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/DRAMA/JUGGLING/OGRE-BASHING/TROLL-THROWING/SPITTING/GRATUITOUS GIGGLING WARNING
Nothing you can't handle, poppets. Even the swearing is dandified to make it more palatable. Damned be thy pantaloons! Only one relevant warning, as ever: Subtext. Real subtext, not the stuff you mix with water. If you're looking for blatant sex I'm very sorry, but I've hidden it between the other letters in ... SUBTEXT. Drumroll, please.

COMMENTS
You are most welcome to share them with me, as long as you adore me madly. No, but really. Please don't waste time with pettiness or snotty comments - karma will pay attention, but I won't. Constructive criticism will be welcomed with open arms. As will credit card details, money orders, Fanta grape, cheese wheels and the pope. Find me at: kalexy@webmail.co.za

AND FINALLY
Welcome to chapter two. It's been waiting for you. 

CHAPTER TWO

There was a slight breeze blowing amongst the trees, which only served to numb the princess’s jutting bottom lip further. She was attempting to maintain a perfect sulky pout, but to her great consternation – and indignation - this did not appear to have the slightest effect on the knight. Peering from under her long lashes (surreptitiously, of course) the pouting princess found that the knight was in fact meticulously cleaning her nails with a sharp stick and a great degree of concentration. When the dark woman felt the green eyes on her she intensified her attack, poking her tongue from one side of her mouth for greater effect.

Helena pondered for a moment the mind that would find such a mundane task so intensely riveting. It did not bode well for her forthcoming journey – or for anything much, in fact. Deciding to abandon her pout forthwith, the princess tucked her lip into her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully to encourage the bloodflow. A quick glance at the knight confirmed that she was still folded double with her brow furrowed, poking carefully at the same dirty nail.

With a sigh Helena studied the gleaming black hair for a moment. There was nothing for it; she was going to have to have a conversation, even if only with this … well. Clearing her throat pointedly she waited for the other woman’s response. What would have been polite would of course have been for the knight to immediately lay down her sharp stick and say “Yes, m’lady” attentively. As it was the woman in question merely gave a very unladylike sniff (more of a snort, perhaps) and wiped furiously at her itchy nose for a moment before she returned to her task. Gritting her teeth resolutely Helena cleared her throat once more, staring at the knight with the greatest intensity she could muster. The dark woman just continued to clean her nails, pausing only once to wave away an insistent gnat.

“Knight!” Helena’s voice was very startling and strident in the silence.

The knight cleaned the last nail and discarded the stick neatly in the fire, then glanced up. “Indeed.”

At the irate look on Helena’s face she gave a small smile.

“It crept up on us.”

Helena folded her arms rather aggrievedly. “That‘s not what I meant and you know it! I do not find you amusing in the slightest!”

Grinning, the knight pulled a green apple from her saddlebag and rubbed it against her shift a few times. Then she took a great bite from it, speaking through her methodical chewing.

“That’s a pity, for sure.”

Helena was about to start stamping her foot petulantly when she realised that the knight’s lusty chewing would probably take precedence over any kind of satisfactory reaction. Gritting her teeth she decided to take the horse by the reins, so to speak. Subtlety was obviously wasted on this person.

“What is your name, knight?”

The knight chewed happily for a moment and then – thankfully - swallowed before she answered.

“Crispin.”

“Excuse me?”

This time the knight spoke through the obstacle in her mouth.

“Wha? I thed Cwispin.”

The princess wrinkled her nose distastefully at the sight of mangled apple.

“Close your mouth. Crispin is a boy’s name.”

“I can’t answer your silly questions if I close my mouth. And do I look like a boy?” Crispin raised one eyebrow over her apple. To her extreme indignation the princess actually pondered the question, studying first her simple clothing, and then her rough dirty boots. Then, with an almost imperceptible glance at her chest, Helena frowned.

“I suppose not.”

Snorting, Crispin took another bite from her apple and chewed loudly before she spoke. “So? If I’m not a boy and my name is Crispin, then Crispin is not a boy’s name.”

“Ha!” Helena gave a rude bark of laughter which was so loud it startled even her. “Your logic is terrible."

Crispin shrugged rather noncommittally. “I’m a knight, not a scientist. Ask me about dragons or horses or swords or something." 

Chewing the inside of her lip pensively Helena tried – and failed – to conjure up an acceptable question. She just wasn’t interested in dragons or horses or armour, darn it. She decided to try the next best option.

“What do you do… when you’re not doing this, I mean?"

The knight furrowed her brow for a moment before she answered.

“Oh. I’m a ladies’ bloomer merchant.”

Helena’s eyes widened in amazement. “Really??”

“Yes. But not at night. Then I’m a hired mercenary for carnival folk.”

Helen gave a squeal of fury and jumped up, stalking off to a shadowy corner. From the darkness her voice came floating out, pouty and petulant.

“Why do you have to be such a pain in the backside?!”

Crispin seemed to consider the question briefly, her long finger tapping her chin. Then, shrugging, she rolled back and sat cross-legged on her bedroll.

“It’s not me. It’s you.” She waited patiently for the unintelligible profanities to subside (noting again just how inappropriate the princess’s vocabulary was) before she continued. “Princess. If it looks like a knight. And it rides like a knight. And it rescues your lily-white pantaloons from a beast much like a knight would … then the chances are great that it is, ipso facto, a knight.”

Helena was quiet for quite a while, and Crispin was just getting comfortable with the silence, when the slightly less sullen voice came drifting out again.

“Are you a knight all of the time?” Crispin gave an exasperated sigh, and Helena continued quickly. “It’s just no profession for a lady!”

“Oh? Would you call me a lady?”

“Not to your face.” There was a snigger from the trees. “Erm. Right. But what about a young man? And children and a family?”

Crisping shrugged and looked up at the stars.

“I am actually much fonder of dragons than I am of young men.”

She cast a glance over her shoulder, appearing to pinpoint Helena’s location with her blue eyes. “Come closer to the fire.”

“No.” Helena folded her arms touchily, fully aware that she was in the darkness, but hoping that Crispin’s eyes would miraculously pick up her very pointed signal of displeasure.

 “All right.” Crispin shrugged again in that careless way that was becoming increasingly irritating to the princess. “If the wild boars kill you, I’m keeping the crown. Just so you know.”

A ruffle of skirts preceded Helena’s hurried appearance next to the fire. Hem grasped delicately in both hands, the princess attempted to disguise her dash for safety with a haughty tilt of the head.

“You are not taking my crown. That is final.” She promptly sat down where she stood, her lack of composure and grace causing the skirt to billow around her ears. Valiantly, and miraculously, Crispin managed to maintain her serious expression at the sight of Helena viciously fighting the voluminous material down to the ground. When the princess finally regained her self-control and poise sufficiently, she cleared her throat again, pointedly.

“I’ve heard that bit, princess. Just talk now.” With a smack of her lips Crispin threw the apple core over her shoulder in the general direction of Toby, who caught it in mid-air and disposed of it cleanly.

Helena sat quietly for a moment, her brows furrowed, then turned towards Crispin. “Crispin is a boy’s name.”

“Is it?” Crispin’s casual tone made Helena want to stamp her feet.

“Yes! You know it is!”

“Could be.”

The pout began by itself and spread over the princess’s face, creating various interesting effects on its journey. “It IS!” At the knight’s slight smile Helena clenched her jaw tightly and balled her fists momentarily. She knew, she knew this woman was purposely trying to infuriate her! Fine. Fine fine fine. She would not be drawn into this childish game that knights apparently played as a pastime. Arranging her face into a sweet (if quite sickly) smile, Helena took a deep breath and levelled her voice.

“Crispin is a boy’s name, you know. Is there any reason why your parents would have given you a boy’s name?” Her eyes suddenly narrowed at a new thought. “Or are you not using your real name? You could be a criminal!” She gazed at the dark woman’s face suspiciously.

Crispin gave a faint grin. “I am not a criminal. Just because I liberate an item here and there… Look,” she stretched her long legs ahead of her and leaned back on her elbows, looking up at the stars peeking through the trees, “there’s no story. My grandmother’s name was also Crispin.”

“Your grandmother had a boy’s name??”

The knight sighed and rolled her neck a little to get rid of some of the tension building in her muscles. “She was a woman, I guarantee you. Apparently when she was born her father mistook her for a boy and named her before he could be informed otherwise.”

Helena’s brow creased. “Why would they mistake her for a boy? Was she… did she…”

“Was she did she what?”

“Did she have a…” Helena leaned forward, spellbound, her eyes as large as saucers. “Was she like that little boy at the carnival who…”

“NO!” Crispin sat bolt upright indignantly. “Nobody in my family is anything like anybody in any carnival!” Huffily she rearranged her pillow and flung herself back down again.

“Go to sleep." 

“But…”

“Tied upside down on a horse.”

“But why would your ...”

“Crown, horse, horse, horse ...”

“Fine.”

“Good night.”

“Hmph.”

“Sire, I admit that I did sneeze in your drink

Lo, behold, your mustachios are burning….”

The princess was no music hall runaway, of that much Crispin was sure. Her singing was, if possible, even more atrocious than it had been the day before, and her terminology continually served to amaze the knight. Whether the princess was forgetful enough for the previous evening’s topic to have slipped her mind, or whether she was tactful enough not to bring it up again (naturally Crispin voted wholeheartedly for the first option), the knight was completely and utterly thankful. She was actually beginning to enjoy the moustachioed tale of woe when a faint sound caught her attention.

“Shush…"

The princess had just arrived at a particularly dramatic verse and hurled her arms flamboyantly into the air, adding a little howl to the end of the last word for effect.

“Princess…”

Crispin’s cautious voice was lost in Helena’s enthusiastic rendering of the penultimate verse, complete with a dance that remarkably resembled the movements of a chicken scratching for worms. As much as Crispin wanted to see this to the end, she had to exercise the necessary caution. Riding up behind Helena she leaned sideways in her saddle and unceremoniously hefted the smaller body onto the horse with one hand, her other firmly covering the princess’s mouth. For a second, surprised, Helena did not resist. Then the indignation rushed in and she managed to kick Crispin in the shin twice before the knight irritably wrapped an arm around her and restrained her movements. There was only one option available to the princess – she sank her teeth into Crispin’s hand with all the enthusiasm she could muster. The knight yanked her hand away with an agonised roar, only to be reprimanded quickly by Helena.

“Shush! I think I hear something…”

Shaking her throbbing hand wildly to relieve some of the pain, Crispin glared murderously at the woman seated in front of her. 

“You don’t SAY?”

Ignoring the icy sarcasm, Helena titled her head and attempted to identify the ruckus. There was some gnashing of teeth, some roaring, some howling and some stomping of feet too. Twisting in the saddle, and almost falling off in the process, Helena caught Crispin’s still furious eyes.

“You know what we have to do.”

The knight nodded. “Let’s go.” She prodded Toby with her heels, and the horse quite happily wandered away from the noise.

“Wait! Where are we going?!” Helena turned around so forcefully that she almost fell off again. “We have to investigate!”

The black eyebrows arched almost into Crispin’s hairline and stayed there for good measure. “Investigate? People as inquisitive as you end up investigating their guts on a sharp stick soon enough. Did I say inquisitive? Sorry, I meant nosy. That’s the word I was going for.”

Helena folded her arms petulantly and glared.

“I want to investigate. Why don’t we ever do what I want to do?”

With a grimace Crispin inspected her wounded hand, flexing her fingers a few times. “Number one, we’ve only been travelling together for two days now, though it feels like a lifetime…”

Toby, rather unimpressed with the conversation, yawned and shook his head to test the hands on the reins. At that stage they were in fact waving around in the air rather wildly trying to make a point.

“It’s hardly travelling - you’re abducting me against my will.”

“I would not call rescuing you from a three-headed beast abducting you, your royal Hell-ena.”

“You just fed Boris some sandwiches! Such a hero!”

“Boris?? Look. Never mind. I don’t care. Number two, you’ve spent how many years lying around on a bed waiting for a prince to kiss you awake – when you weren’t even asleep! – so your ideas are all bound to be extremely bad.”

Toby lowered his head and ate some juicy green grass and one or two pretty flowers.

“At least I have some ideas in my head!”

“You’ve read too many books, girl, that’s your problem…”

“And you’re an insensitive loutish pig, that’s your problem. Bet you can’t even read!” 

“I can too.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Now why in all of the world would I lie about something like that?”

“I don’t know. You’re strange.”

“Me? I’m strange??”

“Oh, and ha bloody ha for the royal Hell bit.”

Toby chewed happily for a moment before accidentally getting a small rock in his mouth. Spitting out the offending object with a disgusted look he wandering into the direction he felt was best suited for a horse.

“I should never have saved you from that turret. Ever. Pity you look so deceptively peaceful in your semi-sleep. Did they describe that look in one of your books? Because it’s not actually inherently you, princess.”

“It’s not too late to take me back, you know. I’ll keep quiet all the way?”

Giving a bark of laughter Crispin shook her head. “Terrible plan. Here’s a better idea. You can walk back.”

“Fine. I have legs. Good ones.”

“Minus the crown, princess.”

“Stop calling me princess!”

“So it’s a deal?”

“NO.”

They glared at each other. Helena was only beginning with her best intensity when Crispin looked away into the trees, her dark face thoughtful.

“Hey! We’re arguing here! Pay attention.” Helena snapped her fingers inches from the knight’s nose, only to have her wrist caught and held immobile in mid air. She was about to start slapping with her other hand when Crispin’s eyes met and held hers.

“Shh.”

They listened quietly for a moment, the princess’s brow furrowed. “I don’t hear any…”

“That’s the point. Where’s the noise?”

“Ohh.”

CHAPTER THREE WAITING IN THE WINGS...