(continued)

Iolaus was escorted from the governor's home. The one time warrior felt far more frightened and heartsick by his failure on behalf of "the king" preparing to be crucified than he did about his own miserable life.

Yet, even to the end, Iolaus tried to help this amply loved and so despised man, who meant so much to so many. He'd seen him weakly fall, the heavy cross laying over his viciously lashed back. He saw the guard whipping the fallen form and Iolaus, incensed, jumped forward. Finding a strength he'd forgotten he'd once possessed, Iolaus grasped the whip's end from the tall Roman - as he reared back - in his own arthritic fingers.

"He needs water." was the only thing Iolaus could think to say. He glanced over, watching as one of the followers lifted a waterskin to the man's lips then he stared steadily into the soldier's eyes, daring him.

The burly guard grumbled but, surprising, did not strike out at Iolaus although he was within his rights to do so. However, after a pause where the Roman seemed to be unsure of himself and what he was doing, he snapped the whip away from the Greek's hands and pushed him aside, "Out of the way, you foolish old man."

Iolaus had fallen painfully to the ground right beside the doomed figure who held the heavy cross over his shoulders.

Their eyes met.

*Be safe.*

No words were spoken but Iolaus could hear this as plainly as if it had come from his lips. It was as if a bolt of numbing electricity surged through his body, causing him to lay still and stare into this man's eyes. "Be safe? I have a friend ..." he whispered.

*Be well, my friend. You are blessed. Be not sad. This will be a day long remembered.*

And Iolaus knew ... it came to him as clearly as his visions. This was the child he had seen so many, many years ago. His birth in a manger foretold to him in a dream. He was so puzzled at the time. What was it about that baby that had brought him such a feeling of peace?

But now, even under these horrible circumstances, Iolaus felt the same contentment. He continued to stared into the condemned blue eyes - brighter than any he had ever seen before - and suddenly felt complete. His life hadn't been wasted. He had a purpose still, even if he did not understand it entirely.

All this from a poor dying man's gaze.

The sky had grown gray and dangerous overhead. A rumble of thunder was heard.

Then the moment was severed. The death journey continued as Iolaus slowly got to his feet, men and women passing him by. He unexpectedly felt cold and alone. What had he been thinking, wandering this strange land all on his own? Anxiousness assailed the Greek as he understood there really was nothing he could do about any of this. He was not here to stop this horrible thing but to witness it; be a part of it. But why? Why?!

Could no one give him an answer?

A hand closed over his shoulder and Iolaus twirled, expecting to be man-handled by yet another soldier.

Instead, he saw his salvation.

"Iolaus ...."

Hands clasped emotionally as they stared at one another. It had been so long ...

"Hercules, come with me." was all Iolaus said in greeting. "We need to follow."

Hercules wanted to talk with Iolaus, tell him how much he missed him, ask him who that man was and what was happening and why he felt he needed to be a spectator to something so ghastly. Yet, he knew better.

Silently, the demigod accompanied his friend and the crowd up to a hill in the distance.

They called it Calvary.

****

Iolaus stared at the three men as they hung on their crosses, tears filling his eyes. Hercules stood beside him, equally emotional. They had both been warriors and saw things such as this before. Men were cruel and the punishments they devised for one another were incredibly viscous.

Oh, for a single harmonious age.

It was a horrendous way to die but not even he, Hercules, could stop it. This was Judea and under Roman rule. And as much as it broke his heart Hercules could not interfere. It was tough enough when he got in the way at home but here his muscle and the fact he was the son of a now dead Greek god meant nothing.

For once in his life Hercules was sorry that his family ties would bring him no special treatment.

Most of the assemblage had gone the evening before, when the storm had gotten so bad - lightening flashing above like a furious living entity - that even the brave, smug soldiers that kept watch had grown nervous.

Iolaus stood still, clutching his dark cloak tightly around his shoulders, and just stared at the one man as he hung dead before them. The crown of thorns he had been presented with sloped to one side of his head, held in place only by his blood matted hair.

Hercules, standing behind his best friend, put both hands on his shoulders. "It's over, Iolaus." he spoke somberly, "It's time to go home. Your family is worried about you."

"Not yet, Hercules." Iolaus spoke in a drained monotone, his expression serene. "It hasn't played out yet, my friend. I'll leave only when it's time." His tone sounded old and weak but there was also a resolve in there that demanded compliance.

Hercules nearly asked the question: 'How will we know when it has played out, Iolaus?' but didn't. He would not cross-examine his one time partner. At least, not now.

Taking another tact, the demigod breathed deeply and looked down the hill into what appeared a small village. "You haven't eaten in awhile, Iolaus. I'm going to go get you some food."

For the first time since he had heard Jesus of Nazareth's last word, " ... forgive them for they do not know what they do ..." Iolaus peeled his eyes away from the crucified form and looked at his tall friend. "Yes, Hercules. Get us some food." he said and smiled mildly.

Encouraged, Hercules nodded and lifted Iolaus hood over his head, against the cold. He then patted his friend's back gently before making a descent.

Iolaus watched him for a few moments, warmed by he and Hercules friendship; the way his brother was always looking out for him against the elements and whatever else there was in the big, cold, cruel world. If only he had stayed young and could help Hercules, be his partner, like he did in their youthful past.

Regrets. He had so many regrets.

(continue)