CHAPTER 1
Theron was no drinker by any means. An ale here and there, but more there than here. Yet, for all his lack of drinking, he had purchased a crop's worth of beverage this season alone. His seat - for he had occupied "The Bawd and Bard" enough of late to entitle a seat of his own - lay along the bar, where lone guests wished to remain alone. It gave him clever chance to overhear the latest of Philip and Macedonia, two names he'd rarely heard in conversation before. A quiet man, he took it all in, weighed opinion against opinion, ruled rumour from truth and took a sip of his ale.
Greece was divided, as Greece was oft to do. They were told to pick a side. Side? Where was the definition, Theron thought. The difference? Both looked the same to him. How does one go about choosing between sameness?
"Who do you fight when they are your brother?" Theron shouted, standing atop his seat. "How do you kill when their wounds are your own? Tell me. Tell me and I will choose my side."
The men quieted before erupting into laughter, mistaking his rant for the ravings of a drunk. He sat, quite humbled and flushed. His was a strange face in the tavern and his voice, and words, were ignored.
All his life, Theron had lived in Thebes. His father had farmed the land, and his father before him. Knowing nothing else, he followed the tradition. He stayed because the town was familiar; the land, the people, the customs. His life was a solitary one. He did not marry. His family was dead or migrated. And so, while the town was familiar to Theron, the majority of the town was not familiar with him.
He ordered another drink, which he set beside his first, and his fourth, and all the untouched in-between. Silently, he vowed not to again speak until he would be heard. Bringing the mug to his lips, so as to make with appearances, he listened. And listened. And listened. Greece would soon be at war.
---
They travelled west for fifteen days to return to Greece, taking refuge in the first inn, in the first town, in the first port they entered. Word had reached Xena and Gabrielle about a dragon near Priene, but Hercules had arrived just prior, discovering the dragon was no dragon, but a man tucked away in a cave with torch and oil. Xena would have laughed at the situation, deeming the townspeople too quick to cry dragon, but was too tired to care who cried what and why. Gabrielle however, was disappointed the beast proved false, believing such a foe would raise Hercules to an even higher status of heroism. But a man who waved fire was nothing fantastic, and her story was published to the scrap pile.
Too tired to press any further, they pushed their way into the crowded tavern where men stood shoulder to shoulder in standing-room only. Whatever these men spoke of, whatever brought them to this place was something they clearly did not want two strangers to overhear.
Every face locked onto those of the women, and Gabrielle brushed down her skirt.
"Is something the matter?" she whispered.
Xena shook her head and took a seat. Gabrielle smiled awkwardly at the men she passed, noticing, that despite her answer, Xena's hand never once wavered from the top of her chakram.
"Right. Hm. Normal. For us, I suppose."
Drinks were served quickly, but they drank slowly, saving dinars and energy. No one spoke, which seemed just fine to Xena. The day had been long and hard, and both she and Gabrielle pushed themselves to make it before sunset. The tabletop was covered in a thin layer of dirt and Gabrielle dragged her finger, making designs as they waited for dinner. A house. A chakram. A feather.
A few whispered conversations were scattered around the room, but men were elbowed once their voices were too loud, or they said the wrong word, or they looked too long at the two women. The stares did not seem to bother Xena, who cleared her plate within minutes.
"You're picking," she said, pointing her fork.
"I am not picking, I'm thinning so as to increase the rate of cooling."
"Picking," she repeated, and happily popped one of Gabrielle's olives into her mouth.
Gabrielle leaned over their plates, her chest nearing the filthy table, and Xena copied, grinning madly.
"Ooooh a secret?"
"Xena, be serious. Doesn't this worry you? Even the littlest bit?"
"What? That everyone's one word from a brawl?"
"Yes, exactly. We're not going to stay then, right?"
"No more than a few days."
"You can't be serious!"
"I thought you wanted me to be serious?" she said, stepping from the table.
"Where are you going?"
"To get us a room. Staying is the only way we're going to get answers."
Gabrielle sat back and scanned the room, resigning herself to her friend's decision. All but one man looked away when their eyes met, giving her time to consider them unashamed. Young and old, rich and poor mixed table to table. It was an equal representation of the town, she assumed, though not the normal array of drunks and warriors she was accustomed to in such a setting. In a darkened corner, a group sat huddled together, young men scattered amongst the older, their clean shaven faces so stark and fresh. They sat restless, their arms and hands shaking so slightly. Soldiers, she thought.
Theron watched the women from the moment they entered, taking notice of their step and speech. No one walked as light anymore, or cared to laugh, or smile. They were outsiders, the very thing they all feared, yet, the very thing he needed most. And so, when Gabrielle stared down each man, it was she meeting his gaze. A second shared between conspirators, he thought, or hoped.
He left the bar, following a path mere inches from Gabrielle and bowed his head ever so slight. She rose at Xena's wave and considered, then forgot, the man's wink so slight she may have imagined.
The silence followed Gabrielle to the top of the stairs, leaving once their door shut tight. Men screamed and cheered and mugs crashed against wooden tables, bringing quiet briefly to the tavern.
"What's happened?" Gabrielle asked, craning her ear to the door.
"Not sure. Some bandit or warlord, I guess. What else could it be?"
"I wish you wouldn't say that. Giving the Fates that chance... What else? What else? Oh, I don't know, how about sea creatures that have taken to land, killing only the fairest maidens? Or banshees? Or the deadliest plague Greece has ever suffered?"
"We'll find out soon enough. We always do." Falling onto the bed, dust rose with her sudden weight. "Comfy," she said between coughs.
Xena's lack of concern, well, concerned Gabrielle. The way she never wondered or pondered or seemed to care what was what. Nothing fazed her, which seemed so impossible to Gabrielle, who left nothing unexamined. What would happen happened, and Xena simply went along, fixing what needed to be fixed.
But underneath the unconcerned Xena was everything. Everything the warrior had ever done or been or killed. And Gabrielle understood this, knew this, and did not press any further. If not caring about now meant saving her from then, she could handle being the one so caught up in tavern conspiracies.
"Right," she said, starting to unpack their belongings, "No point in worrying ourselves just yet."
---
Gabrielle tried to follow Xena's example, tried to emulate her cool in the face of fire, her ability to simply not notice. She walked the market, buying what needed to be bought, but all the while taking stock of every man and woman that seemed to stare just a little too long. She was imagining things, she told herself. Looking is not staring. There is a difference. Children pointing could mean any number of things. There was a reason for their sudden celebrity, and Xena was sure to be right, they'd find out eventually. Neither woman were aware how quickly that answer would present itself, or else Gabrielle might have reconsidered her feigned calm.
"We're out of salt," Gabrielle said, which would seem an ordinary thing to say. A repeated phrase yes, but this time when spoken it started the chain effect that would alter Greece forever. A mighty big task for salt.
Xena reached forward, taking her attention off the streets and its people, and the one man in particular who needed attention. She turned back, salt in hand, and smiled at her friend.
And just as this, a man stepped forward, stabbing his small blade into the leather of the Warrior Princess.
Before Gabrielle could scream or reach for her staff, Xena had brought the man to his knees, already coughing and pleading for the blood to recirculate to his brain.
"Please, please" he begged and Xena only stared at the knife in her side.
"Who's going to mend this?" She fingered the slit in her leather "It's not me, that's for bloody sure."
Gabrielle nudged Xena, eyeing the man whose face grew redder and redder by the second. "We should ask him something."
"Right, right. What in Hades was that for?"
He pulled at his neck, choking out sounds that somewhat resembled an answer. Reluctantly, Xena removed the pinch and knelt beside him.
"I mean it. What's going on? Tell me quick, or I'll return your knife the same way you lent it to me."
It might have been her tone of voice, which resembled a friendly conversation more than an interrogation, or the knife that still stuck out of his would-be victim, but the man spoke. And quick.
"Thought you were spies."
"Spies?" Xena asked. "We're a bit too obvious to be discreet."
"We hardly blend in," Gabrielle added. "And just for who did you think we were spying?"
"Philip, of course."
Xena sat back, letting the man be taken by the town's magistrates. She rolled the name over her tongue as the small group surrounding them grew larger and larger. There was no mistaking the stares now, and Gabrielle lifted her seemingly dazed friend to her feet.
"Come on, let's get going." She nodded her head at the crowd, ensuring a cleared path back to their inn. "I know you know what's going on. And you better tell me before they all follow us to our bed."
"That's the thing," Xena said, her voice distant, "I haven't made sense of anything." And just that like, her interest had been piqued, ensuring their involvement in whatever situation the town had found itself.
Gabrielle frowned and watched the faces of the concerned people. "I might have found just the man to enlighten us." She spotted Theron, standing tall among the townspeople, certain this time of the reality of his wink.
Continued...