. She dropped everything to rush over and hug her son with decided relief. "Hercules, thank the Fates you’re safe," she exclaimed. "And you, Iolaus - " She let go of one to hug the other, with equal enthusiasm. "It’s good to see you too."

"Sorry we’re so late," Hercules apologised uncomfortably. They’d missed her birthday by a good two weeks, and he’d been getting more and more anxious about the fact the closer he got to home. "There was - I had to - We - "

"Hercules," his mother interrupted firmly. "I know all about it. Zeus dropped by and - well, he didn’t know whether to laugh, or be angry about it. Neither do I. What were you thinking? You know better than that. So do you," she added, shooting Iolaus a look that made him squirm on the spot. "Now - if you’d trespassed in Demeter’s garden because lives were at stake, or there was a curse that needed lifting, or - anything like that … Well, that would have been understandable. Still incredibly foolish, but understandable. I’m surprised she didn’t ask for a year of service."

"Felt like one," Iolaus muttered, earning himself a wry look from his friend. The son of Zeus had spent every minute of his servitude working every bit as hard as they’d ever done at the Academy. Harder perhaps. The hunter had had an easier time of it - although he’d pitched in and pulled his weight, once he’d been fit enough to do so.

"A month was punishment enough," Hercules said sheepishly. "I made a mistake. I paid for it."

"We got caught," Iolaus translated with a grin. Alcmene threw him an affectionate frown.

"I should think so, too," she said. "Crime never pays. Does it, Iolaus?"

"Oh - it pays," the hunter responded shamelessly. "Just - it’s wrong. Right?"

"Right," Hercules and his mother chorused in tandem. He giggled at their synchronicity.

"We missed your birthday, mother," Hercules apologised, deciding that a change of subject was probably in order. "I’m sorry. I really am."

"Oh - that’s not important," Alcmene said, catching his arm and leading him into the garden. "You home - safe and well. The both of you. That’s what matters."

"But - " he wasn’t going to let her dismiss it that easily. "I didn’t even get you a present. I - "

"Hercules," his mother interrupted, just as firmly as the first time. "What are you talking about? Your present arrived on the day. Just after I got the roses from Jason. A perfect match in fact. I’ve planted them over there. The roses, that is." She gestured towards one corner of her flower filled plot, indicating the line of Damascus rose brushes that now occupied what had been an empty bed. "Your gift is over there. Such a clever thought. Now I shall have honey whenever I want."

Two heads turned as one. Hercules and Iolaus stared at the far end of the garden where Alcmene was pointing. There - resting on a normal sized trestle and gleaming slightly in the late sun - was the unmistakable shape of a beehive.

"The note said the hive was your gift, Hercules, and that the bees were from Iolaus. That’s right, isn’t it? A gift to go on giving - thank you both so very much."

Blue eyes sought blue, sharing a look of mutual bewilderment - and wary suspicion.

Zeus? Iolaus mouthed doubtfully. Hercules shook his head, suspicion giving way to quiet realisation.

Artemis, he mouthed back. A small grin began to quirk the corner of his mouth. Maybe something good had come of his mistake, after all.

Oh, Iolaus reacted, nodding his agreement. Makes sense …

"Why don’t you both come in," Alcmene asked. "I have honey cake - and I want to hear all about Demeter’s garden. Is it as beautiful as they say? Does the gardener really have two heads?"

"He certainly does," Hercules laughed, draping his arm around his mother’s shoulders and walking her towards the house. "I’m glad you like your present, mother. But you know what?"

"What?" she smiled.

"Next year," he announced, sharing the thought and the promise with his partner, "I think we’ll stick with something simple. Like a new dress, maybe. Or perfume. Perfume sounds good."

Iolaus halted in his tracks, his eyes widening with sudden suspicion. "Oh no," he said, holding up his hands to register his rejection of that idea. "No, no, no, no. I am not about to raid Aphrodite’s boudoir. Not for anything. Well," he grimaced. "Maybe one thing - but not that." He held the thought for a moment, then added - perfectly straight faced, but with a decided twinkle in his eye: "I do not want to find out what I’m allergic to in there!"

And Hercules’ peal of laughter could be heard all the way back to Mount Olympus …

Hercules was (possibly) responsible for the creation of a great many breakfast cereals during the course of this story. No stunt bees were harmed, due to the magic of CGI and the generosity of Artemis. Despite his traumatic experience Iolaus has not given up eating honey. Or using it for other things, either …