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This is my answer to the missing episode challenge for February. Although Pride Comith Before a Brawl is one of my favorite Hercules episodes, when I started to think about it I had no idea why Hera would have been so angry with Iolaus to send Nemesis to kill him. The story line says "pride, arrogance, ego" but about what? Is it just because he is Herc's friend? Certainly not the fight on the bridge, that was the "start of it". Here is my idea!
PROUD AS A. . .
When I said good-bye to Hercules that afternoon just outside Ister, I had no idea where my life was going to go. Both of our lives were full of pain, and for the first time in a long, long time, we were going to have to grieve separately. It was too much to ask your friend, even if he was your best friend and you had been friends since you were teenagers, to help you through your pain when his losses were even more recent and more horrible. So we clasped hands one last time and set off on separate paths. Only the gods knew when we would meet again.
My pain had come slowly, in dribs and drabs. My wife had died giving birth to our second son, and the baby died a few days later. I had to be both father and mother to my son, but loved him so very much that it seemed simple most of the time. I had a farm on which little would grow. The soil was rocky and it never seemed to get enough rain. Maybe another man, more of a farmer, might have made it work, but not me. I still don't know if it failed to produce because of my lack of skill or my lack of interest. I was a father first, a blacksmith second, a hunter third, and finally a farmer. It didn't surprise me that I couldn't grow enough to feed myself and my son.
I could only practice my blacksmithing when I had someone to watch over my child. A forge is not a place for a toddler to play. I couldn't leave him while I went to hunt; although sometimes he accompanied me on fishing trips, being more interested in throwing rocks into the water than sitting patiently waiting for a bite. Mostly we played together and wondered where our next meal would come from.
I was not at all surprised when my wife's family came to me and asked if they could take the boy; and as much as I loved him, I knew I could never care for him as he got older. I was afraid he would turn out like me, and I had come from a home with a both a mother and a father - even though my father was never there. The thought of my son stealing from merchants or possibly selling his body on the street was enough to make me tell them to take him and to please give him a good home.
I was still struggling with loneliness and seconds thoughts regarding that decision when the world came that he had died. I wanted to scream and tear my heart out. I would have taken care of him. I would have called a healer faster. I would have put wet cloths on his head to abate the fever. I would have been a good father. But I knew that things would not have been different. When your lifeline is cut. . .
I won't bore you by retelling you the story of my friend's loss. You know it. How his stepmother Hera destroyed his entire family with fireballs. It was quick and deadly. Right in front of his eyes. He had loved that family more than he had his own life. I'm sure he would have willingly died to save them, in fact I would have died to save them, too. He'd die for me, and I'd die for him. That's the way we are.
So I return home to my fallow farm and try to make a few tools and weapons that I could exchange for bread to help me through the winter. I drink too much. For the first time in my life I lose interest in female companionship, sitting home alone with a wineskin and watching the land do nothing. I am a mess.
Then one day I have an idea. I didn't say it was a good idea, but in the state I am in any thought is worth something. I remember how Hercules was going around destroying Hera's temples, as if on some kind of personal quest. No, there really isn't an "as if" about it, it IS a personal quest. I wonder what would happen if I destroy one of her temples, how it would make me feel? Would people talk about Iolaus the way they talk about Hercules? Challenging the queen of the gods. It must be wine-induced bravado.
I figure a small city shrine, like that in Sparta would be a good place to start. Hercules is working through the major temples and the smaller ones are ripe for me. Furthermore I like Sparta, a warrior city with strong men and beautiful women, just a bad city goddess. I always have a good time there, if I can just stay out of jail. I grab my bow and arrows and my father's sword and take off for Sparta.
They must be having tough times in Sparta, too. The temple is empty. There are no sacrifices on the altar, no priests tending the fire and no people worshiping. The place looks almost deserted, as if they heard Hercules was coming and hightailed it right out of there. 'Cept they didn't get Hercules, they got Iolaus. But I can be bad, too.
Hercules would have put his shoulder to one of the pillars supporting the roof and pushed it right down. The whole place would be reduced to blocks of marble and pieces of clay in no time. I don't have that option. I snuff out the fire. I spit on the altar, thinking I should do worse things. Then I see him. Sitting there, looking down at me, and I knew what I have to do.
Turning his head from side-to-side, eyeballing me. He assumes the defensive position and fans out his huge tail as if to try to threaten me. I am not afraid. He is just a bird -- a big dumb bird. A big dumb bird with eyes on his tail. Perhaps if he were the symbol of another god or goddess, I could even say a beautiful, but dumb bird. Why had Hera picked him as her symbol? Yet, a bird that is "all show and no go" seems to be a fitting symbol for the old hag.
I know what I have to do. It is not something I do lightly. I love to hunt. I often hunt for food, but I am sure as hell not going to eat a big tough peacock from Hera's temple. I am just going to kill it. Kill it for sport. Kill it for revenge. Kill it for Hercules. Kill it for his wife and children. The mighty hunter will kill today.
Other than good marksmanship, there is no skill involved in killing a peacock. No "old hunter's tricks" are necessary. It's a lot like hunting ducks in a pond or shooting at targets. I am almost embarrassed by how easy it is going to be.
The bird continues to strut back and forth inside the temple. I am sure I am the only one here. No one will know I was the one who killed him, unless of course I tell them. That's what I will do, I'll kill that damn peacock and tell everyone about it. I will show him who is the hunted and who is the hunter. Me, Iolaus, the Golden Hunter. I'll be proud to have killed it.
I notch an arrow and take aim. I haven't shot a bow in a long time, but once you learn something like that you never forget. I look the peacock right in his eye, as I let the arrow fly. It goes right through his head, through that eye that had been staring at me as if it ruled the world. A lesser man would have gone for the heart, but I went for the head. I didn't miss.
He flops around, unable to control his tail or his legs. I can't help but laughing. Proud old Mr. Peacock, Queen Hera's symbol of greatness, dead at my hands. Dead at the hands of a used to be hunter, used to be farmer, used to be warrior, and used to be father. I wonder if my son would be proud of me, but somehow I think he would have been sad for the pretty bird.
People would have talked about Hercules if he had destroyed the temple. They always talk about him. Talk about his physical prowess, big shoulders, strong as an ox. Talk about him always helping people, even when he is destroying temples. Talk about his saving mortals and killing monsters. Just that kind of guy. No one talks about Iolaus. No one even knows who Iolaus is. Even here in Sparta.
I go into the town and take a room in the inn. I sit at the bar, drink wine, and watch the crowd. My eye is caught by a tall, dark-skinned woman wearing a metal collar and little else. I find her enchanting and watch her every move. She doesn't see me. She is hanging around with a group of men too rough to challenge for the chance to get to talk to her for a few minutes. Maybe if Hercules were here, I'd try, but maybe not. She is out of my league. I drink alone, and tell no one about the peacock.
The next morning I head for home. I have to go by Alcmeme's place on the way home and think maybe I should stop and spend some time with her. She is almost like a mother to me, always makes good food for me to eat, always makes me feel welcome, and I love her. She has to be lonely with Hercules out on his quest. She'll be glad to see me. Yes, I'll stop at Alcmeme's.
I'm totally surprised that Hercules is there. I thought he would be still off saving people and smashing temples. He tells me a story about how he had gone to a wedding in Nespa, been poisoned by a woman allied with the centaurs, and lost his sight. Tells me how he was able to kill a centaur event though he was blind. Now that is a shot. He should be proud of that. I wonder if I could hit something if I couldn't see it. It has been three weeks now and his vision has returned. He is feeling better and has actually been considering coming up to see me.
I am surprised that he got near enough to a woman to have her poison him. He must be getting over the loss of his wife, just a little. I think about the women we met when we were both single. Even then, I was always much more of a lady's man than him. The one thing I was better at. Better than Hercules.
I suggest that maybe we go someplace together - perhaps the games at Thrace. We need to spend some time together again. Herc had just been in several contests at the weddings, besting the centaurs, so he feels ready to go at it again. I'm always up for a contest, and I know I can shoot. It should be fun. Maybe we should have some personal side bets. I'm not sure if I could beat him at archery, but if we bet on who would get kissed first.
I don't tell Herc about the temple in Sparta. I don't tell him about the peacock. I'm just not sure how he would how he would feel. What would he say about my taking on Hera? Being with him changes my perception of the act again. I am still proud I killed the damn bird. I'm going to tell him sometime, maybe after we get to Thrace.