Pen cocked her head. “And doesn’t your estate boast a herd of deer, Hurtheven?”
“Don’t forget the boar,” Chev noted. “Doubtless he has a few pigs. And cattle! Plenty of mares, too.”
“Alas.” Hurtheven lifted a brow. “I’m fresh out of Hydra, I’m afraid.”
“But surely, you’ve snakes! They’d do for Hydra,” Alicia said triumphantly. “And I know you have an apple orchard, so the golden apples are taken care of, too!”
“Perhaps,” Pen said with a twinkle, “he’s been laboring all along.”
Ash snorted. “I doubt Hurtheven has lowered himself enough to muck out his stables.”
“In fact”—Hurtheven arched a brow—“a dam on the estate recently failed. I happen to be planning a new dam that will divert the river. One of the happy effects will be the clearing of a bit of marsh favored by the cows.”
“As usual,” Ash replied, “you’ve an answer for everything.”
“What’s that leave?” Alicia queried.
“The last labor was a visit to Hades,” Ash said, sounding as if he wished to supply the means for that visit.
“You’ve forgotten The Belt of Hippolyte.”
All heads swiveled to Hera.
“Ah yes,” Alicia replied. “The belt Heracles took from the Amazon Queen.”
“Gave,” Hera corrected. “Shegavehim the belt.”
“And then she was killed by a mob, wasn’t she?” Alicia asked.
“In some versions,” Hera replied. “In others, Heracles kills her himself.”
Hera’s grave expression reminded Hurtheven of her reaction to the statue of that, particular labor in his library.An excellent warning to women...concede nothing, else you be stripped of the whole.
Pen visibly shivered. “Suchhorrible tales! So full of violence.”
“They’re only metaphors,” Hurtheven consoled. “Some good, some, like that one, clearly wanting.”
“I thought youadmiredHeracles,” Hera said almost accusingly.
“I did—I do.” He ventured a tentative smile. “But not even a hero can be entirely without fault. A better man would have cherished Hippolyte’s gift and defended the giver.”
Hera continued to hold his gaze, and he thought he’d seen a brief flash of longing within her eyes.
But longing for what?
He’d willingly—no,gratefully—share with her everything he had. He’d thought he’d made that much clear.Repeatedly.
“Well, I prefer Wordsworth’s metaphors,” Pen said. “Besides, unlike Heracles, Hurtheven hasn’t anything to atone for!”
Ash made an ominous sound.
Alicia glanced curiously at her husband—and then between Chev and Hurtheven. “As amusing as these reflections have been,” she said, “I think it’s high time we leave the men to their port.”
“Yes, let’s,” Pen replied.
“Come, children, say good night,” Alicia urged. “Auntie Pen, Mrs. Montrose, and I will take you up to the nursery together.”
After the usual protests, followed by a hearty round of farewells, the men were left alone.
