Autolycos, son of Hermes
- Road Agent -
Fortunately, I am blessed with a robust health, a good strong arm, a quick mind, and quicker feet, all of which I put to good use that day. I was leaning against a tree in quiet reverie with Gaia, listening to the sounds of the forest, when I was rudely interrupted by the sound of an approaching wagon and horses.
What? My turn? Hurry up? Of course I will. Time to roll the dice… Hmm. Not bad, not bad at all, my good man, you won my obol fair and square. I currently own little but the armour on my back, but I will wager you another obol to regain what is lost.
Anyhow, as a true Hero, for all we Greeks are heroes, as I am sure you will agree, nothing would do but that I examine the interruption. Horses mean nobles, and nobles mean coin, and separating the one from the other is all in a day’s job.
Blast. The dice hate me today. That obol is yours as well. I am not sure I should continue playing. Ah, if you insist. Double or nothing?
As I approached the worn track, that the wagon was likely to be using, I heard the frightful din of fighting! Now, Ares fend, I make no boast when I say that I am an accomplished warrior, but sometimes caution is the better part of valour, so while I continued my approach, I did so carefully, keeping in the cover of the trees, the better to study the situation.
Four of my obols gone in all. I wish my worries would depart as easily, but you are good company, and I am in a good mood, so if you would be so kind as to buy a good jar of wine, I bet I could do better! Dionysus favours the drunk, right? Hah, you laugh, but buy the wine and see who has the last laugh, I will wager another four obols! I am good for them.. Barely.
And what did I see before me? A wagon attacked by bandits, as surely you have guessed? If so, you guessed wrong. I saw a gang of well-armed ruffians attacking a small band of determined defenders, soldiers one and all with the look of eagles in their eye, and a wagon carrying the fairest treasure in the land.
No. Not the Asinine Oracles, nor the Golden Status of Zeus. The first are utter rubbish and the latter is not going to be built for centuries! Ha, I speak in riddles and I throw the dice! Damnation, looks like you won again. Obviously, I am not drunk enough, but that can be remedied!
I speak, of course, of the fair maid bedecked in golden jewelry who was the obvious target of the attack. Now, as all men know, interfering in somebody elses fight is likely to get you killed by either side, if they know you not, so while my heart went out to the defenders and my sword nigh leapt to my hand – I could not in good faith intervene directly or I might have distracted the very side I would support and perhaps cost them victory. Instead, I circled the battle and took up a commanding position at the rear. As well as a deft hand with a sword, I have some facility with the bow, as I proceeded to demonstrate to all and sundry. Swiftly, I feathered a few of the attackers and raise a cry as were I an army, then charged in with my drawn sword!
Hah! The eight obols are mine, all mine! My luck has turned… Better not wager any more. Well, if you insist, then so be it. You are a most droll fellow.
My ruse succeeded. The few remaining attackers fled! Unfortunately, they had managed to dispatch the last of the defenders during the final melee, but at least the maid was unharmed. Gallantly, I offered to lead her to her relatives.
Ah, sixteen obols to you. You are better than you look, old man. Double or nothing?
Unfortunately, there was a minor detail I was unaware of. Well, you can hardly blame me for this thoroughly natural mistake, but I am afraid she did. Women, who can understand them? It turns out that the attackers were led by a determined suitor and under orders to subdue rather than kill the defenders, and the defenders were led by her brother. Apparently, the minx was the one who had arranged to be rescued from a “fate worth than death” in the first place: The marriage to the Autarch. Unfortunately, my thoroughly justified intervention and incidental killing of a few of the attackers – the suitor being one of the first to go down - would appear to have driven the idea of a peaceful solution from everybody’s mind.
…32 obols to me! I feel my luck changing. No, wait, it was just a bowel movement.
So the maid was not best pleased and spent a considerable time belabouring me, adding several insults to my word-hoard. I tried to comfort her as best I could, but she was unwilling at first so I had to apply all my considerable charm before she came around to seeing things from my point of view. Thus what could have been an enjoyable afternoon ended up more business than pleasure. To make matters worse, I heard more horses approaching at a most inopportune moment! ‘Twas the Autarch’s soldiers, come out looking for his bride to be. Well, I have to admit it. That day I left as quickly as I came, and I came very quickly indeed. I hardly had time to close her eyes with kisses twain and steal her discarded jewelry before I made my exit, pursued by the mad soldiers of the Autarch.
My good man. Are you saying that you are not good for the 64 obols wagered? You hurt me, you truly do. If one cannot trust a man’s word, what can one trust? Cheating? Surely, you jest! I would accuse my own father of cheating to the very Gods themselves and demand of them justice, before I even thought of doing so myself! What? You do not know my father? Ah, well, he is a man of no small fame, an honest merchant, a good messenger, a quick wit. Have a jar of wine on me, will you? It is a shame to see friends quarrel over money.
Now, they were on horse and I on foot, but in a forest, the man on foot has a definite advantage, or rather, he would have, were he not exhausted. Given the day’s exertion, though I am fleet of foot, the Autarch’s men gained on me. Fortunately, I am not without recourse. Reaching a deep gorge, I jumped into nothingness! Now, they could hardly return to the Autarch with that unsatisfactory report, so they dismounted and climbed down the gorge to look for my remains, and, possibly, the exquisite jewelry I had acquired. I, however, having fallen but two lengths of a man due to the rope I had cunningly laid in wait for just such an opportunity (I believe in being prepared), quickly pulled myself up, and rode away with their horses. To make a long story short, though I fear that is too late, I ended up selling the Autarch’s horses to the Autarch himself! Unfortunately, the guards and the bride to be turned up at around that time, and things got a bit hectic what with the swordfighting, the daring escape, and the four hundred melons in the main courtyard (don’t ask).
Now, you accuse me of cheating again, just because you are short 128 obols. That is not the friendly way to behave? Why can’t you accept that you lost fair and square? You are insinuating that just because I relieved a maid of her honour, her jewelry, her protectors, her husband-to-be’s guards’ horses, and swindled the husband-to-be, all in the same day, I am somehow not to be trusted? Shame on you! That was business – this is pleasure, and which honourable man would cheat at pleasure? Nobody has ever called me a cheater and lived!
Except for me, my son!
Well, yes, obviously except for you, father. It takes one to know one, after all, and you cheated too, father. Don’t think I didn’t notice your little dice-substitution while I was deep in my cups. When you pretend to be a man rather than a God, act like it! No man would have noticed it, hence, by the rules of the game, it did not happen.
That’s some seriously twisted logic, Autolycos. Small matter. I’m the God, and I say you cheated. However, I am willing to accept your countercharge that I cheated as well, since it is usually true.
And not only usually, also in this specific instance.
Right you are, my son. Anyhow, how’s the disguise? I spent some time perfecting it.
It is a pretty good disguise, father. The unwashed face and hands, the weary gaze, the accent, the second-rate clothes that hint at poverty desperate to appear middle class, and I must applaud you on your quaffing; you could almost pass for human in your ability to toss down fine wine as if it was horse-piss. However, two things gave you away from the very beginning.
I am listening – but this had better be good
First, no labourer would wager 128 obols – and nobody would accept such a wager from a labourer without seeing the money.
Curse the vagaries of this outmoded economic system!
Second, you forgot to change your sandals. They are rather… Unique.
It is always the small things that trip you up. Would you believe that… No, you probably would not. You always did see through my lies.
Flattery will get you nowhere, father, especially empty flattery. You are by far the better liar. You are, might I add, divinely skilled at the noble art of presenting the truth in an acceptable fashion that dovetails nicely with your wishes.. That said, while it is always nice to see you father, I expect you have business to attend to? You do keep a hectic life, you of the many roles.
Yes, I was going to introduce a new concept of merchant banking to one of my devotees when I saw your horse and decided to drop by. Better get on with business, really. Give your old dad a hug before leaving? We Olympians have feelings too, you know.
Oh, I do know. A big hug for the best damn God in the Pantheon.
I wonder what that was about? Let’s see, he will, of course, have stolen the remaining jewelry and replaced it with something disgusting despite the fact that I can still feel its comforting weight in my pocket. That’s just the sort of God he is. Probably nicked my sandals as well just for the taunt. Moreover, if he feels really stupid about the sandals, and I sure would have were I him, unless it was a double-blind to trick me into thinking that he had forgotten the sandals in order to make me overconfident, which is a definite possibility for he is a trickster indeed, I will have to look for a new horse as well, but then, I was always a better horse thief than he was, so that is a minor issue.
No, the real question is what this silver key I stole from him unlocks, and when he will notice it is gone. It appears to be made in one piece of the best silver, and it is marked with the mark of Aphrodite. Hmm. Says “Key to your desires, 12/12” on the reverse with a superimposed thunderbolt. It has a strong divine aura as well, and grows warm to the touch. That is rather neat, really, probably the property of Aphrodite herself, and the thunderbolt does more than hint at the work of old Zeus himself, long may he reign, or given the craftsmanship perhaps Hephaestos on his behalf.
I would wonder how father got his hands on it, but as that would evoke any number of very graphic images, which would force me to lie down in a cold bath for a long time to get over, I guess I had better not. Unfortunately, that I managed to pick such high-profile loot almost certainly means that he intended for me to do it, which means that he got one over me anyhow, for that is just the sort of game he likes to play. The sandals were probably deliberate.
As the good and honest man I am, I really ought to return the key post-haste, but she is a busy Goddess and might not easily be found. Moreover, there is undoubtedly an adventure to be found, or it would never have been put my way, so if one were to, say, hypothetically of course, disguise oneself as an acolyte of the Goddess, infiltrate her temple, seduce her priestesses – at least the beautiful ones – and steal her most deeply held secrets from the inner sanctum, one would be in a better position to locate her and return the key, if one had not through the course of one’s investigations come upon whatever treasure the key unlocks. It goes without saying that the risks, if caught, would be substantial.
…I will make a good acolyte, really.
…And thus it came to pass that a new acolyte brought joy to the Goddess’ ancient temple, and thus it came to pass that Aphrodite was told by a rogue that she alone was worthy of praise, for “all men desire you and all children are conceived with thought of you”, scant moments before he stole a favourite necklace, and thus it came to pass that Aphrodite lost the opportunity to bring along a champion and had to pass it off as personal choice to avoid ridicule for being fooled by a mortal, a loss significantly compounded when she discovered that the very rogue who nicked her necklace traveled along to the new world, following the Gods on the astral trail by means of her lost key… And thus it came to pass that the rogue, one Autolycos, son of Hermes, a wise man, a thief, braggart, and warrior, the greatest horse-thief of the ancient world, threw her a winsome smile as he arrived in the new world, cried out “Here’s looking at you, kid”, and sped westwards over the hills before she could react, for he was very fleet of foot, and had considerable experience in evading the Wrath of Women scorned.
After running for many days and nights, I came upon the seven hills, and I cried loudly to my father. “Behold, your son is come into his own. On these seven hills I shall build a city, the greatest in the world, and all who love joy, all who love trade, all who love life, shall be welcome.” And he answered, for of course he was lurking nearby, watching my antics:
”Of course you are, son, and well may you rule. This is truly the land of opportunity, and you are not alone. To your south my champion Perseus will establish his realm and I suggest you cooperate even as you compete. I apologise for not explaining the situation to you, but Zeus laid down the law…”
Now, one should not lightly interrupt a God, but that was going too far: “No, you do not apologise. Gods never apologise, and when you do, you do not mean it. You are just saying that to manipulate my emotions. As a matter of fact, you found a clever way to manipulate circumstances such that you would end up with two champions instead of one, betting that I would support you out of enlightened self-interest and not begrudge you the choice of Perseus, which is certainly true enough as it was a devious strategy and I love devious strategies, and worth much more than 128 obols.”
True enough.
How about 256 obols then? I am afraid I am a bit strapped for cash to bet with, but I have this nice necklace made from the finest gold, that I could put up as collateral. One previous owner.
Good one, Autolycos. You will do well – if you can evade the wrath of Aphrodite, that is
The Wrath of Aphrodite? Surely, you do not believe that she would blame me for that minor theft, when it is obvious from the context that it must have been part of your larger plans, and I but your (willing) tool. I am afraid she will blame you. As for me, I will be suitably contrite. I might even build her a temple, for I love beauty. And money, of course, but the two are often related. Perhaps I should send her a message? Now, just who is it that is the messenger of the Gods?
Perhaps a wager on whom she will forgive first?