DISCLAIMER
Though the characters in this tale may physically remind you of people that you know, they are in no way affiliated with, or based upon, the characters of Xena and Gabrielle as used in Xena: Warrior Princess. It may shock you; nay, disgust you to know that I have watched barely three episodes of your favourite TV series (perhaps four years ago?) and so would not be able to draw upon those characters even if I wanted to. Not my fault, mind you, but that of the broadcasting authorities in my country. However, I am aware of certain physical similarities and therefore invite you to employ your own wild imagination to make the leap.

SEX/VIOLENCE/TWO-FACED YELLOW-BELLIED LILY-LIVERED SON OF A DINGO CHEATER WARNING
Yeah, some of that. And that, and that, but not that. Because I�m old-fashioned and I prefer subtext. The real subtext, not the �I can�t believe this isn�t maintext!� type.

COMMENTS
You are most welcome to share them with me, as long as you adore me madly. No, but really. Constructive criticism will be welcomed with open arms. As will an explanation of bathroom facilities during the second world war, sour jelly beans, a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice (please seal the envelope properly) and any nice drawings of the characters on these pages. Find me at: kalexy@webmail.co.za

AND FINALLY
There are odd things afoot. Slippers, mostly.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Helena had had just about enough of Philip�s erratic behaviour. He had popped his head into the wagon once or twice to enquire about her general well being, but all traces of the mannerly and eloquent young man who had attracted her attention was gone. Now, instead, he seemed self-absorbed and terse. Honest enough to admit that self-absorption was one of her own poorer qualities, the princess did not actually particularly admire it in anybody else.

To think that this is what I left my adventure and my knight for.

My knight?

Pfft. Well, she rescued me, so she�s more my knight than anybody else�s.

Harmony had abandoned her noisy facial exercises after a rather graphic threat from Helena concerning her bodily orifices and a wooden cutout of a cow. Now, instead, she was repeating the phrase �He�s just a jester from Queen Quack�s court� incessantly. It was still annoying, but on a comparative level it scored much higher than sudden blaring emissions.

Knitting her fingers together over her drawn-up knees Helena sighed. Her decision had been a stupid one. This she was prepared to admit to herself � though not to anybody else unless under risk of torture. Perhaps she could ask Philip to take her back to the town. But who was to say that Crispin would still be there? She had abandoned the knight without so much as a word. But that�s what she wanted me to do, the sneaky part of her mind immediately reminded her. Yes, that�s all fine and well, but now I�ve gone and gotten myself into a situation I want to get out of, and she�s the only one I know who would be able to do that. That was the more rational part, even surprising itself with its sudden utilization. With another sigh Helena leaned her head back and rested it against the wooden frame behind her.

�He�s just a jester from Queen Quack�s court. He�s just a jester from Queen Quack�s court. He�s chester � bother� He�s just a jester from Queen Quack�s qua� He just� bugger��

The princess was about to utter a very unladylike comment when her character was saved by the appearance of the director of the troupe. Master Gaites was a peculiar-looking little man with a black moustache that extended past his ruddy cheeks in two convoluted twirls. His black eyebrows arched profusely over small slanted eyes of an indeterminable colour. Festooned in his usual gaudy top hat, which seemed to be taller than the norm and more ludicrous for the fact that he was so short, he popped his head through the sail into the wagon with a rigid toothy smile on his face.

�My deah.�

Displaying a hand adorned with large ornamental rings he mopped his forehead with a fancy handkerchief before he tucked it back into his sleeve. �I juzt vanted to tell yu zat I am so happy to be havink yu here wiz us.� His accent was unidentifiable to Helena and seemed to be mostly invented (and fluctuating, at that). �Ven ve get to Flagstavv yu must vatch de � stop bowncing, yu goddamned hurse� shauw and begin to lern Harmony�s parts, yu understand? After zat ve stop for a vhile before Lucarte, zen ve begin to practize. Yu understand?�

Sorely tempted to say no just for the sake of it, Helena nodded earnestly. The little man fished the handkerchief out of his sleeve again and mopped his forehead. �Gut. Grand. In ze meantime lern what does � ay despize yu, yu stinky beast! � lern what does Harmony, yu must vatch de practize of the elements of ze craft, yu understand?�

Having actually lost him this time, Helena plastered her best dramatic smile on her face, hoping it would do the trick. It did. With a self-satisfied nod he pulled his head back, almost dislodging his hat before he held it on his head with a few more choice remarks to his steed. �Gut. Gut. Gutbye for now, Elinor.�

Whether it was miscomprehension or his accent she did not know, but it seemed a better course of action to let him go away than it did to correct him.

�He�s just a jester from Queen Quack�s court. He�s jester jester � bloody mary� He�s just a jester from Queen Quack�s court. Horse lorry donkey cart. Horse lorry donkey cart. Horse lolly lonky� buggerit� Horse lorry donkey cart.�

Helena heaved a sigh and turned to the perilously concentrating young blonde. �Harmony? Can I teach you a very good song?�

After a good few repetitions of the song �The Duchess and her powder puff�, especially the particularly inventive fifth verse, the feeling of the wagon jerking to a halt was a rather welcome one. Popping her head through the sail Helena peeked around the wagon to where most of the men had dismounted and were now unfurling and setting up small tents. Philip was engaged in making a large fire, aided by one of the extremely short men who were usually cast in the roles of children or otherworldly creatures. This specific one was hauling a log almost equalling his own length towards the crouching young man with the scowl furrowing his brow. Sniffing disdainfully towards him even though he was too far away, and too busy, to notice, Helena climbed from the back of the wagon as gracefully as she could, considering her massive dress, and stood waiting for the still-singing Harmony to join her.

Apparently ranking as mere women amongst these characters had its advantages, as they were required to do very little apart from the dishing up of stew, ladling it into wooden bowls and passing it to the men who waited in line with apathetic boredom. When all had been served they took their seats on low cushions around the large bonfire that had been lit, and tucked into a meal that was passable, if not exactly bordering on brilliance. During the meal one of the players, a swarthy villainous-looking man with a booming voice, told a true tale so raucous and impossibly rude that the princess considered covering her ears � and she would have, had it not also been uproariously funny. She was still giggling silently when Harmony pumped her in the ribs with an elbow enthusiastically, causing her to slap herself in the face smartly with the sturdy wooden spoon. Impervious to the muffled laughter that this produced, the pretty blonde player clapped her hands enthusiastically. �Oh! Helena knows the best songs! Will you teach them the one that we sang?�

Blushing a tad at the public scrutiny the princess laid her bowl to one side and stood. �Very well.�

It began fairly obedient and harmonious, wandered into pure merriment and enthusiasm, and then rapidly degenerated into improvised lines and those unexpected solo performances that sounded better when you�d been drinking. After the last round of singing, during which one of the participants attempted to slap Harmony on the shoulder good-naturedly and ended up sprawling face-first into a tree (his aim was off by several yards) general consensus was reached that the night had been a tremendous success, but that it would be much too hazardous to continue, and that therefore everybody needed to go to sleep.

Somewhere during the festivities Helena had woken up the sneaky rationalising part of her brain to reassure her. See, this isn�t bad. It�s quite enjoyable, actually.

Only because you keep thinking it�s merely until Crispin comes back for you.

But Crispin�s not coming. Crispin thinks I wanted to go, and now Crispin will let me go.

�How is that supposed to reassure me?� Catching sight of Harmony�s wide eyes on the other side of the extremely small snug tent Helena waved a hand apologetically. �Oh, I�m sorry. I was talking to myself.�

�That�s all right.� The willowy blonde sank down onto her low stuffed mattress. �I do that too at times. Hello, Harmony, are you having a pleasant day? Why, yes, thank you for asking. Like that, you see?�

�Um.� Turning her back on the player Helena raised one eyebrow. �Oooookay. Have you set eyes on Philip this evening? I don�t recall seeing him at all.�

�No, I didn�t either. He sleeps in the green wagon at night.�

�Oh. Thank you. I�m just going to speak to him for a moment.� Ignoring the meaningful little grin she stepped out and tiptoed quietly over to the green wagon that stood at the outskirts of the low-pitched tents. In lieu of a door to knock on for civility�s sake she took hold of the heavy material and gave it a good shake. Immediately Philip�s tousled head appeared.

�Yes? Oh, hullo, Helena.� He seemed as though he had already been asleep.

�Oh, I am sorry if I�ve woken you, Philip. I just wanted to ask you something.�

�Yes?�

�If I wished to return to town, and to Crispin, would you take me back tomorrow?�

The scowl that shot across his forehead was immediate and darkly foreboding. �What? Don�t be stupid, girl.� Feeling the air around him cool considerably he attempted to rectify his ill-thought response. �I apologise, Helena, what I meant to say was that we have an important show in Flagstaff and I cannot bow out now � that would be inconsiderate to Master Gaites in the extreme.� He scratched his dishevelled head thoughtfully, though it seemed to the princess to be a rather measured gesture. �When we have finished that show, and if you still feel inclined to return to � Crispin,� his voice gained a noticeable edge, �then I will accompany you myself. I do only have your best interests at heart, you realise?�

�But of course.� Smiling sweetly Helena nodded. �That is only fair. Thank you, Philip, and sleep well.�

�And you, milady.� He drew his head back into the wagon and the princess could have sworn that she heard the sound of a woman�s soft laughter. Shaking her blonde head she walked back to her tent. If he had been paying attention at all he would have known that a complacent Helena was a perilous one, she mused. Her sickly-sweet smile and mental curtseying would not have fooled Crispin.

When she returned to her tent Harmony was already snoring lightly, her slightly upturned nose hoisting her curving top lip into the air with each inhalation. With a soft chuckle to herself Helena slid into the low pallet and pulled the blanket over her body.

�Hey.�

�Snghhhh.�

�Hey.�

�Sngghhhh-gh.�

�HEY.�

�Snggh-hha? Whassa?� Finally more or less awake, Harmony pried her eyes open to the lovely sight of an awfully handsome blonde man sticking his head around the entrance of her tent. From the light of the lantern that was, oddly, still burning, she could clearly see the strained frown that sat prominently above his perfectly arched eyebrows.

�Hello?�

Scrambling up quickly Harmony drew her body into a small bundle and pulled the blanket up to her chin. �Please. Please, I beg of you, I�ll do whatever you want from me, but do not hurt me!�

He took a very short moment to digest this before he shook his head impatiently. �I�m not going to do anything to you, woman!�

�Nothing at all?� It came out sounding disappointingly� well, disappointing.

�Nothing at all.� He withdrew his head for a moment to glance left and right before he poked it back into the tent. �Look, I apologise for my unwelcome entrance,� noting a rising comment that he would have been bound to make himself he forged on, �but I am searching for a friend of mine. Yea high, blonde, green eyes��

�You�re looking for Helena?� There was definite perplexity in Harmony�s tone.

The blonde man shook his head enthusiastically, causing a blonde lock to fall artfully over one eye. �Yes, yes, Helena. Have you seen her?�

�Why, she�s right�� but as the blonde player pointed towards the mattress she suddenly realised that it was empty, �there. Oh.�

�Drat.� The blonde man eyed the mattress tetchily. �Are those her bags?�

�Yes.� Harmony nodded. �Although� it seems as though she has taken one of them with her.�

�A HA.� Striding in he seized the bags unceremoniously and tramped right out again. Harmony was just about to lower the demurely clasped blanket when his head appeared again. �Oh, and by the way, thank you very much. Enjoy your night.� And then, finally, he seemed to be gone.

�Some girls have all the good fortune,� she muttered as she slid down into bed and pulled the blanket over her shoulders again.

�Pssst.�

�Sngh.�

�PsssssssssT.�

�Sngh?�

�Harmony.� Some whispers were so loud that you could not possibly ignore them. It felt as though Harmony had just fallen asleep again, and with a confused grimace she wrenched open her eyes. It was still dark, with the lantern she had forgotten to snuff (again) throwing imposing shadows against the sides of the tent. Amongst those shadows Philip�s face, thrust into the tent, seemed darkly and dramatically appropriate. Impatiently he rustled the material clutched in his white-knuckled fingers. �Harmony.�

�Yes, Philip?� There was a slightly irritated edge to her tone but he did not notice, choosing to glare at her darkly instead.

�Where is Helena?�

Aggravated, she sat up and folded her arms. �I do� not� know. All right? Not a notion, not an idea. What does everybody want with Helena in the middle of the night at any rate?�

�Everybody?� His brown eyebrows drew together furiously. �Who else?�

�It is probably not my business, Philip��

�WHO ELSE?�

At his thunderous tone she cowered back (and found to her absolute bafflement that she was quite enchanted by his ferocity). �Please, Philip! You�re going to harm yourself � or worse, me.�

Tossing his head imperiously he glowered at her. �Oh, calm yourself. I�m not going to do anything to you.�

�Nothing?� She raised her eyebrows hopefully.

�Not a thing. Now tell me!�

Gathering her blanket about her Harmony pursed her lips peevishly. �I cannot say exactly how long ago, but not long before you, a man came here and asked for Helena. When she was nowhere to be found he stormed out.�

�A man, you say.� He let loose a crashing roar. �Crispin!� Twirling on his heels he stormed away from the tent, leaving a bedraggled Harmony with her blanket drawn up to her chin.

�Well.� She tucked herself in petulantly and this time remembered to blow out the lantern�s flame. From the darkness came a mutter. �And what, exactly, may I ask, is wrong with me?�

CHAPTER FOURTEEN...