"General," the soldier snapped off a parade ground salute and marched from the office, passing Caesar's second in command as he arrived in the chamber.
"Brutus," greeted Caesar cordially, "How goes the VIIth's preparations? I trust that they will be ready to march on the morrow?"
The dark haired officer stood before his commanders desk and replied, "They will be ready to march with the dawn, my Lord. As soon as we join them."
Caesar poured himself, and his second in command, a goblet of wine, motioning for Brutus to take the silver cup from it's place on the tray on his desk, "And what of those four men who have been asking questions about people they should have no reason to believe are here?" he asked.
"My Lord," Brutus began tentatively, "Four centuries were dispatched to arrest them at their lodgings. The men barricaded themselves within their room, and by the time our soldiers had managed to batter past the obstructions, all four men had effected an escape through the window, and across the street where they were able to dodge across a roof and avoid arrest."
Caesar's face took on a hard cast as he looked at Brutus, "How very resourceful of them," he said quietly, "And just how, exactly did they manage to cross a street through the air?" he asked coldly.
"One of the men set up a rope that they slid down to get to the house opposite," explained Brutus as neutrally as he was able to. He had not been present at the scene and was merely reporting events as they'd been reported to him.
Caesar considered the wine in his cup for a long moment. Brutus wisely refrained from paying his beverage any attention whatsoever. He held it in his hand, but had assumed a position of attention and would remain so until, Caesar indicated his feelings about the situation.
"Do we know anything more about these four men?" asked Caesar.
Brutus considered, "We have full and detailed descriptions of them. They sound a very unusual group to be travelling together, although all four are Greeks. From the reports that have come in they spend much time in arguing amongst themselves. We also now have names for them," added the Roman, "although whether these are false or not, it would be difficult to know."
"And the names are?" asked Caesar lightly.
"The small blonde man, who seems, in a way, to keep the group together is called Iolaus. The man who accompanies him, the one people have described variously as a fool or a clown, is called Joxer. The tall dark one with the moustache and beard is known as Autolycus while the brooding young man with the long dark hair goes by the name of Toris," informed Brutus.
Caesar's eyes sharpened as the names were listed. His research into the Warrior Princess's life had been very thorough and the first three names figured prominently in her adventures and history. Yet it was the fourth that was of most interest to him. Capturing all of them would have given him extra ties on Xena, but that fourth man would have been almost as important as the bard. Blood ties went deep and he knew that Toris was the brother of Xena.
"The fools!" hissed Caesar in exasperation, "Netting those men would have tied Xena completely."
"My lord?" asked Brutus unaware of the significance of the men he believed to be of little importance.
Caesar banged his fist on the table, making the wine jug, and his cup lurch alarmingly. He looked at Brutus with a brooding anger, "The first of those men is a close friend, and was once a lover of Xena's, he's competent and very dangerous. The second man, although a fool, she treats as a family member. The third man is probably the most dangerous of all. He is a master thief, 'The King of Thieves' he is known as in Greece, and he has aided Xena on many occasions. But the fourth man. He would have been the true prize, for he is Xena's elder brother and would have been another chain on her. And the fools let them escape!"
Brutus looked discomforted. He did not know what Caesar had planned, but he did know that he aimed to use the Warrior Princess in some way, maybe more than one way. He was also aware it was like trying to hold a lion with a piece of twine. Caesar was playing a deep and dangerous game that was aimed at him achieving total power in the Roman world .. the man was emperor in name, but had his aims hampered by Pompey, who had strong support, and the senate who could still cause trouble. Brutus' aim was to ride his master's coat tail to his own place of dominance within that world. To do so he needed to retain Caesar's favour and ensure that his patron succeeded in his aims.
"My lord, I can order the garrison to make a sweep of the city. They'll find these four rogues and bring them to heel." he assured his commander.
"Don't be a fool Brutus," Caesar rebuked, though without rancour, "Those men are resourceful and able as well as being dangerous. The garrison would never find them and we don't have the time to spare now to direct a search." he fixed his subordinate with a penetrating stare, "You can be sure, though, that they will show up again, and when they do I want them taken."
"I'll order the guards to extra vigilance," Brutus announced, "I'll have their descriptions and names spread amongst the men and sent forward to the town garrisons on our route of march. If they show their faces again, we'll know about it and can arrange to have them taken."
Caesar considered this for a moment, "Double the watch on the girl," he ordered his aide.
"What of Xena, my Lord?" questioned Brutus.
"I think that the security there is well enough. I'm certain that Xena will not think of going anywhere while I hold her friend. No," he said at length, "the key remains the bard. While I have her safe, Xena is mine. The others would have been useful additional tools, though."
Her situation was bad enough with Gabrielle in his power. If he had Toris as well, things would probably get distinctly worse. Two threats held against her and her chances of ever breaking free of Caesar's clutches would be negligible! - Gods, but I loathe that man! - she had fumed silently to herself.
Yet if things went well, and they could manage to free Gabrielle from Caesar's clutches, it might just enable her to do something about her own situation. She looked forward to the day when her captors could not produce Gabrielle in proof that they still held her. It gave her something to dream about that night.
She was awoken early the next morning. There seemed to be an unusual stir within the guard room, something different from the routine that had prevailed as the soldiers had settled into their new accommodation. She opened her eyes sleepily, focusing on her internal clock which suggested that the time was somewhere before dawn. She sighed softly.
It wasn't unknown for the guards to roust her out for a quick check through the cell to make certain she hadn't managed to secure and hide a weapon. So far she had been able to keep her toothpick hidden from the legionaries, who were looking for something far larger. That tooth pick could be used as a weapon, but it was going to be far more useful for picking the locks on her chains when she finally got the chance to escape. The time her spirit had been lodged in Autolycus's body had provided her with a few more useful skills!
She turned her attention back to the soldiers. This morning's activity was definitely unusual. No one had approached the cell for a search, and the general activity throughout the guardroom suggested something different. To Xena's practised eye, the legionaries were moving in the purposeful way soldiers broke camp. Her eyes narrowed. If the soldiers were getting ready to move, she had little doubt that they'd be moving her and Gabrielle as well.
- Can Caesar be aware of Autolycus and the others? - she questioned herself. She could hardly credit that the Roman would be concerned about a handful of men that he could have arrested without any trouble to himself. She thought about that for a moment and smiled softly to herself, - Well maybe not! - she conceded. But she doubted that her captors were going to run away from four men, therefore the move must mean that Caesar was getting ready for whatever he was planning.
Needing to retrieve the toothpick from the blanket where it had remained hidden, Xena rolled over, rucking up the under cover as she did so, and then began to surreptitiously work the toothpick out of the hem. Once she had recovered it, she slid it into the collar of her shirt, working it around until any sign was hidden by the fall of her hair. With that accomplished, she stretched and rose from the stone bench, and was standing by the time the key to the cell grated in the lock and the door screeched open on hinges that needed to be oiled. The sound had become an everyday occurrence in her life, and she would not be sorry to say goodbye to it.
"Morning boys," she drawled lazily noticing that Blasius was the officer in command of the detail that moved purposefully into the cell, "You goin' somewhere ... like maybe Tartarus?" she asked with feigned politeness.
Gaius Blasius was not amused by her comment and raised his fist ready to strike while Xena stared at him contemptuously. Before the officer could swing his blow, however, Flaccus' voice boomed across the noisy guardroom, "Blasius! That will be enough!"
The junior officer slowly lowered his upraised fist, his eyes sparking with anger for her taunt and his inability to exact what he felt was due retribution, "There will be another time!" he growled at the Warrior Princess threateningly.
"Count on it!" she hissed back, not bothering to hide her disdain for the bully, and bringing a whole wealth of dangerous meaning to the few words.
Flaccus marched to the cell and gave the two antagonists an appraising glance, "Just do your job, Blasius. The General wants her ready for travel. If you can't handle the task, I'll find someone who can."
The threat was unmistakable. Blasius snapped off a smart salute and watched as Flaccus retraced his steps across the guardroom to continue his own preparations for the imminent move.
Xena watched the Roman under officer much as a cat watches a mouse. There was a chance to exploit an opportunity here, - Divide and Conquer is Caesar's motto, - she told herself. If she was careful how she went about it, she might just drive a wedge into the ranks of her guards.
Blasius held his hand out and was given a thick, black leather belt that had a metal ring fixed firmly into the centre of it, "Please give me an excuse," the bully said to her invitingly, "It will make my day to hear your little friend howl because you proved to be difficult."
Xena's jaw tightened a little, but she managed a sardonic twist to her lips as she answered him, "Not in your lifetime," they were words that could be taken more than one way.
"Turn around," he ordered with a snarl.
Taking her time, the warrior turned her back on him and waited as Blasius put his arms around her, as he settled the belt into place. He threaded the end through the buckle and pulled the belt savagely tight, leaving the metal ring on the front side in the centre of her stomach. With a nod to one of his men, Xena's manacles were released from the long chain to the ringbolt, and the padlock was used to lock the manacles to the ring on the leather belt. The system was effective in restricting the use of her hands. She had a limited freedom of movement that would ensure that she could not use her shackles as a weapon, should the opportunity arise for her.
"Caesar afraid that I'm gonna jump him?" she asked lazily.
"You're valuable property, Xena," came Patroclese's voice from outside the cell, "After all the time, effort and money put into acquiring you, you cannot blame Lord Caesar for looking to keep his investment safe."
"Oh can't I," she returned with a distinctly frosty look and a tone sharp enough to cut. "Would you like to tell me where we're going?" she invited, not expecting to get a useful answer, although she was fairly certain that she knew what Caesar intended. Enforced inactivity had given her plenty of time to think, and she knew how her enemy's mind worked.
"You'll find out when Lord Caesar is ready to reveal his plans," the healer told her with a friendly smile, "As we all will," he added.
"Uh huh," she replied neutrally. "Don't forget to bring the chess," she told him far more enthusiastically as Blasius shoved her towards the cell door. The forced momentum, made her stumble in the restrictive leg irons, but her quick reactions kept her upright and she shuffled along as well as she could manage to avoid other pushes.
"Just going to pack it," Patroclese told her as she passed him. "I think that we'll manage to play a game or two on the trip, although you're getting far too good for my poor skill," he complained, and in truth Xena usually won nine out of every ten games they played.
Once into the main guardroom, the soldiers formed up around her and she was marched through poorly lit corridors .. that she was seeing for the first time .. where nighttime torches guttered low, awaiting replacement. It seemed a long walk until they reached the openness of a well lit courtyard. Xena stopped and breathed deeply of the cool pre-dawn air, relishing the freshness after being kept so long from it.
Blasius shoved her to get her moving again and, this time, she was only kept upright by the tight press of bodies around her. She was moved out to the centre of the courtyard close to where a familiar wagon awaited her. The thought of returning to the cramped conditions of the cage, that she knew was within, almost made her grimace.
She looked around the crowded space for something to take her mind off of the coming ordeal of cramped and aching muscles and the inevitable bruising from the jolting she would be forced to endure.
A movement on the far side of the courtyard captured her attention, as she saw another body of soldiers enter with Gabrielle closely warded amongst them. When the bard saw Xena amongst her escort of soldiers, she attempted to move towards her, only to be shoved back roughly by a legionaries spear butt.
"Hey!" barked Xena at the unnecessary roughness of the treatment.
"Quiet slave," ordered Blasius, digging a heavy punch into Xena's unprotected kidneys eliciting a grunt of surprised pain in return.
"Leave her alone!" yelled the bard, throwing herself at her guards and bursting past them with a surprising display of strength, speed and agility that caught the soldiers totally unprepared.
- Gods in Olympus! - screamed Xena's brain as she called out in alarm, "Gabrielle! No!" But it was too late to halt her friend's forward charge.
Soldiers began to converge on the blonde with raised batons. The Warrior Princess, knowing there was little or no chance of reaching the bard, still tried anyway. She could not stand by and watch while Gabrielle was roughly handled. Screaming a battle cry, "Ai,ai,ai,ai,ai,ai!", Xena launched herself in a flip over the heads of her own guards to land with crashing force on five men heading menacingly towards the bard.
The dark haired woman and the five soldiers went down into a tangled heap, as Gabrielle's arms were snagged by two of the guards she had avoided. The honey blonde was pulled to a stop, her arms twisted behind her in a painful lock, as she watched the struggling melee that thrashed on the ground.
Anger, resentment and plain, stubborn, pride, fired the fighting instincts that Xena had been forced to keep a lid on for so long. As she struggled, the familiar dark rage slipped its bonds and compelled her to fight, even though it was a hopeless task. She drove a two footed kick into the stomach of one of the struggling soldiers, ejecting him from the roiling heap to kneel heaving at the edge of the conflict. With limited use of her hands, she employed her head to good effect, using it to deliver crunching butts to anything that came close. One soldier's thigh came invitingly to hand, and a stabbing thrust of her fingers left him screaming in agony as she hit the nerve centre that made the leg a pain filled useless limb.
But there was no way that she could hope to win. Restricted in her movement and ability to defend herself, when six more soldiers leapt into the fray the shear weight of combined numbers finally managed to pin her flat, face down, to the ground. She bucked and heaved, driven by the animal desire to fight for freedom even against insurmountable odds, until she finally managed to regain control of herself and lock the dark rage, that had broken free, back into the silent recesses of her soul.
"What's going on here?" demanded the voice of authority as Caesar stormed into the courtyard to be confronted by chaotic turmoil.
Flaccus snapped off a salute as he presented himself before his commander, "Sir, your slaves broke free of their guards and had to be subdued." he explained.
"And what was the reason for their actions." he growled, knowing full well that Xena wasn't fool enough to attempt an escape when heavily shackled and surrounded in a courtyard by nearly two hundred crack soldiers.
Flaccus explained the events that had lead up to the brawl and Caesar's brown eyes seemed to bore into everyone in that courtyard with a hardness that spoke volumes about his irritation here. The two women needed to be handled with care. Push the wrong buttons and the Warrior Princess exploded into an unstoppable killing machine. He frowned at the soldier who lay clutching his leg and groaned in agony.
His eyes flickered slowly over the bard who strained impotently against the two burly guards who held her and then fixed on Xena who no longer struggled, but remained pinned to the ground by ten men. Acts of defiance could not be permitted. The two women had to be made to understand and accept that they were property, condemned to slavery for their crimes, and as such, subject to discipline for their behaviour. He could not show Xena any weakness that she might exploit. However, the last thing he needed, at this time, was to inflict harsh punishment on either bard or warrior. He needed both to be fit and healthy .. especially Xena. - Very well then. The punishments need to fit the crimes. They need to be hard but not debilitating. -
"It appears that an ill thought out act of defiance from the bard brought this about," Caesar said consideringly, "Very well then. In fairness if she is to be punished for Xena's transgressions, it is only right that it work the other way. Therefore, Xena will receive fifteen strokes of your staff of office, Centurion."
"You can't do that!" objected Gabrielle angrily, "It wasn't Xena's fault."
"No," agreed Caesar mildly, "it was yours. Just as it's her fault for becoming involved in the incident after she had been warned about the price for such resistance. For that, you'll get five strokes."
"Caesar!" yelled Xena, starting to struggle against those who held her again.
"Be very careful, Xena," warned the Roman coldly. "Those five strokes are lenient for your part in this and they can easily be raised."
The Warrior Princess subsided under the soldiers hands once more, although her eyes watched Caesar with a deadly intent, "The girl first, Flaccus," he instructed.
Gabrielle was hauled over to the wagon, where a wrists were quickly tied to a wheel. Flaccus's staff of office was thick, heavy wood that had been carved with vine leaves. Xena knew from past experience that it could raise heavy weals and a cause a lot of pain.
The first blow landed across the blondes shoulders, and made her yell with anger as much as pain. The second was inflicted slightly lower and brought a louder cry. The third blow was again aimed a little lower and Xena heard her friend choke back a sob. The fourth stroke was aimed across the bard's hips and the sobbing intensified as the final blow fell on her thighs.
Gabrielle was cut free of the wagon and moved, unresisting, by her guards to a spot where she stood, arms wrapped around her body, trying to choke back the tears that streamed down her cheeks. The beating could have been worse, but she was still recovering from the punishment she had taken just the day before, and the bard was not used to such pain.
At Flaccus's nod, the soldiers pinning Xena down on the courtyard ground, roughly hoisted her to her feet. She'd taken no injury from the struggle and with her body fit and healthy she doubted that the ordained fifteen strokes would harm her unduly. Caesar was obviously trying to instil discipline without disabling her. The soldier's secured her to the same wheel that Gabrielle had been tied to, and Flaccus administered the fifteen strokes with his normal impartiality. Xena willed herself to make no sound. The vine staff was heavy and painful, but it didn't rip her flesh as the whip had done. She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes and stood rock steady through the ordeal, knowing that Gabrielle winced with every blow, feeling responsible for them ... which was exactly what Caesar wanted!
Released from the wheel, Xena stood straight and turned her cold hatred upon Caesar, who smiled back at her knowing just how much it infuriated her when he did so. "Now that we have that little piece of unpleasantness out of the way, perhaps we can get on with the business at hand," he said brusquely. As he turned away he noticed the groaning soldier once more. Patroclese had shown up and was unable to do anything for the man's injury or agony, "You'll oblige me by fixing whatever you did to that man," he told Xena flatly.
There wasn't really anyway to avoid the order. Leaving the 'pinch' on would be an act of viciousness that she no longer allowed herself to do. Defying Caesar would bring more harm to Gabrielle. Pursing her lips, she moved with her shuffling step over to the writhing man and released the nerves with a practised twist of her hand, "You'll be fine in a few minutes," she told him coldly.
Caesar smiled at his victory, minor though it was. The more that Xena could be coerced into obedience, the sooner she would have to come to accept her new situation. He motioned for the soldiers to get on with their preparations, as he stalked off to where his horse stood patiently awaiting him.
The soldiers began to form up, and Xena was roughly manhandled into the wagon and shoved into her travelling cage. She was, however, surprised when Gabrielle was also thrown into the wagon. A leg iron was produced and locked around the bard's right ankle with the other end being fastened to the bars of the cage. "It seems we're going to be travelling together," smiled the Warrior Princess, relieved at having the bard's company, even in the conditions they found themselves. A section of her mind noted the presence of her six watchdogs as well, but they had become a part of her current existence and she had learned to ignore them.
Gabrielle smiled at her and began to apologise saying, "Xena, I just didn't think. When he hit you I suppose my instincts took over ...."
"I know Gabrielle. It doesn't matter," she shrugged off the beating like shedding a coat. "I shouldn't have reacted, then you wouldn't have been beaten."
"Quits?" suggested the bard, deciding that it would be better to end the mutual self recriminations before they truly got started. Her smile deepened at her friends nod of agreement.
"Quits," agreed Xena, basking in the warmth of Gabrielle's smile and realizing, yet again, just how much she missed not being with the bard.
"What's Caesar up to?" asked the blonde as she heard the order to march given. "I mean, all the effort to keep us apart and now this." she said indicating the wagon, "Not that I'm complaining," she added hastily.
Xena shrugged a little stiffly, "It's probably safer to keep us together while we're on the move. We've got a whole maniple surrounding us at the moment and I'm willing to bet that Caesar's got the VIIth Legion all ready and waiting to form up around us too."
"Xena," Gabrielle frowned, puzzled, "have you got any idea what he's up to?"
"Maybe, Gabrielle," she admitted softly, "Just maybe."
Chapter Twenty Two: Into the Pit
"Well just let them poke their heads in here," offered Joxer belligerently, "Joxer the Mighty knows how to deal with Romans," he declared with a theatrical ferocity as he drew his sword and brandished it at an imaginary foe.
"Cut it out, Joxer" Iolaus told him impatiently, "you can barely deal cards let alone deal with Romans."
"Ah ha!" replied the sallow faced man, "that was the old Joxer! The new Joxer has a lust for the blood of those who threaten his friends," he said with a repeated flourish of his weapon.
"C'mon Joxer, I've see you fight," Iolaus told him, "If you had a fight with a chicken, I'd bet on the chicken to win."
"Have you been talking to Autolycus?" asked Joxer suspiciously, "No he wouldn't have said anything about that, would he?" he muttered as he put the sword back into the scabbard and sat down on the dirty floor brooding about chickens and how his brother Jet was doing in prison in Myramas. His stomach rumbled loudly, "You know we could do with a chicken here about now, or any kind of food for that matter."
"Any sign of the thief," asked Toris from where he was laying on a grubby blanket in the corner of the room.
Iolaus took another look out of the window and grimaced at the pouring rain that was keeping most sensible people off of the streets, "Not yet," he announced. "But he'll be back. Autolycus is the proverbial bad dinar, he always shows up."
It was frustrating being dependant upon the sardonic thief to turn up news, but since their dramatic exit from the inn two days previously, the four of them had spent their time dodging and hiding from patrols that were very evidently looking for them. Of the four, Autolycus was the best equipped for 'sneaking' around to gather information and some of the things that they were going to need. Iolaus could probably have helped him. He'd been a pretty fair thief in his younger days. But both he and Autolycus felt that neither Toris, nor Joxer, should be left alone. The first because he was too hot headed and ran headlong into things without thinking them through. The second because he didn't think at all! or at least not very often. So Iolaus was left to play nursemaid on the pair which left the King of Thieves free to do what he did best .. next to theft that was .. which was sneaking around where he didn't belong.
The trouble was, he'd been gone longer than expected. And, as much as the blonde hated to admit it, he was beginning to get worried about the thief. Autolycus tended to grate on his nerves, but he was a useful man to have around - If you can ignore all the egotism that goes with him! - he thought sourly.
He was just about to turn away from the window when a heavily cloaked figure attracted his attention as it slipped cautiously along the street towards the building where they were hidden. Autolycus, for Iolaus was certain that that is who it was, carried a large bundle that surprised the small blonde man and engaged his curiosity, "Now what in the world has he got there," he wondered aloud.
"Autolycus?" asked Joxer shifting quickly from gloom to expectation as Toris stood up and drew his sword, just in case the person who came through the door was not whom they were expecting.
Iolaus moved to the doorway that they had wedged shut with a small wooden shim. He listened for pre-arranged signal, "Knock .... knock, knock." before kicking the wedge out and dragging back the door that grated across the floor where the hinges had weakened.
Autolycus slipped in quickly, throwing off the black cloak that had protected him from the worst of the weather and hidden him from the notice of the patrols that were all over the city, while Iolaus heaved the door back into place and 'locked' it with the shim.
"That is no way to spend a morning," complained the thief as he shook his head to rid himself of some of the water that saturated him, despite the cloak.
"What did you find out?" asked Iolaus eager to hear any news.
"Did ya get anything to eat?" asked Joxer hopefully.
"What about Xena?" demanded Toris.
Autolycus bent and unpacked the bundle he'd been carrying, answering the questions as he did so, "Caesar and that special detail maniple of his, moved out with that covered wagon yesterday. They met up with the VIIth Legion outside the city and headed south on the road to Arelate." He threw Joxer a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese. "Xena and Gabrielle have to be in that wagon. There was nowhere else for them to be, and I don't think Caesar intends letting them far out of his sight anyway."
"Why south?" wondered Iolaus, "I know that he could get a ship for Rome at Massilia, but if he does that, what's the point of everything he's done so far?"
"Arelate is a staging city. He could continue on south-east from there and go to Massilia," Toris told them thinking hard, "Or he could take the north road and head for Lugdunum. I'm betting that he'll head that way."
"But why go south then?" repeated Iolaus puzzled, "If he was heading for Lugdunum it would have been quicker to cut north-east from here."
There was silence within the room, except for Joxer's contented munching, as the men tried to work out what was going on. Iolaus looked down at the other items in Autolycus's bundle, "What's all that for?" he questioned.
"Ah," smiled the thief, "It seems we have some added problems. Namely our descriptions are being circulated everywhere, and they are being linked to a very healthy reward. It seems that Caesar objects to anyone poking their noses into his business."
"Too bad!" snarled Toris.
"Yes well, that's as may be, but it causes us some problems because we are a rather identifiable group, or at least some of us are," Autolycus said with a pointed look at Joxer, "and we're going to have to do something about our appearances if we are going to have any hope of doing what we came here for."
"What are you all looking at me for?" demanded Joxer around a mouthful of cheese, "I'm not the only one they've got a description of."
"True," agreed the King of Thieves, "but you are the most noticeable. However, I have got disguises for each of us. Which I suggest we use, so that we can get out of this city and back on the trail of Xena and Gabrielle."
The first day's travel had proven uneventful. Gabrielle had chatted about inconsequentialities, lulling Xena with the familiarity of her voice and the ordinary topics of conversation she chose, realizing that they had to avoid the subject of the letters and the men who had answered them.
At one point, Gabrielle surprised the Warrior Princess by reminding her of the name game they had been playing all those long days ago on the road to Menassos, "I think I've worked out your name," she said with a thoughtful grin, "He's someone you knew before you went to Chin. I know him and he's still alive."
"At the moment," Xena breathed sourly as her mouth twisted into a grimace of distaste.
"Ah, ha!" cried the bard jubilantly, drawing startled looks from the guards, "I must be right then. It's Caesar! Go on admit it!"
"Very well done," congratulated the Warrior with heavy sarcasm, "It's only taken you just over a moon to work it out."
"I know," smiled Gabrielle happily, "but I told you I'd get it."
"Indeed you did," agreed Xena mockingly as she tried to straighten her legs out a bit, the tight conditions of the cage cramped her muscles, and with her manacles locked to her belt, she couldn't reach to massage the aching joints.
The bard saw her friend's face give the barest twitch of discomfort as she shifted her position. Reaching through the bars, she gently massaged the calf muscles of Xena's legs, doing her best to relieve some of the Warrior Princess' suffering. It helped ... a little, but it was going to be very uncomfortable if she was forced to spend the whole time in the cage as she had for most of the trip up to Nemausus.
The evening camp was set up with the normal Roman precision and economy of effort, with the unusual addition of the wagon in the centre of the camp. The VIIth Legion had grown used to the presence of the wagon on their march up from Narbo, so it attracted far less attention than it had before, but Xena still caught the occasional murmur about treasure from voices at a distance.
With the fall of darkness, however, Flaccus appeared and hoisted himself aboard, unlocking Gabrielle's chain from the bar it had been attached to, as well as unfastening the door to the cage, "Both of you out," he told them curtly, much to their joint surprise.
Gabrielle's leg iron was collected by one of the six guards, while Xena was pulled out of her confinement and supported by two 'helpful' soldiers who took a firm grip on her arms to make sure she didn't pull any more of the stunts she'd employed that morning.
The pair were escorted from the wagon to a large tent, erected next to Caesar's command pavilion. Inside, a metal stake, topped by a ringbolt, had been driven into the ground. The free cuff of Gabrielle's leg iron, was passed through the ringbolt and fastened to Xena's left ankle in addition to the one she already wore.
The Warrior Princess scanned the inside of the tent and counted twelve guards in addition to the six who had escorted them in from the wagon. Her eyes flickered to the Centurion, "In case you're considering something foolish, you should know that there will be twenty-five men stationed around this tent as well as those in here. The Emperor, in his wisdom, is a merciful man, and he sees no reason for you to remain confined in the cage at night ... so long as you do not abuse his goodwill."
"If he's giving me room to stretch my legs," Xena told the bard in a low voice, "then it's because it suits his purpose to do so. It seems that he doesn't want me in a crippled condition, for now."
Gabrielle looked at Flaccus and asked, "When do we get something to eat? If you need someone to cook some food, I could always lend a hand."
Flaccus made a gesture and the guards tossed each of the women a blanket, "Very good of you I'm sure," replied the stiff necked Roman, although a smile almost cracked his military facade, "But I'm afraid the physician has related tales of your culinary expertise, and has advised you be kept away from any cooking in case the army comes down with an unfortunate case of flux."
"Big mouth," murmured the bard, although Xena wasn't sure if it was Patroclese she was talking about or herself.
"You'll get a hot meal just as soon as it's been prepared," assured Flaccus, before leaving the tent.
Xena and Gabrielle, spread out their blankets and sat down. Any chance of escape still seemed way off, but at least they were able to talk softly in some privacy with the guards scattered around the edge of the tent.
"You understood what I meant about Autolycus?" asked Xena softly.
"I guessed," the bard answered, "How did you get to see him?"
"He found a way into the airshaft. We only had a chance for a few words, and even that was enough to earn you a strapping." the warrior said with bitterness.
"Never mind, Xena. It was important to speak to Autolycus," she looked at the dark haired woman and said very quietly, "and getting me sent back to the tower early gave me the chance to glimpse Iolaus and Joxer out in the market."
"J ..." Xena almost blurted out before looking around hurriedly to make sure no one was taking any more notice than usual, and continuing, "Joxer? What in Hades is he doing here? You didn't send him one of your letters, did you?"
"Of course I didn't," came the bard's sharp reply, "But you know what he's like," she said in a far more hushed tone. "He's got more heart than brain and if he found out about this, I don't think anything could have stopped him from coming."
Xena nodded moodily, agreeing with the blonde's assessment, "Did you see anything of Toris," she asked barely moving her lips.
Gabrielle shook her head in a negative, "I don't know what any of them will be able to do while we're surrounded by a whole legion, anyway." she said disconsolately.
"They'll find a way to get you to safety," promised the Warrior Princess.
"What about you?" hissed the bard.
Xena's smile was chilly as she said, "Caesar won't find it so easy to keep hold of me, once he loses you."
"What if he decides that if he hasn't got me, that he'll kill you?" asked the bard as she stiffened the slight tremor in her voice.
"That's not going to happen," Xena told her confidently, "He wants to prove his dominance over me. I think I'm his challenge in life. He's tried to kill me before and failed, so I think he's going to try and find out what makes me tick."
"You can't be certain of that," muttered Gabrielle, worry evident in her face.
"Nothing's ever certain, Gabrielle," the Warrior Princess told her, "Ah, I think dinner is here," she said changing the subject as they were handed a chunk of brown bread each and a plate of stew.
The meal was normal army fare, not bad but far from something to tempt the jaded appetite. Luckily, both Xena and Gabrielle were too hungry to care. The bard had noted that her friend had lost an awful lot of weight during her captivity .. most of it due to the starvation and the fever she had contracted. The Warrior Princess was gradually putting back some of her lost body tone, but it was a slow process and would take time yet.
After they had eaten, Patroclese found his way into the tent along with his chess board. He and Xena played a game, while the Warrior Princess explained the pieces and their moves to the bard. It passed some time before they settled down to sleep.
The next day had brought the rain, but they had also made it to Arelate around about mid afternoon, although the dark, thunderous skies made it seem later. Here, Xena was again locked into an open cell, very similar to the one she had been in at Nemausus. Gabrielle had been taken somewhere else. The big difference here, was, that they had been taken to the Prefecture, which housed not only the Prefect.. Arelate's head of government .. but also the most secure dungeons.
"You will come with me," he instructed motioning her to step out of the cell.
It was unusual, but perhaps Caesar was getting ready to play his game, although she hadn't expected anything to happen until they had travelled further to the north, as she was certain they would.
Surrounded by twenty guards, Xena was escorted out through the torch lit corridors she had come through that afternoon. She was aware from the changing decoration, within the building, that she was being taken into the main residency of the Prefect. Bare, damp walls of the cells beneath the ground were replaced by the drier walls of the servant's areas until she was passing elaborate hangings, costly furnishings and fine porcelains displayed to show the wealth and power of this petty bureaucrat.
A change of direction took them down some steps and through a door into a very unusual room. Xena quickly familiarised herself with her new surroundings, and began to get that feeling that charged the blood in her veins .. an expectation of trouble.
The 'room' was a twenty foot square with fifteen foot high walls that opened up to a surrounding gallery. She recognised it for what it was immediately. A fighting pit. She looked up with narrowed eyes searching for Caesar, she found him almost at once as he leaned on the rail to look down on her.
"Here's my slave, Lucullus," he told his companion, a fat, balding man who affected an ostentatious show of his wealth, sporting gold and jewels over his hands and around his neck.
Lucullus looked sharply at the shackles and the strong guard that had accompanied the slave into the pit, "It's a woman!" he almost laughed with incredulity, "You want to pit a woman against my champion gladiator, Benidor? Why I'd almost be ashamed to take your money." he chuckled, "Almost!"
"Would you care to double the wager," smiled Caesar politely, "say one hundred thousand dinars?"
Lucullus looked like a vulture about to feed, "You're sure that you can afford such stakes, Caesar. I had heard that you were running short of money."
"I can cover my bet, should my slave lose," Caesar told him grimly, "But there is just one condition to the match."
Lucullus looked at the great Caesar with a smugness a rich man feels when he looks at someone in need of funds. He knew that Caesar's personal treasury was almost empty. It took a lot of money to buy and maintain power in Rome and Caesar had been said to have been spending lavishly on some private project. If Lucullus played his cards right, the mighty Caesar, Emperor of Rome, might just wind up in his pocket. "Are you saying you wish to back out. Are the stakes to rich for you after all?"
Caesar used all his diplomatic skill at dissemblance to deny the sleight made upon him and explained, "The bet has been made the stakes pledged, my condition is that there should be no weapons involved in this contest."
"If you're hoping to preserve the woman's life," laughed Lucullus in amusement, "you should know that Benidor is the area's bare knuckle champion and he has killed six men in unarmed fights, here in this very pit."
"Never the less, I want no weapon to fall into my slave's hands," Caesar insisted.
Lucullus took a longer look at the woman below him. He had taken the strong guard as a token of gamesmanship, but he now noted the heavy chains and the way that the soldiers watched the woman's every movement. She stood relaxed, her eyes rivetted on her 'master'.
Beads of perspiration appeared on Lucullus's brow as he considered what the loss of 100,000 dinars would do to his finances. He was a rich man, it was true. But such a huge sum would take him years to recover. Caesar looked at him with calm assurance as if reading his mind, "I think you're bluffing," Lucullus told him at last. He couldn't afford to show weakness here, "A bare handed fight is agreed for the stake proposed."
It was at that point the woman spoke. Her voice carried the whisper of ice and her tone, death, "You are assuming that I'll play your game, Caesar!" she said.
This was not how a slave talked to her master. Lucullus shot a puzzled look at his powerful guest and was surprised to see him smile. It was a grim smile, but it showed none of the wrath that Lucullus would have been ready to inflict on his own slaves if they'd had the audacity to speak to him in that way.
"You'll play the game, Xena," he told her with a superior certainty. "You see, should you lose, I'll give Benidor your friend, Gabrielle, as a prize."
- If looks could kill, - thought Lucullus as he observed the by-play between the two.
"Oh, yes," continued Caesar, "just in case you decided that this was your chance to kill me," he made a gesture and the Warrior Princess saw the bard brought forward to the rail, with a soldier holding a knife to her throat," I brought Gabrielle here to watch the contest. The first false move from you and she'll have her throat cut."
"Is the woman that dangerous?" asked Lucullus almost in awe, trying to remember where he had heard mention of that name before.
"You have no idea," said Caesar almost too softly to be heard. "One last thing, Xena," he said, "Don't give the guards any trouble when the fight ends. It will only be Gabrielle who suffers, you know." He gave a nod to Flaccus, who unlocked the manacles at her wrists and removed the belt from her waist, before releasing her from the leg irons.
Lucullus watched her like he would watch a snake and for all his seeming ease, Caesar did much the same, his hand glued to the hilt of his sword as if in instant readiness to draw it. Xena stood calmly massaging her wrists, barely registering the exit of her guards while she awaited the entrance of her opponent from a door opposite.
Benidor was a hulking brute of a professional gladiator. He stood over six foot six in height, with a wide spread of shoulders that supported thick rippling muscle. His face and body bore the scars of past fights and his nose showed signs of having been broken at least twice.
Xena made eye contact with him and saw animal cunning and meanness there, but little in the way of intelligence. The trick was going to be to defeat him without getting close enough for him to pound her senseless. She started to move around him, slowly, exhibiting the smooth, fluid, grace that took control in dangerous situations.
The gladiator threw a meaty fist at her, but she danced lightly out of the way, never losing eye contact with the brute. She read the coming lunge in his eyes and was ready for it, meeting him with a sharp heeled kick to his gut, that made him draw a deep breath and the crashing, backhand, left fist that smashed into his jaw almost rocked him.
He shook his head, a look of respect crept into his eyes as he tried to plan his attack. The easy victory he had envisioned would not be forthcoming. The woman was strong and had skill. His mind registered the faint smile that played across her face. She was enjoying herself.
Gabrielle watched in fascination as Xena sparred with the giant, looking for openings to exploit. The Warrior Princess's fighting skills never ceased to exhilarate her. She was so good at what she did that you could lose yourself in the beauty and grace of the movements as she seemed to dance through the danger.
Benidor feinted with his right fist, but whipped a sizzling left hook across that would have probably decapitated Xena if it had connected fully. As it was, the punch threw her off balance as she rode it, which was enough for the gladiator to wade in and start pounding her body with heavy blows. His fists were like sledge hammers as they thudded into her rib cage. Ignoring the punishment as best she could, she clapped her hands together, with all the force she could muster, on either side of his head.
"Arrhhhh!" screamed Benidor, as his eardrums ruptured with excruciating pain. Blood trickled down his lobes as he shook his head to try and clear it. But Xena followed up with a high, leaping kick to the big man's face. It should have been enough to poleaxe a steer, but the man remained standing and his eyes showed the blood lust of a maddened beast.
Xena stood before him, and beckoned him on, "C'mon," she encouraged, "Come and get me."
As Benidor rushed at her, arms flung wide to grasp her into a crushing bear hug, Xena executed a high, forward, flip, that carried her over the hulking brute and safely behind him. As she landed, she turned quickly and planted a solid kick at the base of his spine, adding to his momentum, to send him crashing into the wall of the pit.
He stood as if pinned to the stone for a moment, before he carefully pushed himself away from the wall, and turned to face his tormentor, shaking his head groggily as he did so. Xena noted in a detached part of her mind, that the collision with the wall had broken his nose again.
Moving far faster than she expected, Benidor lunged out and grabbed her right arm, pulling her closer to him where he delivered a knee to her stomach that folded her up. Drawing back his left fist, he drove it into her face sending her tumbling to the ground. The giant threw himself down on top of his opponent, only to find that Xena had twisted, lightning quick, out of his grasp.
As Benidor tried to scramble to his feet, Xena aimed a heavy punch just behind his right ear that saw him collapse bonelessly to the ground. Breathing deeply, Xena stood above the fallen man and shot a venom filled glare at Caesar.
"Very good, Xena," congratulated Caesar contentedly. "Very well fought."
The Warrior Princess glanced to where the soldier held a dagger to the bard's throat. If he had given her just half a chance, then she would have taken it, but with Gabrielle's life being so visibly threatened, she couldn't afford to venture the risk. She forced herself to relax as Flaccus re-entered the pit and fastened the belt back around her waist, wincing a little from the bruising her ribs had taken again. She held up her wrists for him to lock the manacles in place and stood patiently while the leg irons were replaced, never once taking her eyes from Caesar's.
"Take her back to her cell," he ordered, with a satisfied smile, "Patroclese will be along to check on her injuries."
Lucullus looked down on his unmoving gladiator. No one had ever come close to doing that to Benidor before. Of course the man had taken punishment in his career, but he had never been even close to losing. The Prefect licked his lips. The woman, Xena, could be the mightiest gladiator the Roman world had ever seen. With the right management, she would make her owner a fortune.
"Caesar," he said, the light of avarice shining in his eyes. "How much would it cost me to buy her from you?" "Lucullus," the Roman noble replied with a hint of amusement in his voice, "you don't have enough money. In fact I don't think there's enough gold in the world to make me sell her."
"Five hundred thousand dinars," said the prelate quickly, "No, one million!" he amended as he saw the rejection in Caesar's eyes.
"Apart from the fact that I don't think you have that amount," Caesar told him, "I would not trust that woman in anyone's hands but my own. You asked earlier if she was dangerous? Well, let me just say that those guards were not there for show. Even chained and collared as she is, she is no one's slave ... yet. But she will be bent to my use, one way or another."
"Xena, that's her name, isn't it?" mused Lucullus, the name tickling a distant memory, he watched as three slaves entered the pit to carry Benidor away to the infirmary. News of something in Rome seemed to be connected to the woman's name, "Isn't she the woman who tried to assassinate you?" he asked suddenly, remembering hearing about the event some months previously.
Caesar looked at him, his brown eyes burning with intensity, his features set in a darkly fiendish smile that was never meant to touch his eyes, "The very one," he agreed with a casualness that belied the savageness of the look, "and there is no way I will ever release her ... alive! So, my friend, you'll just have to content yourself with paying me the money you lost in our wager, and with the knowledge that you saw her first fight as a gladiator." He took the fat little prefect's arm and steered him away from the gallery rail and back towards the main apartments where a feast awaited them.
"So this wasn't just an isolated contest? You intend to fight her in public?" asked Lucullus with growing interest.
"In time," Caesar told him, pleasantly, "all in good time."
He found her sitting on a wooden bench, that was securely fastened to the wall. The fingers of her left hand were lightly pressed to her jaw, which she worked back and forth with a show of mild discomfort. As she looked up at him, he noted with professional objectivity the added bruises on her right cheek and jaw, which made a muffled clicking sound as she continued to work it. She was sitting hunched over, suggesting her ribs had taken punishment again, and her knuckles were a little grazed.
She looked at him levelly when she noticed his critical survey of her and told him blandly, "You should see the other guy."
Patroclese shook his head. He'd come to appreciate Xena's dry sense of humour, even on those occasions when she directed it at him. He recognised that she used it like a shield to deflect the intense emotions that she was not comfortable with .. not the anger, hate and rage that were part of her make up, but the softer emotions of caring, comforting and, of course, love.
"All right, what's the damage this time?" he asked knowing it would be quicker for her to tell him, then for him to find out by examining her.
"Nothing serious," she told him dismissively. "Some bruises around the ribcage and face, a slight dislocation on the jaw, and some scraped knuckles."
"Pull your shirt up," he ordered without thinking.
Xena lifted her hands as far as they would go and then shrugged at him, "If you took these off it would be easier," she told the healer neutrally.
"Don't you ever give up?" he asked as he motioned her to stand, so he could tug the shirt free from the belt, and lift it high enough to take a critical look at the skin that was beginning to show the mottled purple of bruising.
"No," answered Xena intently, "Not ever."
Patroclese suppressed a shudder. There was an obdurate determination in the woman that was an unstoppable force, much like an avalanche, nothing could stand in its way ... and if someone should be foolish enough to do so, the end would likely be very similar. "Hold still while I fetch the liniment, it'll take the worst of the sting and stiffness out of those bruises around your ribs and face. Then I'll bathe those knuckles. We don't want any more infections, do we?" the healer said sympathetically.
Xena watched Patroclese as he ministered to her hurts with a professional thoroughness. He was a talented physician who showed care and consideration for those he treated. Even her! In some ways, especially her. Yet he had sent her into a trap and tricked Gabrielle into falling into another. She gave him a frankly considering look, before asking him, "Why do you follow Caesar?"
"I thought I'd told you," he answered as he dabbed the cold liquid onto the required area.
"No," she said slowly, "I don't believe you have."
Patroclese sighed as he stopped what he was doing to look her full in the eyes, "It must have been Gabrielle I told ... while we were on the ship" he admitted.
"Well," she prompted gently, as he continued his work with the liniment.
"My family have been in the service of the family of Caesar for generations. Lord Caesar saw that I had some talent for healing and ensured that I was trained by the best of the Roman physicians. He has always treated me and my family well. He has always been a good master to serve." He said it as if he was reeling of something he had rehearsed a dozen times.
There was a look of doubt flickering somewhere in the back of his eyes. Xena saw it and allowed the silence to draw out as she waited for Patroclese to continue. Instinct told her that if she said anything now, he would clam up and become defensive of both his master and himself.
The, almost, accusatory silence eventually forced the healer to continue his thoughts, "When I was asked to go to Greece to find you and bait my Lord's trap, I asked about you to find out what kind of woman you were," he saw the grim look in her eyes and guessed her thoughts, "No, I didn't ask Lord Caesar, it wouldn't have been right, he would have thought I was doubting him. But everyone I did ask told of a woman warrior warlord who had sacked and despoiled countless nations. You were the 'Destroyer of Nations' so I was told. I also knew of your attempt on Caesar's life ..."
Xena cut off a sharp angry laugh as she said, "Believe me, Patroclese, If I'd wanted him dead at that time, he'd be dead."
The healer bobbed his head in a nod to acknowledge the validity of the statement, he knew it wasn't an idle boast, "Anyway, from all I'd heard, I was proud that my Lord had entrusted me with such a dangerous, important task. You sounded like someone that the world would be far better off without."
Xena made a non-committal grunt. That she in some part agreed with him was not something that would be appropriate to admit at this time. Her regrets for the suffering and destruction that she had caused in her past were hers to bear alone. She could not share them with anyone, not even with Gabrielle, fully, "But?" she prompted gently.
"But you have proven to be nothing ..." he gave her a considering look, remembering the report he'd heard on her capture, and having seen the trouble she had wrought in Nemausus, chained as she was, "or shall we say, very little like those descriptions I had of you."
She looked at him with her steady blue gaze. It felt to Patroclese as if she were boring into his soul, "The evil is a part of me," she said simply, "It's a part of everyone, some more than others. Some, like Gabrielle, barely know it's there. There was a time when evil was the only thing that filled me. I was able to change that. I am not the woman I was, I am not the person that I will become. We all change a little everyday. The choices we make, the deeds we perform, they all make their marks upon our souls and change us for the better ... or the worse."
"Are you saying that by serving my Lord I have committed an act of evil?" demanded Patroclese defensively.
Xena's features were a study of seriousness as she replied, "No ... Only you can say and know that, Patroclese. You are the guardian of your own soul."
Silence descended between them once again, as the healer finished his ministrations. Once completed, he helped Xena pull the shirt back under the belt, before packing his things up and leaving the cell. She'd given him a lot to think about. He was torn between his duty to his master and what he saw as an unjust action on his part.
Xena watched him go with mixed emotions. She liked Patroclese. Even with all he had done. She could feel the goodness within him and begrudged Caesar his loyalty. The Roman noble was unworthy of it. She needed an ally in the enemy camp and turning Patroclese to her side would give it to her. But she regretted the turmoil and heartache it would bring to the healer. Yet she would do whatever she had to, in order to save Gabrielle ... and maybe herself.
The thief slapped at his companion's hand as Joxer fidgeted with the unaccustomed shapes on the front of his chest. A passing pair of soldiers looked at them as they sauntered off for an evening in a local tavern and Autolycus told Joxer quite loudly, but in a voice very different from his usual arrogant sarcasm, "Because that skirt and blouse suits you my dearest."
"Ya think so?" asked Joxer slightly mollified as he twitched the manufactured breasts back into place.
"No!" hissed the thief in his usual tones as he led his 'wife' down the street well away from the Roman legionaries, "And if you don't stop pulling that disguise about we're going to be in big trouble."
"Well I never wanted to play the woman in the first place," grumbled the sallow faced man, "Why couldn't you have been the woman. Yeah," he said allowing his imagination to run away with him, "you could have been a warrior's woman. In a town like this that would have worked well," he declared.
Autolycus pulled his 'woman' into a doorway as three more Romans wandered down the street. They all looked at the pair in the shadows, but they cheered lewdly and offered coarse suggestions when the thief threw a hand around Joxer's waist and began to fondle his behind. The other hand went behind his partners neck as he acted out a long and passionate kiss.
As the legionaries continued on their way, laughing, Autolycus released his holds and wiped his hand roughly over his face as Joxer spluttered before demanding, "What did ya do that for?" spitting theatrically and pulling a sour face. Then, not waiting for an answer, "No don't tell me it was necessary for the disguise."
"You got that right at least, and" he continued not letting Joxer get another word in, "in answer to your other question, you're the woman because I've got a beard and a moustache."
"I know women who've got moustaches," responded Joxer quickly, "and beards too for that matter."
"I just bet you do!" answered the thief with heavy sarcasm, taking a peep around outside the alley to make sure the coast was clear. "Now come on. Iolaus and Toris will be expecting us."
They hurried quickly through the rain drenched streets as they made their way towards the west end of the city. They found the other two back at the tavern they had arranged to meet in. Toris looked unhappy in the farmer's smock and peasant cap that Autolycus had procured for him, while Iolaus looked daggers at the thief, while he sat uncomfortably in his own female attire.
- Well there's no pleasing everybody, - thought the King of Thieves with a wicked smile, - At least the disguises got us out of Nemausus and down here to Arelate without any trouble. -
"I don't see as there's anything to smile at," grumbled Iolaus shortly as Autolycus sat down opposite him.
"Oh c'mon, Curly," Autolycus chided him happily, just for the fun of seeing Iolaus further aggravated. Winding up Hercules' blonde buddy was a source of constant delight for the lighthearted thief, "Isn't it good to see what it's like on the other side of the fence?"
"Very funny, Autolycus," growled the short man in genuine annoyance, "I've been propositioned three times and one of them just wouldn't take no for an answer."
"What happened?" questioned Joxer as he pulled his scarf straight on his head. It felt wrong without his helmet, and the scarf was dripping wet besides.
"Let's just say that he got more than he bargained for, and the last I saw of him, he was heading for a tavern as quickly as he could get there." replied Iolaus grumpily. "You owe me for this Autolycus," he told the thief threateningly.
The thief grinned even wider, "Don't get your skirts in a twist, shorty, things have worked out pretty well so far."
"Have you found any news of them?" demanded Toris.
"They're in the Prefecture," answered Joxer, though in a quiet tone for a change.
"More interesting, however," Autolycus told them, "Is the fact that the VIIth are moving north in the morning and that Caesar is going with them."
"We'd more or less worked that out for ourselves, so it's hardly that surprising," retorted Iolaus, still festering about being the indignities of being accosted on the street by lewd men.
"What is news, though," continued the King of Thieves, not put off by the blonde man's annoyance, "is that Brutus is taking a maniple of the VIIth and is heading on to Massilia."
"Gods in Olympus!" swore the small man, "That must mean he's splitting Gabrielle and Xena up!"
"That would be my guess," agreed Autolycus, "He's probably sending Gabrielle back to Rome for safe keeping, while he keeps Xena with him."
"What are we going to do?" asked Joxer, "We can't follow both of them at once."
"We can if we split up," Iolaus answered thoughtfully, "Two of us will follow after Caesar, the other two will go after Brutus and watch for the chance to free Gabrielle."
Before anyone else could say anything, Toris told them firmly, "I'm going north after Xena. She's my sister," he said simply.
Iolaus and Autolycus looked at each other, "I'd toss you for it, shorty, but I kind of promised Xena that I'd get Gabrielle free. So I guess I have to follow Brutus."
The blonde man looked at Joxer, with something like relief on his face. He was well aware that Autolycus felt the same as he did, that Toris and Joxer needed to have leveller heads around them. Therefore if the thief was going to Rome, he'd be going north with Toris, which left Joxer to accompany Autolycus.
"What?" asked Joxer as he felt them looking at him and unaware of the by-play between them.
"Looks like you're coming with me, oh mighty mistress of mayhem," Autolycus told him with barely concealed reluctance.
"That's Master of Mayhem," corrected Joxer in irritation.
The thief looked him up and down insultingly before saying dismissively, "Whatever." He looked at Toris and Iolaus, "Seriously, though, you should be very careful. There are descriptions plastered everywhere around this city, and I have no doubt that it will be the same wherever you follow them to."
"They'll be looking for four men," Iolaus pointed out.
"That doesn't mean to say they won't recognise the two of you, just because there is only two of you. Most Roman's are smarter than that," pointed out the thief.
"We know the risks," put in Toris, angry and impatient, "What would you have me do? Abandon her?"
Autolycus gave the dark haired man a long steady look before asking, "Are all your family so hard headed?"
Toris had the grace to look a little embarrassed over the ungraciousness of his words and tone, before offering a bear quirk of his lips as he returned in a milder way, "Mostly, yes."
The thief shook his head as he looked at the man who resembled his sister in so many ways, "Just try to remember that if you get caught you're not going to help her situation."
Iolaus answered for them both, "We know and we'll both be careful," he glared at Autolycus, though and added, "But you can send me to Hades in a handcart if you think I'm going to trail north in these clothes," he said taking a long draft of his ale.
"Ah, and you look so cute too," teased the thief, "and the blue of your dress really compliments your complexion and your eyes."
"Hey, how come you never say things like that to me?" complained Joxer as Iolaus spluttered and spat his drink in exasperated fury. "I think I've got nice eyes too," he said fluttering his eyelashes.
Iolaus was torn between a desire to strangle Autolycus or pummel Joxer into a senseless heap. In the end he settled for an acid barb at the thief, "I hope you AND Joxer have a pleasant journey to Rome."
"Thanks, Iolaus," grinned the feckless warrior, taking the sentence at face value.
"Oh yeah," agreed Autolycus, a little less happy with being on the receiving end of things, "real pleasant."
His lips quirked into an unpleasant smile as he thought about the situation. Xena's battle skills were going to recoup all the money he had had to lay out in order to capture her, and line his treasury with enough funds to further pursue his aims in Rome. Not only that, but if his plans worked out, she would also give him a much needed diplomatic victory in Gaul.
It was such a sweet revenge on the woman who had caused him so much trouble, but that revenge would not be complete until he had subjugated her to his will .. the anticipation of which deepened the smile that failed to touch the cold malevolence of his eyes. Everything would come to him in time, - After all, - he thought to himself with total confidence, - it is my destiny! -
He was pleased to note that the guards were alert, - If they hadn't been they would have been sorry! - he thought grimly. He moved without ceremony through his men, and stood outside of the bars, observing Xena as she dozed on the uncomfortably narrow wooden bench that served as the cell's only furniture.
Without moving, or opening her eyes, the Warrior Princess growled, "What do you want, Caesar?"
Her sensory abilities intrigued him. He couldn't understand how she could possibly know it was him, or that another pair of eyes was watching her, when her every move was observed by at least six men, day and night. He watched her as she swung her feet to the ground and sat up to face him. The look she gave him was filled with cold animosity .. the kind that is built up over years, nurtured, matured and allowed to cool into burning ice. He knew she would not speak again until he did, and he was tempted to allow the silence to stretch. However, he had come for a purpose and he did not intend to allow Xena to manipulate him this time, "We travel north tomorrow," he informed her.
The woman raised an eyebrow at him. Her eyes were cool and mocking, almost as if she knew what he was going to say, almost as if she knew what he was planning. She did not speak, and so he was forced to continue with what he had to say. "Your friend, however, will be going to Rome," he told her. He noticed the slight tensing of her muscles, and perhaps a faint gleam in her eyes, maybe of hope at the possibility of breaking loose and getting to Gabrielle before he could do anything about it.
"I'm telling you this because I want you to understand that the rules haven't changed significantly," he told her with assurance. He watched her watching him. There seemed to be an element of a cat watching a mouse here, but it was difficult to know just who was playing what part. "Admittedly, I won't have the bard to hand to punish for any transgression of the rules," he told her. "But believe me, Xena. Should you manage to escape from me, she'll be dead before you ever get to her. Messenger pigeons will get to Rome long before you can make it there, and your irritating friend will die a messy, painful, death. Believe it's so, because her well being lies in your hands."
She hadn't moved a muscle. Hadn't batted an eyelid. Whatever she felt at his announcement, she had no intention of showing it to him. And ... there seemed to remain a glimmer of hope in her eyes, - Is Flaccus right? - he questioned himself, - Did she manage to speak with one of those four men. If so, it was almost certainly the thief. His reputation is ... impressive. -
Well he had the means to crush that spark of belief, "Oh," he said with casual indifference, "I wouldn't count on much help from the thief .. Autolycus isn't it?." He saw her eyes narrow at his words, "Whatever he told you, he and his companions have troubles of their own. You know, Joxer and Iolaus ... and of course your brother ... Toris." He saw her fists start to clench before she forced them to relax, "I know all about them, Xena," Caesar told her with calm assurance, "It won't be too long before they join you in the cells."
Xena rose slowly from the bench and moved with a deadly menace over to where he stood. She said nothing, she made no overtly dangerous movement, but her whole body seemed to radiate an intense, deadly, intent that Caesar found difficult to ignore. Yet he met her look for look; a smile his response to the bleak frostiness of her attitude.
"Get some rest," he advised her, as he turned his back on her with apparent contempt for any threat she posed. "You'll need all your energy for what lies ahead of you."
Xena stood watching him until he had left the dungeon, before returning, with carefully studied indifference, to the bench upon which she lay down once more. Her thoughts boiling within her. It was obvious that all four of her would-be rescuers were safe for the time being, or Caesar would have delighted in showing them off to her. If they were loose then, with luck, they would go after Gabrielle and free her. Caesar probably wouldn't expect that. He failed to appreciate the love that the bard inspired in the people who knew her and counted her as a friend. Being unable to love anyone but himself, it was hardly surprising, but it could prove vital in this situation. He'd judge by his own standards and would almost certainly expect the four to come after her. - His prize! - she snarled silently to herself.
It was something to cling to. So long as the four men acted sensibly, and freed Gabrielle, then Caesar would be hamstrung. His efforts to hold and control the Warrior Princess would be severely hampered, and she just might get the chance to turn the tables on him .... But would Toris see it that way and understand that Gabrielle was the key to her freedom? She fell into a light sleep with the question running through her mind.
Chapter Twenty Four: Dreams and Reality
When Xena had shot a look in her direction, after she had laid out her hulking opponent, Gabrielle had twitched her a brief smile, but she could tell that her friend had not really registered it: she was looking to see if there was the faintest chance of breaking free of the snare they were caught in.
She had swallowed hard as she felt the cold metal of the knife pressed tighter to her exposed throat. Xena's eyes had been on that dagger and, with it pressed against the bard's life, she had forced herself to relax and allowed herself to be re-chained. Gabrielle's heart had gone out to her best friend. The Warrior Princess was enduring humiliation and suffering at the hands of her oldest and deepest enemy, all because of the love she bore for the bard, - Oh, Xena, - she thought helplessly, - this is all such a mess. -
When Xena had been escorted from the pit, Caesar had dismissed her and her guards without a second thought. She had no importance to him, other than as an instrument of control over the Warrior Princess. As she was roughly shoved towards the side door from the gallery, she had heard Lucullus's bid to buy the dark haired warrior.
- So now she's to be bartered over like some ... some ... slave! - brooded the bard angrily as her hand reached towards the collar at her own throat. - But that's the problem, isn't it? To him, and the Roman world, we are slaves. Property to be bought and sold like cattle. - The thought disgusted her. They might not be treated like conventional slaves, but the collars proclaimed their status to anyone who cared to look.
As she was marched back through the prefecture's corridors, she allowed her thoughts to dwell on Caesar's intentions for them. She doubted that there was any price high enough to make him release Xena. He would never trust her out of his control. Besides, if this evening's wager was anything to go by, he could make a fortune in betting on combats. The bard felt a growing certainty that that was Caesar's intention. Xena would be condemned to a life as a 'prize' fighter, giving Caesar his vengeance and winning him a fortune.
Gabrielle shook her head in frustration. She couldn't allow that to happen. Yet while she was held hostage for the Warrior Princess's compliance, that was exactly what would happen. She had a choice here. If she could remove herself from Caesar's control, then Xena would have her own freedom to choose.
Depression descended upon her. Even if she were able to escape, or failing that, end her own life, what would Xena do? - She'd go after Caesar and kill him, even though it would almost certainly result in her own death, - shaking her head again, she knew she was as chained as the Warrior Princess, - I can't allow Xena to waste her life in that way, - she told herself with forceful determination. - There has to be a way out of this .... There just has to be! -
When they reached the storeroom door, she was shoved roughly inside. It was dark and airless, for they had given her no light and there was no window. She felt her way cautiously to the pile of grain sacks that she had used as a bed before she'd been taken to witness the fight in the pit. Slumping onto them despondently, the bard curled up into a tight ball and allowed the tears of anger, frustration and helplessness to flow down her cheeks in quiet testament to her misery. Gradually, a restless sleep claimed her and she descended into the painful world of guilt ridden nightmares that assailed her whenever she was parted from Xena.
Truly alone!
No sound, no object, no person, no sky no ground. She felt abandoned, insignificant and afraid
She hugged her knees close to her body and felt her nakedness. She knew that she wore
nothing ... nothing except the silver collar around her neck.
She screwed her eyes shut, rocking back and forth as the silent tears streamed down her face.
She felt lost. Something ... someone? ... was missing! Her mind raced as she tried to
remember who she was, what she was, what she had lost!
She had no idea how long she was captivated in her misery. Time had no meaning here.
Life had no meaning.
And yet ....
AND YET!
The thought was demanding and somewhere from her concealed memory a face floated into
her minds eye. A dark face, hard and unforgiving. Grim in outlook and with eyes that
promised the chill harshness of death.
She drew a quick, fearful breath as she realised that the face was looking at her. Cold and
merciless eyes bored into her and she flinched from the accusation she read there.
She forced the image from her mind, but as she relaxed her will, the woman returned to
stand before her. Her flesh in tatters, blood dripping from her wounds, her head bowed in
subjugation. She looked up, her eyes holding a plea that was foreign to a wild and unfettered
nature, a plea for release.
Gabrielle screamed!
She was alone. The shifting grey and purple of the impossible landscape swirled around her
adding to her unease. She stood naked, but for the bright silver neck. With nothing else to do, and weighed down with a sense of hopelessness, she started to
walk.
Nothing changed, no one came, she was alone.
Feeling the tears burn hot tracks down her cheeks, she dashed them away with frustrated
anger. Where they fell tiny flames sprang up. As she watched in mesmerized fascination, the
flames grew and writhed together becoming a solid fountain of She backed cautiously away from what she perceived as a threat to her ... to everything she
held dear. To the very existence of the world.
A thick, snaking, tendril of flame lashed out at her, plucking her from her feet with startling
ease, throwing her high into the air above the core of it's existence. She hung there
helplessly, wrapped in the fiery intensity of malevolent evil.
And then ....
AND THEN!
A naked, scar clad form launched herself into the heart of the fire, laughing at the evil that
she found there, and delivered the trapped form of the dreamer from the flame's grasp,
throwing her to safety.
As she watched, her rescuer was gripped by the furnace heat which slowly melted away all
that had been of the woman, all except the vivid memory of a pair of piercingly cold blue
eyes and the glitter of a silver slave collar.
Gabrielle Screamed!
She was alone. The disturbed roiling of the purple and grey landscape made her feel sick as
violent orange streaks shot through the striation adding a further level of unreality to the
place.
She stood naked, except for a silver metal collar fastened around her neck, and a bracelet
that seemed to fade in and out of her sight as she looked at it. As it solidified she could hear
a groan of desperate pain, that faded as the bracelet became insubstantial.
She stood puzzled as to what it could mean. That the bracelet was precious to her she had no
doubt, but it seemed to be an abstraction of a lost reality, something she had and had lost all
too soon.
As the thought loomed in her mind, her memory folded and she stood witness as a coldly
determined woman drove a sword through the chest of a familiar man.
"Perdicus!" she shouted in crazed grief, "No!"
The blonde haired woman shot her a look filled with psychotic hunger, "That'll do!" she
said maliciously before dissolving into nothingness.
She ran to the man who died in her arms. Another face hovered close to her own. Dark and
strong, compassion filling her blue eyes as she gazed down.
And then she strode away and was seemed to be chasing after the insubstantial form of the
murderer. She watched the progress of the chase with eyesight enhanced by time and
memory. She saw them both tumble down a sand dune and into ... a cage!
Borne down with chains the dark haired woman knelt before a tarnished god ... no a man!
He reached out with a strong hand and grabbed the woman's hair. A silver collar glinted at
her throat.
The dreamer raised a hand to her own ....
A hand slashed down and the golden skin above the collar was sliced to release a fountain of
gushing crimson that smothered the dreamer as she watched.
Gabrielle screamed!
She was alone! The landscape around her swirled in a nauseating mix of grey, purple,
orange and crimson. She was naked except for the collar she wore at her throat. She stood
staring into nothingness, unchecked tears running unnoticed down her face.
Wild images of destruction, pain, fire, death, pain, deceit, jealousy, hatred, pain ... above all
pain, hers and another's, gripped her mind as she struggled to make sense of what she saw
before her. To make sense of what she needed to do to make it right.
She felt the cold metal appear in her hand and looked down at the sharp blade of the knife.
With infinite slowness she raised the dagger until it hovered in front of her chest. It's sharp
caress could end all the suffering, all the torment. All she had to do was plunge it into her
heart and everything would end.
She looked up and saw the dark woman standing in front of her.
A sad look in the ice-blue eyes.
"It's for the best, you know," she told her through her veil of tears.
"Without me you'll be free."
"Without you I'm nothing," came the soft reply. "Don't do this, Gabrielle. I won't survive without you."
Her voice was hard with the certainty she spoke.
"Xena, without me he cannot hold you," she told her friend fervently.
"But who will hold my soul, Gabrielle? Who will be my light?" came the pleading answer.
"Xena," she sobbed.
"I love you Gabrielle .... Don't leave me!"
Gabrielle .... awoke!
She scrubbed miserably at her face, smearing away the dampness she found on her cheeks. She hated nightmares. Her occasional gift for prophecy often allowed glimpses of the future creep into her dreams, but her nightmares were nearly always formed from the awfulness of past doubts, guilt and fears.
Normally, she had a strong pair of arms to cling to when she awoke from such torment. A friend that would hold her until she stopped shaking and could make the nightmares vanish in her calm certainty. This time she was alone! She shuddered at the vivid images that the thought conjured up in her mind, clinging to that last desperate plea that rang in her memory as she awoke. Whatever happened, she would not abandon her friend if she could help it. However ill used they were at this time, however much she felt the guilt of chaining Xena to her captivity, she could not relinquish her friend to her darker self. For she knew in her heart that, whatever the Warrior Princess had promised, grief would drive her into the arms of the darkness that she had struggled so hard to leave behind.
She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head on them as she waited to see what morning would bring. She could not face returning to sleep in case the nightmares returned to claim her. She stifled a yawn as she held herself in her uncomfortable position as slowly, her heavy eyes drifted shut once more.
Gabrielle returned to consciousness with startled disorientation. She had not intended to let sleep reclaim her, and the fact that it had been dreamless did little to compensate for the fact that she felt stiff and sore from the position she had drifted off in.
"Hey," he asked kindly, reaching out to touch her cheek, "are you okay?"
Crabby from nightmares, poor rest and an aching back, she slapped his hand away and demanded, "What do you care?" She desperately wanted to be with Xena, to talk to her and be comforted by her. It would be difficult in the wagon, surrounded by prying eyes. But it would be better than nothing.
"When are we leaving?" she asked grumpily as he handed her a soft roll of nutty bread for her breakfast.
"Caesar and the VIIth will be heading north within the candlemark. I just dropped in to wish you a good voyage." he told her.
"Voyage," she asked a little bemused, "Where's he sending us?" she asked, hopes rising that once away from Caesar, Xena might be able to figure a way to get them out of their trouble.
"You're going to Rome," Patroclese explained quietly, "Brutus will be commanding your escort. Xena will be going north with Caesar."
Gabrielle looked at him blankly, unable to take it in for a moment. After all Caesar had been at great pains to use her against Xena's indomitable will. If he sent her to Rome, then surely his grip on Xena would be loosened, "Why?" she asked in confusion.
"Lord Caesar feels that now Xena knows that he has you, there is no need to keep you quite so close. He can, after all, get a messenger pigeon to Rome long before Xena could get to you there." He did not spell out his meaning, he didn't have to. He knew the bard was smart enough to see the threat.
"Can I see her?" she asked quietly.
The healer shook his head, "My Lord sees no sense in risking another eruption like the one in Nemausus."
The bard looked blankly at the wall, misery plain to read in her eyes. She sniffed, bringing herself back to the reality of her present and asked quietly, "Who are you going with, Patroclese?"
"My Lord has commanded that I accompany him," the healer told her.
"Does he intend to make her fight again?" she asked dejectedly and grimaced at his nod of ascent. She sniffed again, "Will you give her a message for me?" the bard asked.
Patroclese smiled kindly and said, "Of course."
"Tell her not to take any chances, and that I want her to keep her promises," she told him, "It's important." A tear escaped and traced a crazy pattern down a cheek streaked with dirt and other tears.
The healer half held out a hand to comfort the young woman, before letting it fall back to his side. Gabrielle hadn't seemed to notice, but he feared another rejection, - After all, - he thought wryly, - I can't blame her for that can I. I hardly deserve her trust now, do I! - "Gabrielle," he said in a voice almost to quiet to hear, "I'm sorry."
The look she gave him was filled with anxiety and pain. She stared at him for the longest time before she grudgingly replied, "You thought you were doing the right thing .... You were only following His orders. I forgive you, and I'm sure Xena does too."
The words twisted like a knife in his gut. How could she say that after all he had put her through ... put both of them through. His certainty about the justness of his actions had been so strong. Yet from his first meeting with the Warrior Princess, that certainty had been slowly eroded. And now ... - And now it was to late to do anything about this mistake. - He felt lower than a worm! He stumbled, unseeing, from the storeroom, leaving the bard to munch with disinterest on her breakfast as she awaited the arrival of the guards who would escort her to Rome. The soldiers outside on duty, swung the door closed on her.
Thinking of Gabrielle caused the slight furrow of a frown to appear on her brow. She had been troubled by turbulent images in her sleep during the night. They had been disturbing, especially as the Warrior Princess rarely dreamed. She avoided allowing herself to fall into a deep enough sleep to have them, for her dreams were almost always nightmarish relivings of her past career. Last night had been different. It was almost as if she had been looking in on someone else's nightmares, and from the images she saw, those dreams could have belonged to only one person ... Gabrielle.
Xena knew that she and the bard had developed a strong link during their years together. Their dreams had overlapped in the past. It was possible that she had found a glimpse of Gabrielle's nightmares. But if they were strong enough to create a link to Xena's light sleep, then she knew that the bard would have awoken shaking and miserable.
On the few occasions that it had happened since the dreamscape passage, where the Warrior Princess had saved her friend from being sacrificed to Morpheus (one of the Dream God Brothers) the bard had needed the reassurance of a friend's closeness to recover from the fit of shaking that had assailed her. The last time it had happened, Xena had spent the residue of that night with a protective arm around the bard's shoulders, while Gabrielle had sobbed herself back to a more peaceful slumber. She half-smiled at the memory. She'd got no more rest that night and had suffered a crick in her neck that had made her grouchy for most of the day.
Her look turned bleak as her thoughts returned to last night. If her glimpse into Gabrielle's dream was accurate, then the bard would have been in sore need of comfort. She was well aware that her friend was a capable woman. She snorted to herself, - If I forget, Gabrielle is pretty quick to remind me, - she acknowledged. But the bard also had an innocent vulnerability, that stood at the core of who she was, which made Xena so protective of her. It was an essence that was worth protecting, - It's what makes her special, - the warrior recognised, - Warriors are a dinar a dozen, - she thought wryly, - but the world has too few Gabrielles! - She hoped that the bard had managed to overcome her terrors of the night, but fervently wished she had been there for her. For all that Gabrielle had given her .. companionship, trust, friendship and love .. it was the least she could do for her friend.
Blasius had drawn escort duty for the morning ... again! and Xena watched him through narrowed eyes as he and the six fresh watchdogs, moved through the guardroom and approached the cell. She glared at the man moodily. Of all the officers in the guard detail that watched over her, he was the only one that she had developed an active dislike for. He made the hairs on the nape of her neck bristle, and the stubborn streak, that ran in her blood, scrambled to the surface looking for a fight. She forced it down, with regret. She wouldn't be responsible for Gabrielle taking another beating ... if it was at all humanly possible to avoid it.
The door was unlocked and the optio entered with his men. He roughly, checked that each cuff of her fetters was still locked tight by giving the chains a hard yank, watching the Warrior Princess for any reaction, and getting none, other than the raised, mocking eyebrow. He then turned his attention to the belt around her waist, noticing that Flaccus had secured it less tightly than it had originally been.
With a malevolent look on his face, knowing that her body was bruised and sore from the previous evening's fight, he viciously pulled the fastening as tight as it would go and allowed a malicious smirk to appear as Xena was unable to stifle the slight wince that creased her features, "You'll do," he told her, giving her a shove towards the cell door.
The Warrior Princess was ready for the push and so had no trouble keeping her balance. She wished that she could see Gabrielle for a few moments before they took their separate paths, but knew that Caesar would have refused such a request even if she could have forced herself to ask it.
Her shuffling, chain restricted, footsteps managed to keep up with the pace set by Blasius, who marched behind her, ready to add impetus to her movement with a firm hand in the back. The rest of the guard formed up around them and they wound their way out to where the wagon and cage awaited her.
Her close guard had been changed at three candlemark intervals to keep them fresh and alert, although they hadn't had a great deal to watch as Xena had resolutely kept her eyes closed and dozed through the day, shifting only when stiff muscles and sore bruises demanded a change of position to give them some ease.
It was edging into late evening and the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon. Once again, the VIIth Legion made camp outside the city, while the maniple, commanded by Flaccus, escorted Caesar, along with his personal guards and the wagon, into the city where they took up residence in the prefecture once more.
The cells available here, for once, gave Xena a modicum of privacy. She was lodged in a stone walled room, that had a heavy, iron bound door, with only a tiny grill in it. The floor was stone, and covered with reasonably fresh straw, but there was nothing else within the small room.
Reluctant to leave men within her reach, Flaccus opted to fix the collar with a chain and secure it to the wall opposite the door. She had enough slack to be able to lay down, but the chain ensured that she would be in sight of the peep hole at all times. One set of eyes remained on her, yet she hadn't realised how much of a strain it had been having six men observing her every move, until the intrusion had been lessened to just one. The subconscious relief was almost enough to make her feel good. The relative privacy also gave her the chance to try out the toothpick.
By laying down, and turning her back to the door, she carefully tugged at her shirt until she manoeuvred her collar to a position from which she was able to retrieve the metal pick. With her senses alert for any sounds that would warn her of someone seeking entry to the cell, she carefully manipulated the pick in the lock that secured her wrists to the belt around her waist.
It was a slow process. She was aware of the technique, for being within Autolycus's body (when she had sought a way back to her own after her death) had improved her own knowledge of how to open a lock, so she felt confident enough to tackle more than fairly simple ones. But she had never had occasion to practice and it was far from as easy as the thief's memories had made it appear. However, she persevered, learning that touch and feel were key to the operation along with patience.
- It is, - she decided, - like trying to do one of those metal puzzles that innkeepers keep for patron's entertainment. - The only problem being, she couldn't see the shape of the parts or how they fitted together.
Finally, she was rewarded with a soft click as she manipulated the mechanism into it's correct alignment. Allowing herself a pleased grin, she reversed the process, so that she put the padlock firmly back in place. Not wanting to push her luck, she slid the pick back into her collar, until she got another chance to practice. She was certain that the locks on the metal cuffs were going to be far more of a challenge to her basic skills.
Some time later, Patroclese showed up bringing his chess set with him, along with a bowl of stew and a loaf of fresh brown bread for her evening meal. He passed her the bread and stew, allowing her to eat while he set the pieces up on the board, "I saw Gabrielle before we left," he told her conversationally.
Xena, spoon halfway to her mouth, stopped and looked at him, "Was she ... alright?" she asked, a slight hesitation betraying her concern.
Patroclese continued laying out the pieces of the game, "She'd been crying," he told her quietly, "but she seemed okay."
The warrior began to slowly eat once more, concern evident in her eyes as her thoughts seemed to drift away. The bard had a tendency to have bad dreams. After Xena had 'died', Gabrielle had been assaulted by nightmares that drained her emotionly and physically. She hoped that this was not a reoccurrence of that problem, because this time she couldn't see how she was going to find her way back to her friend and cure them, "Sorry?" she said as she realised that the healer had been speaking to her.
Patroclese gave her a long look, wondering what had caused the woman's distraction and the definite flicker of worry that showed in her blue eyes, " I said," he repeated, "that Gabrielle wanted me to tell you to avoid taking chances, and to remind you that she wanted you to keep your promises."
Xena's lips twitched as she fought the urge to smile, "Trust Gabrielle to say that," she muttered.
She wiped out the bowl with the last of the bread and handed it back to the healer. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he held his other hand out, waiting until she flipped the spoon to him. He shook his head in grudging respect for her persistence as he stood and took them to the door and handed them to the guard outside.
By the time he had come back, Xena had made her first move on the board. He sat back down in the straw and moved his response, "So, what happens tomorrow? Another march north?" she asked conversationally.
Patroclese watched as she swept her high priest across the board, before answering, "We rest here tomorrow. I think my Lord is arranging another contest for you before we move on," he told her, not meeting the blue eyes that he could feel boring into him.
She could feel the rage rising within her. It was now obvious that at least one of Caesar's plans for her was to turn her into a gladiator, of sorts. The thought of being used so made her blood boil with outrage, but deep within her, she was aware of the stirring of that dark core that relished the prospect of battle. Her fury at both Caesar for using her thus, and herself for her combative desire, roared through her body, leaving her shaking with wrath as she fought back the emotions that gripped her so violently.
By the time she had herself under control, Patroclese had backed away from her so that he was almost at the cell's door. What he had seen in her eyes had terrified him. Her muscles had been quivering as she had strained against her fetters, and the Xena he had come to know seemed to have vanished leaving behind the murderous slayer from the dark stories of her past.
He swallowed hard as he saw the woman slowly force the violent anger back into it's box. Whatever else she was, whatever she would become, the healer had just had a glimpse of the dark nature that lurked forever just below the surface, showing him that the deadly danger of Xena was far from a myth. His heart and his head hammered at each other once more, - Lord Caesar was right, the woman's an animal and she must be kept under restraint, - he told himself. While arguing, - How can I condemn her for her rage at being treated as she is? - They were arguments he had wrestled with for a long time now and still he could find no answer that would satisfy his conscience.
Xena looked at the obviously badly shaken healer. She shook her head ruefully, knowing that she could intimidate most people without really trying and, when she allowed her mask to slip, it could petrify even the most hardened warrior. She could understand that. It scared her. Losing control to her animal self, which had emerged after her first encounter with Caesar, was something she fought against every moment of her life. "It's okay, Patroclese," she told him softly, "I won't hurt you." She watched as he edged back to where he had been sitting, flinching at her slightest movement. - Whatever progress I may have been making with the healer has probably been shattered, - she thought disconsolately. "It's your move ... I think," she said, trying to break the tension.
When they had finished the game, Patroclese packed up the set and returned to his own quarters. He seemed to have regained some of his ease with her, but he left the Warrior Princess in a darkly brooding mood, as she contemplated the monster within herself. It was at times like these that she believed she had earned whatever Caesar threw at her. For all of the death, destruction and horror she had caused in her life, surely she deserved punishment? And what could be more fitting than her current torment at the hands of her hated enemy. She spent a long miserable night wishing for the presence of Gabrielle. The bard would have soothed her fears and the loathing she felt for herself.
The following morning was spent alone in the cell, other than when breakfast and lunch were delivered to her. She amused herself by practising with the toothpick and working on the padlock that held her manacles to the leather belt. As she exercised on them, the manipulations became easier to accomplish, and the success it brought, gradually lifted some of the gloom from her.
Mid afternoon, Flaccus came for her. Releasing the chain from the ring it was shackled to, he used it as a leash as he motioned her out of the cell and ordered the soldiers to form up around her as usual. Keeping a firm lid on her anger and the self loathing that lurked at the back of her mind, she moved along with them as she was escorted to another pit room that bore marked similarities to the first she had fought in. However, this one was rimmed with sharp metal spikes, that jutted out from the top of the wall, over the pit just below the level of the gallery, to prevent fighters from turning on their masters.
She looked up and found Caesar immediately. Her eyes drawn to him like a loadstone. For the moment he ignored her. He was speaking with three men, their wealth obvious from their dress and from their attitudes. She glanced around the gallery and noticed the archers placed strategically. She counted twenty of them, and her eyes narrowed as she noted they all carried small hand sized dart crossbows cocked and ready for use.
- Bet those darts carry some kind of quick acting sleep drug on them, - she grimly assessed.
Finally, Caesar turned towards the pit and gestured towards Xena, "Gentlemen," he smirked at the men with him, "this is my slave. If you are agreeable, then the wager is that she will take on your three fighters, with the one stipulation that no weapons are to be used."
"Are you serious, Caesar?" questioned a tall greying man of aristocratic bearing and aquiline features, "Three against one? and our men professional gladiators while, your slave is nothing but a barbarian wench? Surely you jest!" he laughed.
"Not if you are willing to give me the odds agreed upon," Caesar told him his voice full of dark humour, "and the woman is a Greek, not a barbarian. Although I will grant you she's a savage."
The short, dark middle aged man standing off to one side gave a snort of contempt, "Barbarian ... Greek, what does it matter. She's a wench and will not provide much of an afternoon's sport against all three of our men. I'll grant you she has the look of a fighter," he said speculatively as he ran a considering finger down his jaw, "but I'd rather see a good match than a poor one, even if I do get to take your money."
The third man had been looking carefully at the guards, the chains and the bearing of the woman standing, head erect, below him. His chain of office declared him to be the Prefect of the city, and his shrewd look suggested little escaped his attention. A wry smirk appeared on his face as he turned to the others, "Quintus," he said clapping the small man on the shoulder, "Sertorius," he said including the nobleman, "I think my friend Julius may have gulled us. I think three against one may be very poor odds, and that we'll be paying out on the stakes we made. However if I'm wrong, I have some criminals that can entertain us if necessary."
"Damn it Gaius," protested the tall, elderly Sertorius, "I didn't come here just to watch a bunch of amateurs scrap it out. I was promised a real contest."
"And it will be Sertorius," promised Caesar, "other wise I'll pay you double the wager ... as long as it's your men that win."
"Oh, lets get on with it," Quintus drawled in a bored tone. I'm sure we'll be able to find something to amuse ourselves with for the rest of the afternoon,"
Caesar turned his attention to Flaccus who stood waiting with Xena in the pit, "Alright Centurion, take them off," he ordered and watched as the officer unlocked the Warrior Princess from her shackles, "Very well, Xena," he began, and a smirk sparked in his eyes as he heard the men beside him register the name and understand exactly who he had pitted against their men, "Gabrielle's not here, which is why we've got the archers."
That brought another round of whispered comment from the three local men, who had obviously thought they were some form of guard for Caesar, - Well they are, - thought Xena, - just not against your machinations. -
"Not even you can catch the amount of darts they can fire at you, and just bear in mind what will happen to your friend should you managed to get out of there." The whispering had continued until Caesar halted and Gaius interrupted.
"Julius, are we right in presuming that this is the infamous Warrior Princess of Greece? The so called 'Destroyer of Nations?" he questioned.
Caesar watched his captive as she carefully massaged her wrists and ankles, "She has worn those titles at times," he conceded. Then added for her benefit, "Now her only title is slave." His eyes gleamed as he saw her stiffen at his barb.
"My friend," laughed the prefect ruefully, "I think once this is over, you had better give us a detailed account of just how you managed to acquire this woman as a slave." Gaius gave a signal and three men, stripped to the waist entered the pit.
Xena dropped into a fighting crouch, her mind assessing the capabilities of those she faced, watching how they moved and how they carried themselves. All were tall, only one being slightly shorter than she was. They were muscular with scars decorating their bodies. They spread out to flank her, intending to back her up to the wall of the pit and then close in for an easy kill, so to speak.
Allowing herself to drift backwards, Xena, startlingly let out her ululating cry, "Yi,yi,yi,yi,yi,yi!" and leapt into a back flip so that her feet landed halfway up the pit wall. Pushing off she propelled herself in a forward flip, over the heads of her opponents, landing behind the shortest one whom she flattened with an elbow jab to the base of the skull.
She spun smoothly to face the two others who scattered apart to either side, trying to make her split her attention between them. The one to her left was a younger man, with close cropped hair and an arrogant belief in his own ability. The second man was older, his head was shaved and his eyes showed the experience of past fights. A glance told her that the man she had elbowed would be no problem for a while.
As one, the men sprang for her. She tried to sidestep them, fooling the younger of the pair .. who rushed past in an uncontrolled lunge .. but failed to divert the older man who threw an arm around her neck, and smashed a hard fist into her back just above her unprotected kidneys. Pain flared, which she tried to ignore, as she forced herself to concentrate on the gladiator's arm as it tightened around her neck.
Using her elbows again, she rammed them back into his muscular rib section, making him grunt from the force, and slacken his hold a little. Dropping to her knees, the sudden dead weight sent the man catapulting over her head to slam into the wall in front of them. He slumped to the ground shaking his head to clear it.
Before Xena could get back to her feet, the younger fighter slammed a booted foot into her ribs, causing her to grunt as the breath rushed from her body. A second kick followed the first, before a hand dropped down and grabbed a handful of her long hair, pulling her up enough to receive a cracking right fist to her jaw.
Fighting off pain and dizziness, the Warrior Princess launched herself from her knees to tackle the gladiator around the waist and take him down to the ground where she straddled him and delivered a stunning left fisted backhand punch that was so hard the spectators heard the jaw crack. Before she could finish him off, though, the older fighter had recovered his wits and dove into her, carrying her back onto the floor of the pit. Straddling her as she had his team mate, the gladiator threw a right hand punch at her face, only to have it stopped in mid-flight by a grip like a vice. He threw a left to try and distract her, just to have it captured in the same way.
He looked at her with a growing awareness of fear, as she raised an eyebrow at him, and then with incredible power and impressive ease, she tightened her fingers, crushing his hands, before shoving her hands forward so that the fighters wrists bent back at an alarming angle, snapping the bones with an audible, "CRACK!" He screamed as she shoved him aside and sprang lithely to her feet.
The first man she had downed had recovered from her blow, and was advancing on her, a look of wild anger in his eyes. A quick glance at the other two men told her the older one was out of the reckoning, while the younger one (with the broken jaw) was slowly climbing back to his feet. She smiled at the gladiator advancing on her and beckoned him on.
When he rushed her to secure her in bear hug, she chopped down hard with both hands into the base of his neck, before crashing her forehead into his nose, driving him to the ground with the force of the blow and laying him out with a stunning roundhouse right.
It was then that she heard the clang of metal as a dagger hit the ground by the feet of the last man standing. He grabbed it triumphantly, anger and pain flaring from his eyes as he swung to tackle Xena.
"Damn it!" swore Caesar vehemently, motioning for a messenger to get to Flaccus as quickly as possible, "Whoever let that knife drop in there, better have a damn good excuse!"
"Come Julius," grinned Sertorius, "at least it will make the rest of this fight interesting. If it's the bet you're concerned about, we can always call it void. And I'm sure that Olan won't cut her up to badly."
Caesar glared at the man, "He won't even scratch her," he snarled furiously, "But she'll get that weapon and as soon as she does she becomes ten times more dangerous, just with that dagger."
The other three men paled somewhat as they contemplated that concept, and just how angry Caesar was at the situation. They flicked worried glances at each other, the furious man beside them and then returned their gaze to the pit to watch the outcome of the fight.
The Warrior Princess eyed the fighter, sweeping the dagger before him as he approached, while she made her retreat towards the wall. Her eyes locked to his, reading his actions as they registered there. It was his eyes that would tell her his intentions, not the weapon. Suddenly she saw them widen as he launched himself at her, driving the blade downwards towards her neck. Xena grabbed the descending arm and twisted beneath it, using the build up of torque and momentum to flip the gladiator into a heavy fall, before finishing him off with a kick to the head.
Grabbing the dagger, she took a step, turned and threw the weapon straight at Caesar, eyes blazing as she watched the blade travel true. Before she saw it strike, bodies hit her from behind, as Flaccus and his guards steamed into the pit. She struggled for her liberty, making the soldiers fight hard to take her. But the pummelling she had already taken, from the tussle with the gladiators, along with sheer weight of numbers began to tell on her. Bodies piled on top of hers, pinning her down, while first the leg irons were locked in place, before the manacles were snapped around her wrists and the belt secured around her waist.
As she was dragged upright, her eyes darted to where Caesar had been standing. He stood looking back at her, hooded brown orbs blazing as blood dripped down his right cheek from the deep score made by the passage of the knife. - Spot on! - she thought, - he'll wear my mark now! - her eyes burned with her rage as she glared at him.
"Get her back to her cell," snarled Caesar, as he turned his glare on the three men who stood with him.
Xena's arm was jerked roughly as she was dragged from the fighting pit and back to her prison. On the way back, she railed at herself for being a fool, if she had killed Caesar, she may well have condemned Gabrielle to death. The fact that she had hit what she aimed for was immaterial .. he could have moved into a fatal position. She had no doubt that word would be gotten to Rome, or that Caesar would have made plans for such an occurrence.
Once back in the dungeons, the chain was reattached to her collar, but this time it was hauled tight to the ringbolt on the wall, giving her no room for movement, and keeping her standing. The soldiers were rough with her, but not excessively so, trained to await Caesar's orders for whatever punishment he might deem as necessary for the attempt on his life.
- Oh that was so dumb, Xena, - she told herself, left in the silence of her dungeon. - Gabrielle would be having fits after what I promised. - Yet she couldn't stop the small smile of satisfaction from playing on her lips, - I bet the bastard nearly wet himself, - She grunted as she tried to settle herself into any kind of comfortable position.
Her neck was sore from the attempt at strangling her, and wasn't being helped by the way they'd got her chained. The punch in her back over her kidney felt raw, as did her ribs ... again! where she'd taken a couple of heavy kicks. The rest of her body felt bruised from the soldiers piling in. She hadn't been able to count heads, but there had been more than the twenty men who escorted her there.
Another grin flitted across her face, she'd seen Blasius in the scrum, and had got in a good punch before they'd managed to subdue her, - Oh are they ever going to make me suffer, - she thought to herself, - but ... I think I can honestly tell Gabrielle it was worth it. She won't believe me, but it was definitely worth whatever I have to pay for it. -
The cell door opened to admit Patroclese, who came in oozing anger from every pore. He dropped his kit in front of her and silently examined the new wounds and injuries she bore. He roughly swabbed of the drying blood from a split in her lip, pulled her shirt up and gently ran his fingers across her ribs to check for damage, before applying liniment to the fresh collection of bruises he found there, he used a cool painkilling salve on the nasty bruise he found on her back, before finally rubbing a salve into her neck.
"Not speaking, huh?" asked Xena as he packed his things away.
"Are you mad?" he demanded as he stood glaring at her. "Do you think Caesar's going to shrug that dagger throw off?" the deliberately blank look she gave him seemed to infuriate him, "Didn't you think about Gabrielle at all?" he demanded, "There could be a message on it's way ordering her immediate execution."
Xena stiffened, "He wouldn't. He know's she's the only hold he's got over me."
"Some kind of hold," roared Patroclese, "You just tried to kill him!"
"If I had intended to kill him, he'd be dead," she told him icily, "and he knows it. That's why he won't kill Gabrielle, because he knows if there is ever a next time, he would die. She's his shield."
"Quite so, Xena," said a voice from the doorway, "Quite so." He stepped into the cell and she could see the livid cut that had required stitching to close the wound. His brown eyes flared with anger as he looked at her, "Possibly I made a mistake sending Gabrielle away. I think you believe that she's safe from punishment for your breaking of the rules." He glared at her with a savage intensity that almost matched her own.
Her own anger building within her, Xena couldn't stop herself from retorting with icy certainty, "No! Your mistake was bringing Gabrielle into this .. and as soon as I'm free I'll make absolutely certain that you regret every mark you've put on her."
He moved closer to her, his eyes burning with fanatic intensity, "You are in no position to threaten me, slave. Nor can you do anything to protect the bard. I think we'll keep a tally of the punishments you earn, and when we get to Rome, she'll get them in one dose. I think we'll call tonight's episode ten strokes for her. I wonder just how many she can take in one go?"
Xena lunged forward, only to be jerked back by the unrelenting chain attached to her collar. Unable to reach him, she fumed helplessly as he stood before her., knowing that anything she further said or did would make it worse. She hoped that Autolycus would make good on his promise to get the bard out of her captivity, but if he hadn't succeeded by the time Caesar got her back to Rome, she couldn't afford to have irritated Caesar into increasing the beating he had ordained.
Seeing the constraints that the warrior was putting on herself, the Roman added salt to the wounds, "Another time, my sweet, and I would have ordered you the lashing you deserve for your actions. However, I have some more contests to arrange for you and I want you fit enough to handle them. You must continue to win, you know Xena," he told her warningly, "because if you lose, I will make her suffer."
He swirled out of the cell, sweeping Patroclese along with him. As the door slammed shut she cursed her temper and Caesar both, - Ares' hairy buttocks! But that was dumb, real dumb. - Having nothing to vent her fury on other than herself, she continued her mental berating before forcing herself to settle into an uncomfortable night's sleep standing up.
Iolaus scratched at the thickening whiskers on his chin, and wondered yet again how anyone managed to put up with the irritation that the face fungus brought. A glance at his silently brooding companion caught him also rubbing the bushy bristles that had sprouted over his lower face.
Hearing the sound of marching feet, the pair drew their tired horses back into the shelter of the copse that they had stopped by. It was only a patrol, no more than a half century. Iolaus did a quick calculation and reckoned that there were less than forty men. He glanced at his companion and almost laughed. Hiding had become second nature to them, but truth to tell, they now looked very little like the descriptions that were posted everywhere offering a sizable reward for their capture.
Grinning, he admired the blonde hair and whiskers that considerably changed Toris's looks, only the piercing blue eyes proclaimed his kinship to Xena now. - While I, - he smirked again at the thought, - didn't even recognise myself in the mirror in that last inn! - He pulled a very black hair out of his chin and winced ruefully at the sharp point of pain it momentarily caused. - Not even our own mother's would recognise us now, - he chuckled to himself.
They waited for the legionaries to pass, on their way back to their barracks in Lugdunum. The area still had problems with Gaulish raiders, so strong patrols were maintained to ensure the safety of the outer lying Roman dwellings in an area being rapidly populated by colonists. Once the soldiers were safely down the road, the pair urged their mounts forward once more, where they could get a clear view of the road to the south.
"How long do you think before they get here?" asked Toris, curbing his impatience with effort.
Iolaus scratched at his beard again as he considered, "Hard to say," he answered non-committally, "Well before dusk, I should think. That last camp the legion made wasn't too many leagues back there. We've got time to find ourselves a decent inn that overlooks the Prefecture. You never know, we might get lucky and get a glimpse of her."
Toris looked moodily down the road. So far they hadn't been able to accomplish anything of use. As Autolycus had warned, the pair of them had been recognised as soon as they switched back into their own clothes. He grimaced about the close run problem at Orange, a small city a days march north of Evignan. They'd thought they'd managed to slip into the city without any notice. They'd got ahead of the VIIth Legion, much as they had today, and had stopped in a tavern to get a bite to eat, and hopefully watch the wagon go by and, maybe, catch that elusive glimpse of his sister.
It had been Iolaus's sharp elbow digging into his ribs that alerted him to the odd way that the tavern keeper was acting. The man had flipped his hand at a young floor sweeper, who scuttled away on an errand, before the florid, sweating, man came over to their table to take their order.
"Ah, no thanks," Toris had replied to the host's offer to get them something, "we've changed our minds." He stood up, following his blonde companion's lead and tried to brush past the man in his way.
The tavern keeper had put his hand against Toris's chest and said, "But sir, you've only just arrived, and we serve some of the best wine in all of Narbonensis."
Seeing that the man was not going to let him pass peacefully, and recognising Iolaus's worried impatience, Toris tried a trick of his sisters. He allowed his ice-blue eyes to harden and directed a chilling stare at the tavern keeper. The man had gone a little white around the gills and swallowed hard as he stepped back sharply, - Good one, Xena! - thought Toris as he strode purposefully past. He doubted that he'd be able to intimidate a warrior that way, unlike his 'oh so scary' sister, but it had worked well enough there.
"C'mon Toris," the compact blonde had encouraged, heading for the door with a purposeful stride, "Let's get out of here before we hit tr...."
He never finished the sentence, because eight members of the town watch bulled through the tavern door at that moment, their officer shouting, "That's them! Get them!"
Whatever else he had done in his life, tavern brawling was not a skill he had practised enough to be able to call himself proficient at it .. even if he had been brought up in one! Iolaus on the other hand, seemed to be quite comfortable in such situations. Grabbing a bench, the small man had hoisted it and then charged into the soldiers of the watch, before they were able to spread out too much.
Following his friend's lead, Toris hefted a small table and used it to shove the forces of law and order from the side, managing to use it as battering ram and shield both. Several bodies went down in a tangled pile, including Iolaus. But Toris dumped the table on top of the bulk of the heaving mass, before hauling the smaller man out, by his feet, from under a chaos of arms and legs.
With boyish grins at each other for the turmoil they had wrought, the pair, made a dash for the tavern door and their horses, "Ares' left hairy nut!" swore Iolaus as he swung his gaze up and down the street. Legionaries were coming at double time from each direction and converging on them.
They'd scrambled for their horses and darted for the only street providing a clear exit for them. Pushing the horses from a standing start to full gallop, they had raced the running soldiers for the narrow passageway that offered their only chance for escape.
It was a close run thing, but they made the alleyway before the Roman's did, and they'd set the horses for the fastest way out of the city, only to find the gates being closed when they reached them. Iolaus had given a wild whoop to distract the soldiers, then they'd driven their horses towards the narrowing gap as the heavy wooden portals were being slowly pushed shut and, by the skin of their teeth, and the grace of Zeus, they'd just managed to slip through and out into the open countryside. That had been about fourteen days previously. Since that close shave, they had decided to dye their hair and cultivate beards. It had worked and they were now able to pass among the Romans without being challenged or attacked, but they still maintained their cautious approach.
As Iolaus explained to Xena's brother, "If we're cautious and get in to trouble, at least we know we've done everything we can to avoid it. If we're careless, then it's too late to start worrying about caution when we're thrown into Caesar's dungeon."
Impatient though he was, Toris had seen the sense of the argument and had followed the smaller man's lead. In the time they had been together, he had developed a respect for Iolaus and found him to be both good company and sensible ... that is sensible over everything except women.
It had been a wet miserable day when they'd taken shelter in a tumbled down barn from an afternoon storm, somewhere on the long haul between Orange and Valence. They'd brought the horses in and had taken the chance to munch on some jerked meat. "Pity we can't cook some soup or something warm," grumbled Iolaus.
"Can you cook?" asked Toris, more for something to say than any real interest.
Iolaus waggled his hand from side to side and answered, "About enough to get by on. I've never poisoned anyone ... unlike your sister."
Toris had grinned at that, remembering some of Xena's more flamboyant disaster's in his mother's kitchen when they were children, "It's never been one of her many skills. But I never heard that she poisoned anyone with it before."
"That might have been a slight exaggeration on my part," agreed the smaller man with a grin in return, "but not by much."
They ate in silence for a while, each lost in his own thoughts as the rain fell heavily beyond the sagging door and lightning cracked throwing jagged lances around the darkening skies.
"You know," Toris said at last, just to break the silence between them, "You never told me how you and my sister met." For a long while he didn't think that Iolaus was going to answer him. The blonde had stared out into the wet afternoon and a frown had etched itself onto his brow, "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to pry."
Iolaus sighed and turned to look into the blue eyes of his companion, "Toris, you know very little about Xena. What she did, what she became, even what she is now. I suppose it's only natural that you should try and fill in some of the gaps. But you've got to remember that it's who she is now that's most important." He glanced out into the rain once again, "I think this has settled in for the night, we might as well make a camp here. We can probably risk a small fire and make something warm to drink ... then I'll tell you about how I met Xena."
They'd unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down well before giving them some of the grain they'd brought along for feed, then a search through the decrepit building had turned up enough dry wood to give them a comfortable blaze and a chance to dry off a bit.
They sat on the bedrolls that they'd laid either side of the fire and, taking sips from the herbal tea they'd made, Iolaus began his story, "I first saw Xena about a league outside of my home town. Her horse had gone lame and she seemed to be wary of strangers, even a little frightened of them."
Toris choked down a laugh, "My sister?" he asked incredulously.
"She's a very good actress," his friend told him with a straight face. "Anyway, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress ... for any kind of damsel really, it's gonna get me killed one day. As it happened, this particular time, it nearly got me and Hercules killed."
"She tried to kill you and Hercules?" Toris almost squeaked as his voice moved up another octave.
"Yeah," came the nervous answer, "not straight away, but that's what she had planned."
"So what happened?" came the demand.
"Well, she got me to fall in love with her, really fall deep for her, you know?" he saw Toris give a small nod, "She is such a beautiful woman and believe me Toris she has more in her arsenal than a sword and a chakram. I'd have done almost anything she'd asked of me." He winced at the painful memory.
"She asked you to kill Hercules?" his companion asked.
"No," Iolaus told him quietly, "her plan was far more devious than that," he sat quietly for so long that Toris almost thought he wouldn't tell the rest of the tale. Finally, with a long sigh, however, he continued, "I spent an idyllic eight days with her at my home, before she told me about some Warlord terrorizing her people in Arcadia. She said she'd come to get Hercules' help, but that she'd found me."
Toris sat quietly as Iolaus picked up a stick and prodded the fire, "I agreed to go back with her and help her. I was so crazy in love with her I'd have gone anywhere with her. I told Herc that I was going with her and she turned down his offer of help, telling him that I was all she needed. Gods, but that thrilled me. Here was this incredibly beautiful woman turning down Hercules in favour of me .. I mean, Herc's my best buddy, he always has been and always will be, but sometimes living in his shadow can be a bit ... you know?"
"Yeah," agreed Toris bleakly, "I know. I have this sister, remember."
Iolaus gave him a tight lipped smile, "Yeah. Well I went with Xena and the more time I spent with her, the more I came to worship her. She became everything to me. So when Hercules turned up a few days after we reached her camp at Elyssia, telling me that Xena had sent a man to kill him, I kind of exploded and told him that I never wanted to see him again."
Toris looked grim, "Must have been tough," he said softly.
"You have no idea." A far away look settled into his eyes as he shook his head ruefully, "Anyway, Herc went and spent the night in a nearby village where he learned all about your sister and her reputation. He hadn't realised until then, that this was the Warlord Xena, Destroyer of Nations, who'd caused so much havoc over the years." A twitch of his lips highlighted the glint in the blonde's eyes as he went on, "Anyway, Herc decided that he'd be damned if he'd let Xena use me as a pawn, and he came back to Elyssia to get me. On the way, he ran into Xena and a lieutenant of hers, name of Estragon. He and Herc fought, but when Estragon surrendered to my buddy, Xena killed him with her chakram for going against her code."
Iolaus shook his head in despondency, "She came back to the camp looking like she'd gone three rounds with ol' Herc, and told me that he'd killed Estragon and attacked her, so when my buddy, my best friend, came striding back to Elyssia I tried my damnedest to kill him."
"But you didn't, did you? and he didn't kill you either, or you wouldn't be here now," pointed out Toris softly.
"No," agreed the blonde, "Xena's plan was for Hercules to kill me and when he broke down over what he had done, she intended to kill him. Trouble was, I couldn't kill my best friend, and Herc doesn't kill anyone unless he has to. I suddenly wised up and saw through her plan and teamed up with Herc to try and whip her and her men, but she got away."
There was a long period of quietness around the campfire as the dry wood popped and sent tiny showers of sparks flying, before they were captured by the larger flames and drawn back into the whole. Iolaus poked at the fire again, lost in the painful memories of the past that Toris had stirred up.
"After what she had done to you, how in the name of Zeus did you and Hercules, ever become friends with her?" asked Toris in bewilderment.
Iolaus smiled again, "It wasn't easy for me. But Hercules .. he sees things that I don't, although he wasn't too friendly towards her at first. He'd heard rumours of raiders in the Parthian province and had gone to help the people. He found villagers slaughtered and crucified, learned that your sister was responsible and swore to bring her to justice. As he tracked her he found an entire village that had been slaughtered. Men women and children. Nothing had been left alive before the place was torched. He said it was one of the worst things he'd ever seen." Iolaus said softly.
"Oh gods," choked Toris, "I'd heard of some of the atrocities that she'd done, but I'd always heard she spared women and children."
"She did," agreed his companion, "but this time she hadn't been leading her army, her chief lieutenant, Darphus, had and he was a butcher. Xena was away north with her scouts and returned to her army only after the village had been sacked. She saved a baby there, the only survivor of the massacre, and for that Darphus was able to turn her army against her and eject her as leader."
"So what did she do?" questioned Toris, "Surely that didn't make her change her ways?"
"Not quite," agreed Iolaus bleakly, "Darphus put Xena through a gauntlet. Her own men beat her with fists and clubs to within an inch of her life. No one had ever survived one before ... but she did."
"I'll kill him! If I ever find the murdering whoreson, I swear I'll kill him," cursed Toris his eyes alight with anger, "Whatever Xena once was, she's still my sister!"
"Xena took care of that a few years ago ... twice!" smiled the shorter man.
"Twice?" was the disbelieving question.
"Give me time and I'll get there," Iolaus told him. "After the gauntlet, Xena figured the only way to get her army back was to kill Hercules and take his head as a trophy."
"Whew!" whistled his audience.
"Yeah," agreed the blonde with a grin, "Anyway, she must have been hurting like hades from the beating she'd taken, but she tracked down Herc and challenged him one on one. Damn near beat him too, by all accounts .. even as beat up as she was."
"Then why didn't Hercules capture or kill her?" asked Toris in surprise.
Iolaus shrugged, "I told you Hercules doesn't like to kill and I think he saw something in your sister that even she didn't know was there."
"What was that?" wondered the taller man, "I'm her brother and even I could see she deserved to be tried for her crimes."
"Well Hercules told her later that he saw the goodness in her heart," answered Iolaus seriously.
Toris nearly choked on his last swallow of the tea, "What! C'mon Iolaus. My sister was a bloodthirsty, power crazed, murdering madwoman and Hercules saw the goodness in her heart? You have got to be kidding."
"No, straight up," he told him still seriously, "and if you think about it he's been proven right, because since then she's turned her life around and shown that goodness over and over again."
Toris shook his head as he tried to get his mind around the concept before asking, "Okay so what happened after she tried to kill him?"
"He let her go."
"He what?" the bigger man looked stunned.
"He let her go," repeated Iolaus, "He figured that she had some things to work out for herself, and he had to go and stop Darphus and her ex-army. She turned up later in the town of Parthia when Herc was in bad trouble, and Darphus looked like killing him. Instead she killed Darphus and helped scatter the remnants of the army. That's when she decided to stay with Herc for a while."
Digesting that, Toris suddenly realized he hadn't heard how Iolaus had managed to reconcile his differences with Xena, "So what happened when you found out about that, huh?"
Iolaus looked a little grim as he threw some more wood on the fire, "I heard about Xena rampaging through the area and came to stop her. I stumbled across Herc and his friend, Salmoneus, and exchanged some news. I told them I'd come to get Xena and Herc edged around the question saying that the real problem was Darphus," he saw Toris' puzzled look, "You see Ares resurrected Darphus on the condition that he kill Herc and Xena.
"I suggested that we should get both of them, and that was about when she turned up back in the camp. I tell you Toris, it made my blood boil. Here was the woman who had made a total fool out of me and tried to kill me and Herc, wandering around like she owned the place. I told Hercules he was a fool and I would have left if he hadn't talked me out of it. It hurt seeing her there .. and it hurt knowing that I was till attracted to her .. even after what she'd done!" He snorted in self contempt.
"Anyway, I stayed .. grudgingly. The atmosphere was very strained and I wasn't willing to see that she'd changed or give her the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't until she saved my life in a little skirmish with Darphus and his men, that I agreed to try and forget the past. Herc and Xena between them were enough to send Darphus back to Hades where he belonged, while Salmoneus and I tidied up the army. Since then, Xena's proven herself to be a good friend many times over. I'm glad we got over the problems we had at the start, she was worth saving then and is even more so now," he smiled, "She'd wade through fire to get me or Herc out of trouble, how could I do any less for her?"
"Hey," Iolaus prodded Toris in the ribs to get his attention, "You gonna sit there and dream all day?"
"You got any better ideas?" he asked gruffly.
"Well we could go and see about getting a room, a bath, some hot food, a mug of ...."
"Okay, okay," broke in Toris, "You've talked me into it."
They headed into Lugdunum and found a strategically placed inn with a room that gave them a view of both the Prefecture and the Garrison. They took a quick bath, ordered drinks and food to be brought to their room, and settled down to await the arrival of Caesar and his entourage.
"Not garrison soldiers," Toris pointed out.
"Looks like some of those that came in earlier," agreed Iolaus.
"Well some of them were given evening passes in Evignan," reminded the taller man.
"We could shadow them and see if we could pick up some news," suggested Iolaus tentatively.
"Risky," answered Toris sucking his teeth, then turned and grinned at his companion who was already smiling back at him, "Let's go."
They followed the six legionaries down into the city where the soldiers liked to carouse. It was an area full of gambling dens and whorehouses as well as cheap drinking establishments, that served barely drinkable wine. "What'd we come here for?" complained one man, as he grimaced at the taste in his cup, "We've got enough dinars to be somewhere where the wine is decent."
"Quit complaining, Marcellus," laughed another man slapping his friend on the back, "We've got everything here that we need for a really good night out, and we won't have to spend too much to enjoy it. I intend to keep some of my dinars so that I can invest it in some bets with the local grunts here when we get the chance."
"Shut up Quintus, you'll get us all flogged! You know that subject's off limits." growled a strapping soldier, a decurion from his rank badge.
As they drifted along behind the soldiers, Toris raised an eyebrow at Iolaus. It was the closest they'd got to anyone from the guard unit, and it was obvious that these men were part of that special maniple.
"Do you think we could separate a couple from their uniforms?" asked Toris in a whisper.
"Too risky. That unit's so tight they squeak. A couple of strange faces showing up would land in a cell before they could blink," answered Iolaus just as quietly, "but if we could separate one from the flock, and get him drunk enough, we might just find out something worthwhile."
Toris nodded his agreement, and they trailed after the six, waiting their chance to grab one of them. They went from inn to tavern, to gambling dive to tavern, until they finally ended up in a less than salubrious house of ill repute, where the legionaries intended to end their evening.
"Now what?" asked Toris as they stood outside the whorehouse.
Iolaus drew him around to the rear of the building and pointed to the verandah, "We need to get up there," he hissed, "If we can get inside, we can see where the Romans go and grab one when he's alone in one of the rooms."
Toris looked at him, "He won't be alone you know."
"What?" asked Iolaus not quite understanding what he meant, "Oh, you mean the girl. Don't worry I'll take care of her while you get the soldier."
"How come I get the hard job?" demanded Toris. "I thought of it first," grinned the shorter man, "C'mon." Toris boosted his companion up to the balcony, and grabbed Iolaus's hand when the smaller man offered it, managing to scramble up to join him. "Shhhh!" warned Iolaus pointedly with a finger to his lips.
They carefully made their way to an open window and listened for any sound of occupancy. Hearing nothing, they slipped inside a dingy, stale smelling room that had a heavy overlay of cheap perfume. Moving carefully, they crossed the floor to the door that opened up onto the landing.
Iolaus eased the door open and pressed his eye to the crack, "One of them's coming this way," he told Toris as he closed the door and moved back into the room.
"It's not that big decurion?" hissed the taller man plaintively, "Is it?"
"Nah," grinned Iolaus reassuringly, "It's Quintus."
"Oh Gods," muttered Toris feelingly, "The man's built like a ...."
"I lied," grinned Iolaus again, "It's the squirty one, Marcellus."
"Damn it Iolaus ..."
"Shhh!" the smaller man warned him, pressing himself back against the wall on one side of the door, with Toris on the other.
"C'mon honey," they heard a husky voiced woman say, "It's just in here."
"Take me to Elysium," they heard Marcellus reply eagerly.
The door opened and admitted the pair, arm in arm. Toris used the pommel of his sword to hit the soldier on the back of the head, while Iolaus grabbed the woman around the waist and clapped a hand firmly over her mouth. He bit off an oath as she kicked back at his shin and jabbed him in the ribs with a meaty elbow.
"Oooff!" he grunted as he lifted her forward and pushed the door closed with his foot, "Cut that out," he told her, "I'm not here to hurt you, we just want to borrow your playmate."
"Mmmph yrrrg rtt!" came back the muffled retort, before she bit his hand savagely.
"Ouch! " he yelped, as he tossed her on the bed, sat on her back and held her face down while he ripped a strip off the tatty sheet and used it to gag her. He heard Toris choking back a laugh behind him as he worked on tying the soldiers arms behind his back, "Do you want to come and give me a hand?" hissed Iolaus as he struggled to keep the woman still.
"Thought you wanted the easy job," answered the taller man as he ghosted to his friends side with a couple of rawhide strips. He quickly tied the woman's hands and feet, before Iolaus got off her.
"Zuuu crssee yrr ttt Hyydds" came the muffled yells of anger.
"You too sweetheart," answered Iolaus patting her cheek as he sucked the hand that had been bitten.
They pulled Marcellus up between them and ducked out of the window. Toris dropped down into the back courtyard where he caught the Roman as Iolaus lowered him, before the shorter man dropped down to join him. "Where are we gonna take him?" asked Toris.
Iolaus shrugged, "Back to the inn. If we wrap your cloak around him, no one will see his hands are tied, and if anyone asks we'll tell them he's a friend come to spend a few candlemarks drinking with us. Pull the hood up, and with you holding him one side and me the other, no one will be able to tell."
With their plan hastily made, they headed back to their room without mishap. Once they had Marcellus safely tied to a chair, Iolaus hurried down to the tap room and bought six bottles of good red wine, "Met an old friend," he explained, "and we've got a lot of catching up to do."
He shot back up stairs where he found that Toris had brought round their guest using the expediency of dumping a pitcher of water over him. He shook his head groggily and looked around the room with bleary eyes, "Where am I?" he asked sullenly.
"Oh no, no, no, my friend," answered Toris softly, "We ask the questions here."
"Who are you," Marcellus blinked, shaking his head to clear his brain, "Do I know you? You look awfully familiar."
"What have you got in the wagon that your squad so carefully guards?" asked Toris patiently.
"Don't know what you're talking about," came the answer.
"Yes you do," said Toris gripping the luckless Marcellus by the chin, "and you're going to tell us all about it." He smiled as the Roman shook his head free and watched as Iolaus handed the tall man a large tankard of wine, "Have a drink with us Marcellus."
"She's won so far," Iolaus reminded him, "That healer, Patroclese, seems to be taking care of her injuries, and you know ... she's tough, right!"
"Yeah. But Damn it Iolaus! He's turning her into a gladiator." snarled Toris enraged by the idea. "I know she's about the best fighter around, but even she's gonna get really hurt after a while. You know gladiators don't have a very long lifespan. If we can't get her free it'll break Mother's heart."
"Caesar will keep her fit," Iolaus tried to soothe him, "You heard what Marcellus said, she's making him a fortune. If he can get her to the big fights in Rome, he'll clean up."
"We've got to get her away from him, Iolaus," said Toris softly.
"I know, my friend," agreed the shorter man patting Toris's shoulder in sympathy, "I know." He thought bleakly about what the continuous fighting and being treated like an animal would do to Xena. He prayed to the Gods that it wouldn't strip her of her hard won humanity and turn her back to the monster she had once been.
The long wooden hall was silent as Gaul and Roman looked at each other. Verchinex sat on a carved oak wood throne with no arms and a low back. The walls of the hall were hung with the skins of bear and wolf. A fire pit blazed in the centre of the floor, for all that it was mid-summer. Warriors lined the walls in leather armour, spears held in readiness to their chieftains command. One or two had faces painted blue with woad, yet others had used a solution of lime to stiffen long hair into frightening aspects.
- Savages! - Tirem spat with mental contempt for the Gaulish warriors.
The Gaul held his hand out for the message scroll that the soldier bore. It carried the Imperial seal of Rome. With a wry grin he ran a jagged fingernail along the seam of the seal and broke it with a stiff 'crack!'. The message was written in Latin and was meaningless to him, but he had a man in his tribe who could read it for him. Turning his disconcertingly light eyes back to the messenger, he told him, "Malvin will take you for some refreshment while I decide upon my answer to this," he held the scroll out contemptuously.
The Roman dipped his head in acknowledgement, hiding a wry smile at guessing that the Gaulish leader could not read Latin, and followed the tall Gaulish warrior from the council chamber of Verchinex. The bronze skinned, black haired Gaulish chieftain waited until the Roman had left the room, before motioning over one of his other guards and instructing, "Lachlan, fetch Folko to me. I have a task for him," he watched as the warrior turned to saunter from the hall, "And hurry, I would see him before the sun sets!" he roared, knowing full well that the sun had barely passed it's midday height.
Lachlan, however, speeded his step to a run and disappeared with commendable swiftness, knowing that his chief's temper became uncertain, at best, when mention of the Roman, Caesar, was made. Verchinex fought off a small smile that threatened as he mumbled, "Puppy," to himself.
"You should not tease your brother so," admonished a beautiful, fair haired woman, who wound her arms around his swarthy neck and gave his bearded cheek a gentle kiss. She had come in through the door of the anti-chamber in time to see the young man depart.
"Should I not," grumbled Verchinex as he pulled the woman from behind him to sit on his lap. He gazed with loving fondness into her blue eyes before kissing her thoroughly. Since he had been back from Rome, he could not stand to be away from her too long, - My Mendala, my wife! - he thought to himself, lovingly possessive.
"No you shouldn't, Verchinex, he is no different from any of your other warriors," she told him, "He idolizes you, my love" she told him with a soft smile, "as I do, and most of the Gaulish people for that matter."
"Hrrmpphh!" choked her husband, uncomfortable with that particular thought, "Lachlan, needs to be reminded that I'm his chief as well as his brother. He's too ready to let things slip because he thinks that I will protect him."
Mendala looked at him with that gentle smile he adored, "Just try not to be too hard on him," she told him, "for my sake, if not his. He did much to help me while you were gone from here, my love."
That brought a scowl to Verchinex's dark features as he waved the scroll at his wife. She stood up, took it from him and looked at the freshly broken seal, "From Caesar?" she asked, her fair brow creasing as she recognised the imprint in the wax.
"Aye," grumbled her husband, "I've sent Lachlan after Folko so I can find out what the serpent wants. Truthfully, Mendala, I'd rather deal with a viper, but with the build up of Legions along the borders I cannot ignore the chance of a peaceful settlement if possible."
"Can you trust Caesar?" she asked him carefully.
Verchinex considered carefully before answering. Putting aside his personal animosity for the man and trying to look at it dispassionately, he answered, "Of himself ... no. I wouldn't trust the man's word that the sky was blue." He held up his hand commanding her silence as he continued, "But if he has a proposal in the name of Rome ..." he glared at the Imperial seal on the scroll, "then I think he would honour such an agreement."
Mendala bit her lower lip as she fingered the scroll in her hands, "What is he proposing?" she asked. v "Can't say love," he grinned at her wolfishly, "until my sluggard brother gets back with Folko."
She scowled at him, a retort forming on her lips as the hall doors opened to admit the red faced Lachlan and the stout merchant Folko, who was gasping for breath due to the speed urged on him by his chief's brother, "About time you two got here," growled their unimpressed leader.
"I came as soon as Lachlan found me," Folko told him placatingly, puffing somewhat, "What do you have that needs my attention so?" he asked.
Mendala handed him the scroll and the merchant opened it, running his eyes over the Latin script as he allowed his breathing to return to normal. Knowing his chief, he raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "Do you want the full thing or the edited version?"
"Just tell me what it says, Folko, for Grannos's sake," returned Verchinex inciting the name of the sun god.
The merchant carefully read through the Latin hyperbole and began, "Ah, basically Caesar is inviting you to a meeting to discuss the situation in Gaul. He says he'd rather find a peaceful solution, than have to muster the Legions and impose a forceful one."
"Ha!" barked Lachlan snapping his fingers in derision, "That for the Roman," he declared. v "Quiet, Lachlan," ordered his brother impatiently as his brain absorbed the information in the missive. "Does he suggest a meeting place?" he asked thoughtfully.
"Aye, he does that, Verchinex, and a canny spot it is too. He suggests that as neither party is going to be very trusting of the other, that the meeting should take place on the border area close to the town of Vershin. He also say that he will draw back all Roman troops for a league around, if you will do the same with our Gauls, and that he'll bring an escort of just one maniple .. he says one hundred and eighty men .. just for protection against brigands." Folko told him handing the scroll back to his chief, "If he intends a trap he's making it very difficult for himself. The area around Vershin is very open and we'd see any treachery long before it could harm us."
"True," agreed the Gaulish chieftain, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "I wonder what Caesar thinks he can offer me at this meeting that will be to our mutual benefit. I trust the man not, but it would be unwise to spurn this chance in case we may bring peace to our people. For too long we have had to go hungry through the winter months because we were not able to gather the harvests."
"Should you not speak of this with Hyman, Calvert, Lyulph and some of the other chieftains," suggested Mendala. "They have a right to know of this message from Caesar."
"Aye lass, you're right," agreed her husband. "The messenger can cool his heels for a few days while I confer with the others, but I think they will follow my lead and something is telling me I should treat with Caesar, if only at arms length."
She had pretty much recovered from the injuries she had taken during the pit fights on her way here to Lugdunum. The last contest had been in Valence, one that she'd easily won, without taking much in the way of a hit in return. Which was just as well, because Blasius saw to it that she was never fully free of a bruise or two. She almost grinned as she remembered the black eye she had given him in the scramble at Orange. Still he had returned it with interest, and even Flaccus ignored his more obvious brutality since she'd managed to cut his beloved Caesar with that knife.
She could almost hear her mother scolding her as a child, when she returned home from some childish jaunt to find that some boy's mother had complained to Cyrene about the bruises her child had come home with, "Xena!" came the angry reproof as she had set foot inside the tavern, "By the God's child! When are you going to learn to control your temper!"
So many times she'd earned a spanking, been sent to her room without supper and forbidden to leave the inn until her mother gave her leave. Then the same thing would happen all over again as the bigger boys tried to push her around and found out that they couldn't handle Tor's little sister.
Eventually she got big enough and fast enough to avoid her mother's scoldings and punishments. When she knew she was going to be in trouble, she'd steal into the inn and raid the larder for supplies and then hide out in the woods, in a very hard to find cave, until her family's anxiety overrode the reason for her taking off in the first place.
She hid a wry grin for the one time it hadn't worked.
She'd been about nine or ten, and her mother had got wise to her tricks. She had been so very careful when she scouted out the tavern to find out where everyone was. Toris was hunting through the barn promising dire retribution against her for blacking his friend Tomases' eye .. on top of splitting his lip and cracking one of his ribs .. while Lyceus had sat waiting in their room for her to return.
She'd dropped in the window, given him a quick hug and told him, "Don't worry, Ly. I'm just going away for a few days until Mother cools off a bit."
"Watcha hit him for?" asked her younger brother as he helped her roll up a blanket and collect a fishing line.
"Doesn't matter," Xena told him, preferring not to tell her younger brother about the awful things she'd heard Tomases saying about their mother. She'd made certain that he'd be too scared to repeat them. Her mother had enough trouble trying to raise her family and run the inn without kids spreading gossip that she was of easy virtue. She winced a bit at the thought. Those hadn't been the words he'd used. She just wished she'd been able to find out who had started the lies.
"Where's Mother?" she asked, knowing that she needed to gather some food from the larder. She wouldn't be able to live on just the fish she'd be able to catch. Besides she wanted to lie low until the hunt died down.
"I think she went over to apologise to Tomases' parents. You really did mess him up some, Xena," Lyceus told here in a quiet voice.
"Good," she growled her very blue eyes becoming as cold as ice chips, "he deserved it." She looked fondly at her little brother and smiled as she ruffled his hair, "Stay close to Mother, Ly, she's gonna need you."
"But I wanna come with you," her brother told her in no uncertain terms.
"You can't Lyceus. Mother will worry enough anyway, I need you to tell her that I won't be gone long. Just until things cool down. Tell her not to worry." she said seriously.
She waited until Lyceus had nodded his head, shaking his curly brown hair as he did so, before slipping out of the room and downstairs clutching her blanket and a pouch to stuff some supplies into. She had gone silently, making no noise just in case her mother was lurking, but she'd seen no one and had tiptoed into the kitchen and the larder certain that she was safe.
It was as she began to gather some bread and cheese that she'd felt her mother's presence and had turned to bolt for the door. But Cyrene had swung the door shut behind her and stood with her arms crossed and foot tapping, waiting to hear her daughter's explanation for her latest piece of bad behaviour.
Xena had just looked at her mother, stubbornness written all over her very expressive features. There was no possible way that she was going to tell her what Tomases had said, and she hated having to give excuses to her mother at anytime. So she had stood there defiantly and waited for the punishment she knew would be forthcoming.
"Xena!" her mother had yelled, "By the God's child, when are you going to learn to control your temper."
Getting no answer and no explanation had infuriated Cyrene. Her strange, willful, rebellious, difficult, daughter, so often tried her patience. She had taken a firm hold of Xena's ear and hauled her down to the root cellar and paddled her behind, before locking her in so that she couldn't just run off.
She had spent three days down in that cellar brooding and miserable while Tomases' parents demanded far harsher retribution on Cyrene's wild child. The inn keeper had stuck up for Xena like a she bear for her cub, but things hadn't been settled until Toris had heard exactly what Tomases had been saying and had reluctantly told his Mother, ashamed of his friendship with the other boy and the punishment it had caused for his younger sister.
Cyrene had felt bitterly aggrieved, not for herself, but for her daughter whose loyalty and love had been so poorly repaid. She had descended to the cellar with a heavy heart to find her wildly unpredictable child sitting huddled in a corner brooding quietly. Sitting herself on the bottom step, she'd held her arms out to Xena, who had come to her like some half broken filly, ready to shy away at the first wrong move, but she had, eventually, revelled in her mother's protective arms, fiercely refusing to allow the tears she could feel welling up within her, to fall.
- That was, - she thought to herself, wryly, - almost the last time I allowed that kind of contact with Mother as a child. - she allowed herself a self deprecating laugh over the loss, "Oh, Mother," she muttered softly, "If only you could rescue me from my imprisonment now." She shook her head refusing to acknowledge the tears that pricked at her eyes.
She heard a sound behind her and found Blasius moving close to the bars. She watched him as he approached, noticing the chain he carried in his left hand and the baton held in the other. Another ten men armed with batons stood ready behind him. Muscles tensed. She knew it wasn't beyond him to administer a little harsh discipline and claim she had failed to obey an order. None of the soldiers would dispute his word, they were too afraid of him for that.
A quickly flicked glance told her that Flaccus was watching. It gave her a little reassurance. For all that the senior Centurion had relaxed his edicts against her being too harshly treated since Orange, he was unlikely to allow Blasius to flagrantly abuse her ... without Caesar's specific orders to do so of course! - Well, - she thought, - you've given him reason to do so. -
"C'mon you animal," growled the optio as the cell door swung open, "You're wanted."
She should have guessed. - Another fight. How many opponents this time. Four?, Five? - After her last easy victory, Caesar might well be looking to increase the opposition against her and give himself better odds for his wager.
The brief thought of making them come and get her flicked across her mind and was discarded. She'd made a promise to Gabrielle and she'd try to keep it as best she was able to do so. Her face an impassive mask, she shuffled across the cell floor to the door, where she was met by Blasius.
He stepped aside to let her past him, and she instinctively knew what he was going to do. She relaxed the muscles in her legs and allowed the blow he aimed behind her knees to be absorbed, "When you're called, slave," he growled close to her ear, "you come running."
He roughly locked the chain to the collar around her neck and gave it a hard tug, hoping to provoke some show of resistance, some defiance that he could legitimately use as an excuse to administer a beating. Xena resumed her impassive stance and waited for the inevitable shove that she knew would come.
The ten men formed tight around her and a larger contingent of twenty formed up around them. She suppressed a smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. The awe and fear she inspired in her gaolers was something to behold. No matter that they had her chained and could beat her on a whim, they were still terrified that she would slip through their grasp and lay them open to Caesar's not so tender mercies.
Walking at any pace caused her quite a bit of pain as the cuffs on the leg irons bit savagely at her flesh. Patroclese fought a never ending battle with the cuts and sores that her chains rubbed around her wrists and ankles. She wore permanent dressings that protected her skin somewhat, but not on the forced marches that Blasius insisted upon whenever he commanded her guard.
Taking notice of her surroundings was second nature to the Warrior Princess. Her mind automatically mapped the route, from her cell, in her mind. It wasn't unusual for her to be taken up from the lower dungeon levels to the main quarters of a building to get to the fighting pit, but this time, they were taking her to a far higher part of the building.
Stairs were a big problem. She had a relatively small amount of slack allowed on the leg irons, and stairways took a lot of concentration and more pain as the cuffs chaffed up and down over raw bound skin, and higher, unprotected areas. When she stumbled and slipped to her knees on about the fourth flight they'd negotiated, Blasius had jerked her upright with the chain to her collar, causing her to choke on the sudden constriction.
"What's the matter, scum?" he snarled at her, "The so called Destroyer of Nations, doesn't look so tough to me."
She looked at him. Just looked. It was one of those that touched the frozen wastes, that evoked the burning fires of Tartarus, that promised death. Just a look.
Blasius swallowed and took a step back, almost falling down the stairs, held up only by the press of men behind him. He heard a snigger and rage suffused his face. He hated to be made to look a fool. He hated anyone to see just how terrified he was of this woman. He swung the baton at her and stared with disbelief at the hand that had caught it. He tried to wrest it free from her grasp and saw the wild feral lights dance in her eyes, as she maintained her hold, pulling the weapon towards herself.
Blasius exerted all his strength to tug the baton from her grip, and heard her say grimly, "You want it?" before he had time to register her intent, she let it go saying, "You got it!"
The under officer found himself catapulted backwards by his own momentum. His hands released both the baton and the chain he held as he tried to grasp something .. anything .. to stop his wild fall. The soldiers on the crowded stairway threw themselves out of the way of his flying bulk, although a few unlucky souls got carried along by him.
The rest of the guard pressed around Xena, one man grabbing up the chain, others presenting their batons in readiness to beat her into submission. The Warrior Princess ignored them, standing calmly, not threatening any of the others. She watched stone faced as Blasius hit the floor below with a solid crash. He lay unmoving as the three men around him got carefully to their feet. There was an unnatural twist to the optio's neck that heralded his certain death.
One of the soldiers, a decurion, the one with the chain in his hand, one that Xena was sure had been the object of much of Blasius's bullying, stared down at the officer and said to his comrades, "He slipped and fell. It was no one's fault but his own." He gave Xena a sharp nod of gratitude as the muttered agreement came from all the men of the guard. None of them had liked the optio.
"Aquila," instructed the decurion who seemed to have taken charge, - Junius, - she remembered his name as being, "Go and tell the Centurion that the optio slipped and fell down a flight of steps and appears to be dead from a broken neck ... we are sure he's dead?" he shot a question to the men at the foot of the stairs, and got a nod from one of the three standing with the junior officers body. "Tell Flaccus that we're taking the slave up to the General."
Well, at least that told Xena her current destination, but it didn't explain what Caesar might want with her. She turned back to negotiate the difficult steps and found Junius looking at her, "Blasius was a pig," he told her quietly, "and sooner or later he was going to end up dead, but don't get the idea that you can pick us off one by one, because the rest of us stick together, and we're the Emperor's picked men. We'll treat you fair as long as you behave fair."
Xena gave him a quick nod. The Legionaries were happy enough to be out from under the control of a bullying officer, but that's about all the slack she could expect from them. They wouldn't go looking to beat her just for the sake of it. She suspected they had a respect for her even, but it wouldn't stop them from doing their job, "Fair enough," she told the Roman.
Junius set an easier pace, giving the Warrior Princess the time she needed to negotiate the difficult levels. The guard, however remained tight around her. No one was going to get close enough to her to break her loose, and she wasn't going to get the room to escape them.
Two guards stood to rigid attention outside of a door that had to be Caesar's. Junius knocked on the ornately carved and gilded wood and was bidden, "Enter," by a voice that Xena's being throbbed to with the familiar pulse of rage that ran rampant through her blood. She forced the emotion down. She was going to need all her wits about her for another confrontation with her enemy. She needed to be focused and anger clouded her ability to do that.
Junius went inside the apartment, leaving Xena and her guard outside to await further instructions. The soldier's report took a few minutes as he explained the modified version of what had happened to the optio. Even the Warrior Princess's acute hearing couldn't hear what was said beyond the door, but if Caesar wasn't bellowing, it was likely that he accepted the decurion's story.
When the door opened once more, the ten original guards were signalled to march her into Caesar's presence. With barely a movement of her eyes, she registered the lavish furnishings, the large window, screened by a heavy ornamental grill, the four guards (two by the window and two by the door), Junius, Patroclese and of course, seated behind a wide marble desk, Caesar himself, a livid red scar forming along the line of his cheekbone, the stiches having been removed.
"Hello Xena," he greeted as if she were a close friend paying a social visit. She returned his greeting with a look of freezing malice. Unfazed he motioned her to a chair in front of him, on the opposite side of the desk.
When she didn't move, Junius prodded her lightly. It was an improvement on her normal treatment and she saw no profit in baulking. Besides, she was intrigued as to just what game Caesar was playing with her now. She walked slowly to the indicated chair, her chains dragging across the floor with a metallic rattle. Sitting down, she kept eye contact with him and waited for him to speak.
Junius remained standing behind her, his hand wrapped around the chain that was leash to her collar, - Just like a dog, - she thought bitterly. The other members of the guard fanned out to the edges of the room.
"I hear that Patroclese has been teaching you how to play chess," he smiled, watching her with a contented possessiveness, "I thought I'd like to judge your progress myself." He snapped his fingers and a servant appeared from a connected chamber with a richly decorated set of ivory and ebony, both inlaid with gold and gems.
Her eyes remained locked to his. - Do I really want to play games with this man? - She thought about chess. "A battle board", Patroclese had called it. Perhaps Caesar sought to best her here having lost to her strategy on the field of battle. Her eyes glinted at the thought. She had little doubt that Caesar had been playing the game for many years longer than she had, and no doubt counted himself a master at it. He would expect to beat her.
She nodded her head in acceptance of the challenge, and almost smiled when she thought about what Gabrielle would have said, "You're impossible," the bard's words came clearly, "Show you a challenge and you just can't resist it." Well she'd be damned if she let Caesar think she was afraid to face him on any field of battle. She'd give him a game to think about.
By the third night, in the small camp that the guard maniple had erected for their nightly stop, even Brutus was becoming disturbed about his charge's health and mental well being. He had been informed that the bard was struggling to keep up on the march, when he knew, full well, that the girl was more than able to keep to a hard pace. She had proven it in her travels with the Warrior Princess.
"What's amiss with her?" he asked the Senior Centurion, Paullus.
"The men have been reporting that she doesn't sleep, sir," answered Paullus, a man who looked younger than his almost forty summers, "And that when she does, she wakes up screaming. It's obvious that she's having nightmares and none of the men know what to do for her. She's stopped eating now and she seems to be shaking all the time."
"Juno good and great," swore his commander, "If we lose her, Caesar will have us all crucified, starting with me and ending up with the lowliest legionary. It's a damn pity that we haven't got Caesar's healer, Patroclese, with us. He'd be able to mix something up to make the girl sleep."
Paullus looked thoughtful, "Perhaps one of the medical orderlies has something, sir. It might be worthwhile asking. Meronius has a way with herbs, he might be able to suggest a remedy," he said after a moment's thought.
Brutus nodded his head. "Get your Meronius to take a look at her. We have to do something before she becomes really ill."
Meronius was a big man. He stood over six feet in height and had a muscular build that totally belied his gentleness as he examined the bard. She sat unresisting in a foggy daze as he checked her over. He noted that her eyes had lost whatever keenness they had possessed, her gaze was distant and withdrawn. Her hair had lost it's luster and spasms shook her body. The medic looked up as the senior Centurion entered through the canvas doorway, followed by the Tribune, Brutus. Meronius stood and moved to where the two men waited. and answered the unspoken question, "Sir, she's suffering from fatigue and a morbid depression."
"We'd worked that out for ourselves," snapped Brutus in annoyance, "Have you a remedy, man?"
"There is a sleep potion that may work. We use it on seriously injured men, who are going to die, just to ease their last few candlemarks. It should put her into a deep dreamless sleep and help her to recover," informed the medic.
"Why do I know that there's going to be a problem with this," muttered Brutus in frustration as he noted the man's edginess.
Meronius shuffled his feet and said, "Sir I have no idea how long the patient will be unconscious with this drug. As I said it is normally only used on the dying men. Whatever I give her could knock her unconscious for a few candlemarks, or even a few days."
Brutus looked at the bard. She sat on a blanket, close to the stake that held her chained by a leg iron. The woman was important to Caesar, and in honesty, he'd hate to try and control that hellcat, Xena, without the girl to use as a threat against her behaviour. With that in mind, there was no way that he could allow this 'illness' to develop, "Make sure she takes some of your draft. If it keeps her unconscious for a time, that's no real problem. At least we'll know that she won't be able to slip through our fingers."
"As you say sir," agreed the medic.
"Oh, Meronius," Brutus suddenly had a thought as he moved towards the tent's flap, "I want you to stay with her from now on. She's your concern. I want you to make certain that she eats and sleeps and regains her fitness."
Meronius snapped into rigid attention executed a perfect salute and replied, "Sir!" in proper military fashion.
As his superiors left, he turned back to his charge and deftly mixed up a sleeping draft in a cup of water. He held the cup to Gabrielle's lips and encouraged her to swallow the liquid. The bard complied with a lack of interest that brought a sympathetic quirk to the medics lips. He wondered just what made this one young slave so important that it had the Tribune worrying after her health.
He fingered the collar and read the inscription, "So you belong to Caesar, child." he mused as he picked up the bowl of stew and encouraged the apathetic girl to eat, "I thought he liked his women close to his hand ... and more experienced," continued Meronius softly, as he remembered the stories told of Caesar's prowess with the women. It was a source of ribald pride amongst his men.
When Gabrielle had finished eating, her eyes began to drift shut. The big medic helped her to lay down, and gently tucked a blanket around her, pleased to see the look of peace on her face and the relaxation of her tightly strung, muscular body, "Sleep child," he said, seeing an image of his own daughter laid over the girls features. He hadn't seen Damita for five long years, but she'd had the golden, red, blonde tresses that this girl wore, although her eyes were brown and not the blue green of the bard's.
He felt an obscure and totally unreasoned desire to protect this girl, and he would do his best to make sure she came through whatever was bothering her. It was part of what made Gabrielle so special. Her natural goodness shone through and made those around her protective of her well being ... except, of course, for those deadly enemies of hers, such as Callisto, Valesca, Caesar, Ares and several other warlords and bad men of lesser note.
Joxer, who was now attired in the black leather trousers and tunic that he'd purchased just before his reunion with his brother Jet, looked at the thief with blank incomprehension and said, "Of course not." He plucked a blackberry from the brier and offered it to Autolycus, smiling hugely and saying, "Want some. They make a good breakfast. And it's not my fault that your cloths are cloth and mine are leather, now is it?"
Autolycus took the fruit and glared at his 'warrior' companion, "You sneaky little Cretin of Chaos, you. You did chose this on purpose."
Joxer's grin widened as he popped another berry into his own mouth, "Paybacks are a bitch," he exulted, rolling away when the thief looked like he was going to settle a score of his own. "Hey! C'mon. Ya gotta admit that this is the best spot to watch those Roman goons from."
Autolycus settled down muttering dire imprecations that Joxer failed to catch the meaning of. But he did hear the thief grumble, "I bet Iolaus hasn't got this problem with Toris."
Turning his attention down the sharp hill, the King of Thieves watched as the Roman maniple began to strike camp. His eyes narrowed as he saw a litter being taken towards the only tent still standing and he began to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped that it was the blackberries, but he had an idea that it was being caused by something far worse. A sudden spasm of fear.
"Perhaps someone's ill?" suggested Joxer naively.
Autolycus looked at him as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, "Do you know where Gabrielle is?" he asked pointedly.
"No, where?" asked his companion in return scanning the area looking for the familiar red blonde hair that would pin point her location.
Autolycus grabbed him by the nose and twisted hard to vent his frustration and anxiety, "She's in that tent. The tent where they just took that litter. Do I need to draw you a picture or do you understand what that means?" he demanded, yanking the nose hard as he let go.
"Owww!" moaned Joxer clutching at his tormented snout, "That hurt," he whined, before suddenly realizing what Autolycus had been trying to explain to him. "Hey!" he almost shouted, trying to scramble to his knees.
"Cut that out," hissed the thief, as he pulled his companion down next to him. Do you want to tell them where we are?" A spear sliced through the bramble cover and pierced the ground between them. Autolycus swallowed, his eyes rivetted to the spear head as he said, "This is not good."
A rough voice ordered, "Come out of there ... slowly. You make any funny moves and we'll turn that bush into a pin cushion."
The thief scowled at Joxer, "Hey Autolycus," he grumbled as he edged out of the bush, carefully, "I've found a great place to keep watch ... amateurs! Ha!"
"Hmmmm!" grinned Joxer apologetically embarrassed, "Sorry."
When both men had extricated themselves from the brier, they found themselves surrounded by a decurion and a ten man patrol unit .. all with weapons drawn, four of them holding bows. "Put your hands on top of your heads," the officer instructed.
"Would you believe it if I told you we were just hunting up breakfast?" asked the thief hopefully.
"Not a chance," the decurion confirmed cheerfully.
"Thought not," groused the King of Thieves unhappily.
"Search them," ordered the officer.
With Autolycus shooting black glares at his companion, the pair complied, while they were roughly searched for weapons and anything else that might be considered contraband in these particular circumstances. The soldier searching Joxer finished quite quickly, but the man assigned to search Autolycus kept finding a variety of odd looking metallic instruments, lock picks, grappling hooks, pistol crossbows and any other number of things that would be impossible to put a name too.
When the decurion looked a question at him, the thief shrugged and answered, "Just the tools of my trade, I'm a scrap merchant."
A grin split the grizzled Roman's face, "Don't bother son," he told Autolycus. "We know who you are, now tell us where your other two mates have got to."
Autolycus looked at him with incomprehension, "Sorry, don't know who you mean."
"He means Iolaus and Tor ... Owwwww!" yelled Joxer hopping up and down on one foot, from the pain of Autolycus's boot coming down heavily on his toes, "Whatdidyadothatfor," he demanded in a garbled rush.
Autolycus shook his head ruefully, "You'll have to make allowances for my ... friend," he said with heavy sarcasm, "He tends to open his mouth at the most inappropriate times." He shot another glare at Joxer who got the message.
The decurion shook his head at them. "Never mind. We'll see what the tribune has to say about you both." He signalled his men, who formed up around the two captives, "Move out," he ordered, leading the way back down the hill to the camp.
Joxer and Autolycus, both still with their hands on their heads, followed along, shoved every now and then by the legionaries around them, to make sure that they kept up with the pace. Autolycus muttered imprecations under his breath, while Joxer did his best to avoid his companion's glare.
Paullus waved at the decurion who escorted his find to the Tribune and gave his commander a precise military salute, "Sir," he announced, "we found these two skulking on the hill, up there," he pointed to the relevant place.
"I do not skulk," muttered Autolycus insulted, "I spy out the lay of the land."
"I don't think 'spy' is such a good word to use either," whispered back Joxer through the side of his mouth.
Autolycus, smiled at Brutus and lowered his hands, "Ah, there seems to be a misunderstanding here," he explained, "All my ... friend and I were doing was getting some breakfast. That blackberry bush up there has quite delicious fruits, you know." He smiled ingratiatingly.
"This would be the thief, then," said Brutus, looking Autolycus over with consideration tinged with respect. His glance flicked to Joxer who stood straight trying to look nonchalant, "and this would be the fool."
"Hey!" he protested but was abruptly silent when the but end of a pila whacked him across his thigh, "Fool's good," he agreed.
Brutus turned his eyes on Autolycus, "Where are the others?" he asked placidly. The thief gave him a look of contempt and turned to give Joxer a warning stare, so he didn't see the Tribune's fist coming.
Seeing stars rotate slowly around his head wasn't a new experience for Autolycus. Associating with Xena and Hercules had introduced him to the vision some time ago. Seeing men tower above him as he sat prone on his fundament was also nothing new. He felt his tender jaw and moved it experimentally, before looking up at Brutus and saying, "That was uncalled for, " and couldn't resist adding, "I bet not many of your friends turn their back on you." A spear shaft "Thwacked" solidly across his back.
"What do you want done with them, Tribune?" asked Paullus.
"Shackle them," Brutus answered. "Keep a close watch on them. Especially the mouthy one. Oh, and Paullus, tell off a pair of runners to get to the closest garrison with horsemen and have them inform Lord Caesar that two of his birds are in the hand. Tell him it's the thief and the fool. He'll understand."
As the manacles and leg irons were brought out, Autolycus got to his feet and nudged Joxer, pointing with his chin as the litter was brought out of the last standing tent and they could see Gabrielle's motionless form laying on it. Without thinking, Joxer tried to rush to the bard's side, only to be dropped like a poleaxed steer as the heavy shaft of a Roman pila clipped him neatly behind the ear.
"Damn it Joxer!" swore the King of Thieves as he felt an urge to defend his companion, - This doing good stuff must be rubbing off from Xena and Gabrielle, - he thought to himself, - "Sheesh!" he hissed as he was neatly clubbed down too. - Guys, you're gonna owe me big time for this! - was his last conscious thought for some while.
- My luck can't be this good! - he thought as he scrambled on his knees to her side and looked down into her sleeping face. "Gabrielle," he whispered, shaking her shoulder, "Hey, c'mon Gabrielle, wake up. It's me, Autolycus." - Full marks for an original line, - his brain sneered at him.
"She's got a strong sleeping drug inside her," came a voice from the door. Autolycus swivelled to face the owner as it was opened to admit Meronius.
"What's the matter?" he asked sarcastically, "Aren't a hundred men enough to keep one small girl from escaping, so that you've got to drug her?"
Meronius walked to his side and checked on his patient's pulse, lifting an eyelid to see if she was any closer to regaining consciousness, "Actually," he explained, "she was given it because she had barely slept for three nights. She was having these nightmares ... and we were getting worried about her."
"So you doped her up to the eyeballs, right?" sneered the thief. "Well don't you think it's about time she woke up."
"I do, but I have no idea how much longer she'll be out. I had hoped that hearing you and your friend talk to her, might do the trick." said the medic calmly.
"Is Joxer okay," asked Autolycus, sparing a glance for his warrior wannabe companion.
"He has a thick head ..." answered Meronius.
"Never a truer word ..." muttered the King of Thieves.
"... he'll be fine." finished the medic.
A groan from Joxer bore out that comment and they heard him say, "Owww! My head feels like it's been run over by a herd of centaurs."
"You okay?" questioned Autolycus.
"I think so," admitted his friend.
"Then get over here and talk to Gabrielle. We need to try and wake her up, and I can't think of anyone more likely to succeed at doing that than you ... other than Xena of course."
"Ya think so?" asked Joxer scrambling over to their sides, a proud grin on his face.
"Oh yeah," assured the thief fervently, "your voice is enough to force the dead from their graves."
Joxer's jaw set ready for a retort, but before he could speak, a hand shot up from the pallet and grabbed his ear, "Joxer!" said a rasping, but very recognisable voice, "What in the name of Hera are you doing here?" she demanded, forcing her eyes to open, and seeing Autolycus as well. "Great guys, just great."
"We're here to rescue you Gabby," grinned Joxer as she released him. She looked pointedly at the shackles that graced both his and the thief's wrists. "Ummm, we've got a few details to work out," he admitted.
"Sheesh!" muttered Autolycus yet again. - How do I get myself into these things? -
He allowed a brief smile of contentment to ease onto his features. By the time he had finished his business with Verchinex, and got Xena back to Rome, he would have accumulated enough dinars to really cause Pompey problems. And, with the Warrior Princess to fight in the private pits of the city, and maybe even some of the big prize gladiatorial combats in the Coliseum, he would have plenty of money for the foreseeable future.
- Oh, Xena, my pet, - he thought possessively, - What a true treasure you are. Far better than just a wagon load of gold! You replenish my stocks like a bottomless purse. -
He put the scroll down and lent his elbows on the desk, lowering his chin onto his loosely clenched fists as he allowed his mind to play over his plans once more. He tested every crack, every crevice, for danger and the chance that something could go wrong, and formulated back up plans to take care of the unexpected. A good general always had a fall back position ... just in case!
A knock on the door announced the entry of a guard who responded to Caesar's raised eyebrow with, "Messenger back from the barbarians, sir."
Caesar sat back in his chair and replied, "Send him in, Crato." He tried to make it a point to know as many of the men's name under his command as possible, especially those in the elite maniple and those of his personal guard.
The dusty, travel stained messenger hurried through the door to where his general awaited him. He executed a salute and stood waiting for leave to speak to his commanding officer, "Well?" demanded Caesar, wanting to compel the soldier to produce a reply, "Did they send an answer Tirem?"
"Yes sir, but not a written one," answered the man promptly.
"Well then out with it man. What did the Gaul say?" demanded the Roman noble imperiously.
"Sir, the barbarian, Verchinex, says he agrees to the meeting and your terms. He says he'll be there in seven days time, but that if you play false he'll drive you and every ..." Tirem stopped, contriving to look embarrassed and a little unsure of himself, which took some doing for a veteran courier.
"Just complete the message, Tirem. I'm sure you'd appreciate some rest and there's nothing that the Gaul can say that hasn't been said before by at least one other person." Caesar assured him.
The courier completed the message and was grateful for the hand that flicked his dismissal. The look on the general's face, when he'd told him exactly what the barbarian planned to do to his commander and the legions, had been grim enough to make him wish the floor would open up and swallow him. As he closed the door behind him, the sentries on duty saw him shake his head and wander off down the corridor muttering, "I didn't know it was even possible to do that to another man."
The guards looked across at each other and shrugged their shoulders. If someone had sent a message to upset the commander then they'd soon know about it. They stood and waited to see what would develop.
It galled her to lose to him, but no more than it did for him to lose to her, especially as she was so new to the game, and he was considered to be something of an expert. Xena had little doubt that she would eventually even the score with him, but she also began to recognise that in this game, much like in life, he was her match. Not in any physical sense. In a straight out fight she'd cut him into little pieces, although he might provide a little sport in doing so. And definitely not in a partnership sense! She may have loved him once, but that had long since been ground into the dust and the seeds that had sprung from that love had been rage and hatred. No they were matched adversaries. As commanders, strategists and tacticians they were a pair. Each counterbalanced the other to perfection. Which is why the bloodless battleground of the chess board was proving to be an attraction neither of them could resist.
She lowered her head towards her captive hands as the straw she was laying on began to irritate her nose. She scratched the offending area and pushed the unhappy memories of Chin, that the action conjured, firmly into the deep pits of her mind, preferring to think of happier moments with her bardic friend ....
Like the time, at some inn somewhere, when Gabrielle had been deeply involved in the telling of a story ... about one of their minor adventures, Xena seemed to remember. The bard was perched on a stool on a table, and had become very animated in her description of the Warrior Princess's battle with a rogue centaur which had the crowd spellbound ....
Unfortunately, during the action bard, stool and table had parted company, and Gabrielle had landed in a heap on the floor with a very red face and a very sore rear end. She had gamely finished the tale but, the following morning she had refused Xena's offer of a ride on Argo with heated vehemence and had become quite belligerent about the whole thing when she caught the Warrior Princess with a half smile on her face.
"Quit that," the bard had snarled, not feeling in the mood to be the 'butt' of anyone's amusement and cultivating an angry attitude to hide her embarrassment over the incident and her sore backside. It all just seemed to bring the worst out in Xena. Well, not really the worst, more like the playful, which seemed like the worst to the bard at the time.
"Make me," grinned Xena feeling, just for once, light hearted enough to play.
Gabrielle had stood in the middle of the road, frustration plain on her face, as she tried to work out someway of getting her own back, without suffering yet worse indignities.
"One of these days, Xena, I'm gonna do just that!" shouted the blonde stamping her foot angrily.
A look had edged it's way into the Warrior Princess's eyes as she cocked her head to listen for something. Then she swung a leg over the horse's head and slipped lightly down onto the dusty road. A wicked smile had played across her lips as she hooked her chakram and sword onto Argo's saddle, shrugged out of her armour and hung that there as well.
"Ah! Xena," began the bard, recognising the glint, and bringing up her staff protectively, "what have you got in mind?" she asked, swinging her weapon in defensive arcs as her friend had advanced on her.
"Oh, I just though that you might need something to help cool you off," came the reply, with that wickedly playful grin and the devilishly flickering eyes.
Gabrielle had looked around wildly, guessing that there was water close somewhere, and that she was destined for it. She saw none, but in that brief second she had taken to look, Xena had by-passed the staff's menace by the simple expedient of a forward flip over the bard. She had then resorted to brute force, by scooping Gabrielle up off the ground in her strong muscular arms.
"Xena! Put me down!" yelled the blonde, wriggling wildly.
The Warrior Princess grinned impudently at her and had started a mad, haring run, through the woods, until she reached a spot where she had launched both of them off a high bank, into a deep pool below.
Gabrielle had come to the surface spluttering over the indignity of it all, looking to see where Xena had got too. When after some time, the dark warrior hadn't surfaced, the bard began to get frantic and started to dive down to look for her lost companion. After about the sixth such attempt at search and rescue, the blonde had heard a cool clear laugh from the shore, where she spotted Xena sitting by a fire, already drying out, while she was gutting and preparing two large fish, ready for lunch.
- My bard's rage was a wonder to behold, - grinned Xena to herself as she had remembered the rest of the day, which they had spent by the pool doing domestic chores, such as making some long needed repairs to her armour, while Gabrielle, once she had calmed down, took the chance to write out another story. It had been an idyllic, peaceful interlude in their normally hectic and deadly dangerous lives.
The smile slipped and faded as she returned to her present and remembered just exactly where she was, and where Gabrielle could be. She shook her head impatiently. They'd been in Lugdunum for four days, and there hadn't even looked like being another pit fight during that time.
Since Blasius's unfortunate 'accident' she'd been treated with a fairness and respect which she hadn't really expected. Her assorted bruises had, at last, all disappeared, although the sores around her wrists and ankles were still in evidence, if better than they had been.
So if there were no fights, and no movement, they were obviously waiting for something. - The reply to a message, - her active brain suggested. - He's looking for a meeting with Verchinex. But just what are his aims? - She didn't question her part in Caesar's likely plans. She was fairly certain that she'd already worked that out.
The other thing that worried her was her four would-be rescuers. There had been a real ruction in the guardroom when one of the men on a pass had failed to return at the allotted time. The garrison patrols had been turned out and the soldier found with startling rapidity. He'd been stumbled across, literally, outside the garrison walls, stone drunk.
>From what she had heard of the matter, from her guards whispers and from piecing two and two together, (they had no idea just how acute her hearing was, so she often picked up scraps of information that she was never meant to have), she knew that two men had abducted him and forced him to divulge information about their special prisoner. The very vague descriptions that the soldier had given could have been anyone. But, allowing for the fact they knew she was here, it was almost certainly two of her friends and, descriptions or not, Xena had a fair idea which of the two it was.
Since then, the fighting had been keenly contested and he was now looking for the final thirty warriors to accompany him. Of his chieftains, he'd take just three with him, his dignity demanded no less, but he had decided to leave Calvert and Lyulph in charge of the rest of the Gaulish forces should they be needed for rescue or revenge.
His mind continued to work on the problem of just what Caesar expected from him. He knew the man well enough to know that he would never have sought the meeting if he didn't think he would be able to get Verchinex's agreement on some issue that would be of profit to the Roman. The question was, what was it? and what made Caesar think that he could get him to swallow it?
He shook his shaggy black curls in frustration, focusing his attention on the fight as it was narrowing down to a conclusion. To his surprise he saw that his brother, Lachlan, was still amongst those in with a chance for one of the sought after positions, - Mendala's right, - he thought, - I've got to stop looking at him as though he were a child. He's a man grown and shows some ability. -
Finally the battle came to a natural conclusion when only thirty men were left standing on the battleground. Verchinex was somewhat proud and surprised to see that Lachlan had made the select one hundred and eighty men. He stood and motioned for the other one hundred and fifty warriors to join the last thirty, "You men have won a place in the guard that will accompany me to this meeting with Caesar. It will fall on you to ensure that Caesar does not live to leave Vershin if he meets us with treachery. May the glory of the gods be with you all."
The two men sat huddled in yet another barn, on a farm just outside of Lugdunum. The city had got just too hot to hold them, with strong patrols out, searching for strangers and whisking off anyone they didn't like the look of. The pair had managed to avoid any real trouble, but they'd decided that they were better off waiting beyond the city walls until they could work out just what in Hades they were going to do next.
They had talked out just about every possible plan they could think of for getting inside the garrison, getting through a hundred and eighty or more trained, veteran, soldiers, getting Xena out of her cell and shackles and then getting out of the place with their skins in one piece.
- It is, - Toris had finally conceded, - plain impossible! Unless we get ourselves captured and taken into the fortress, but then we'd be in just as big a fix as Xena is. - He thought glumly.
"I wonder how Autolycus and Joxer are getting on?" said Iolaus, looking for something to break the silence.
"They can't be any worse off than we are," chipped in Toris.
"Don't you be too sure. I think those two could find trouble even in the Elysian Fields." smiled the smaller man, who Toris was rapidly beginning to regard as a good friend.
"Like someone else I could mention," grinned the taller man as he thought about his sister.
Iolaus looked at the man who was so like Xena, yet so different in many important ways. He had the blazing anger, but it was usually unfocused and quickly forgotten. He showed glimpses of Xena's fighting skills, but would never be the warrior his sister was. He shared her looks, but without the startling intensity. In many ways he was a pale shadowy imitation of the Warrior Princess. "What was she like?" asked Iolaus suddenly, "As a child I mean."
Toris thought about it for a long moment. How best could he describe his sister as a child, "Competitive," he said at last. "I'm three years older than Xena, but by the time she was walking she competed with me for everything. You know how it is, brothers never have any time for little sisters ... they just get in the way. My friends and me, we used to try and chase her and Lyceus, our younger brother he was about a year younger than Xena, away, so that we could play our games in peace, without having little brats about."
"I bet that pleased her," grinned Iolaus who could just imagine how a miniature Xena would take that kind of rejection.
Toris shook his head ruefully, "You have no idea. When I was nine, me and my friends spotted an eagles nest about three quarters of the way up a cliff near the village. We'd all tried to find a way up to the nest to get at the eggs. It was like our own test of manhood, you see. The first one amongst us who could climb to the nest and get an egg would become the group's official leader."
"Don't tell me! Xena did it first." laughed Iolaus.
"Damned right!" agreed Toris, "She was six! Just six. She left Lyceus at the bottom of the cliff, after we'd gone home, and then she climbed up there and got an egg. I tell you Iolaus, none of us had managed to get more than halfway to that nest before we'd had to give up. On the way down she slipped and would have fallen and broken her neck if she hadn't managed to grab onto some root. She got pretty banged up, though and it took her a lot longer to get down the rest of the way.
"Mother was frantic. No one knew where Xena or Lyceus was, and it was pitch black by the time they got back home. Xena had broken her ankle and Ly had to support her all the way back from the cliffs. But they came in with Xena holding that damn egg, that she'd somehow managed to keep whole, and both had broad grins on their faces."
"I'm the leader now Toris," she said to me, "you gotta do what I say now."
The blue eyes looked up at Iolaus, "Have you any idea how that made me feel, Iolaus?"
His friend shook his head, being an only child did have some compensations attached to it, even if, as a child, he'd been unaware of them. He'd often wished that he'd had little brothers and sisters to play with like the other kids.
"It was amazing that she got the chance to grow up to become who she did. There are so many times I could have cheerfully strangled her, and my friends could have happily killed her as well. The trouble was she was quicker, stronger and far more intelligent than any of us. The only person who could match her was Mother, and she only managed it until Xena was about eleven or so. Up until then Xena's life was full of escapades, childish scraps, running wild and assorted punishments for a myriad of misdemeanours."
He grinned at the thought, "She always took the punishments without a murmur ... even when she hadn't done anything to deserve them. She picked up quite a reputation in Amphipolis. She was a great one for playing practical jokes and she was very inventive with them too. It soon became pretty natural for everyone to blame Xena for everything that happened. It must have driven Mother mad, because she got a litany of complaints about her daughter every day. Mind you, it meant that I had a fairly free ride through life. Mother was so tied up in trying to sort out Xena's disruptions that my occasional misbehaviour barely got sneezed at."
"Your mother must be a strong woman," smiled Iolaus at the thought of her battling wills with the young Xena.
"Where do you think the renowned Warrior Princess gets it from?" Toris asked quirking an eyebrow in a very familiar way.
The companionable silence fell between them once again before Iolaus broke it once more, "What do you think, Toris? We're doing no good here. We can't get near her. What do you say we go back and find the others. If we can help them get Gabrielle free, we might just be able to do something to prise Xena loose."
Toris felt torn. He didn't want to abandon his sister to her enemy, but he could see no way of helping her as things stood. Maybe if they could get the bard free, and let Xena know about it, then it might make the difference. He nodded his head in agreement. It was surely better than doing nothing.
"We'll probably have to go to Rome," put in Iolaus, thinking about it, "Unless Autolycus and Joxer have managed to free her already, otherwise that's where they'll go."
"Have you ever been to Rome?" asked Toris, knowing that the small man was far more widely travelled than he was.
"Nope, but I've heard the women are beautiful." came back the answer with a smile.
- So, - he thought, - the loose ends are falling into place. It's a pity that one of the two wasn't the brother, but we'll snare him and the other one soon. Then, Xena, my sweet, you will be tied to me hand and foot until it's time for you to die. -
With Joxer and Autolycus to share her thoughts with, the nightmares were reduced to their real proportions and were easily shut away into the dark pit in her mind from which they had escaped. She told them all about how Patroclese had managed to deceive both of them. Of the fearful beating that Xena had taken when Caesar had captured her. Of the whipping he had ordered after that first night in his tent when she had claimed the toothpick, and the subsequent fever and the fact that she almost died.
"The man's a monster," she told them quietly, recognising the anger evident in their stiff postures and the white knuckles of their fists, "He sees Xena as his personal plaything, a toy for his amusement."
She hadn't told them about the beating she had received as a consequence of Autolycus's visit to Xena's cell, through the air shaft, in Nemausus, but she did tell them about the brawl in the courtyard, when they were preparing for the move to Arelate, and the punishment dispensed for it. Both men had winced and Joxer had gone very quiet for some while.
"I should never have sent you those letters," she said at the end. "All it's done is get more of my friends into trouble!"
"Gabrielle," said Autolycus sternly, "I can shuck these shackles in a blink of an eye, and that cell door will take me all of about thirty heartbeats to get past. I am not in any kind of trouble here."
"What about the soldiers on the other side of the door?" she asked with something of her old gleam in her eyes.
"Well ..." he said scratching his chin thoughtfully, "they present a little bit more of a challenge," he admitted reluctantly, "But given a little time, I'm sure we'll work our way around them," he grinned impudently at her.
"C'mon Gabby," coaxed Joxer gently, touching her arm tentatively, "Don't give up. Caesar hasn't beaten us yet. We've fought far tougher guys than him, remember? We'll find our way out and we'll work out a way to rescue Xena too."
Gabrielle smiled in spite of herself. Whatever else you could say about Joxer, and there was plenty that could be said (very little of it complimentary) you couldn't fault his loyalty or the courage in his heart. She patted his hand grateful for his optimism and said with as much certainty as she could muster, "Of course we will, Joxer."
Meronius stood at ease before Brutus as he finished his report, "Since the slave has been in the company of the two male prisoners, she has recovered from whatever was ailing her and is certainly fit enough for a sea journey. I would suggest, however, that she be kept in the company of the two men, or we run the risk of seeing her fall into that malaise once more."
The tribune nodded his head considering the words of the medic. It was too soon to hear any word back from Caesar about how he wanted the two new captives disposed of. He did, however, know that his general wanted the bard taken to Rome as quickly as possible, and locked up safe and sound in the private dungeons of his palace, where there would be no chance of anyone getting in to free her.
As for the two men ... Well, he knew that Caesar wanted them to further bind the Warrior Princess into her captivity. The big question was, should he send them off, under heavy escort to Caesar, or should he take them to Rome and hold them in the security of the palace dungeons as well?
The girl was the real key to Caesar's plans and if she should sicken and die, then Brutus was well aware that he would be held accountable. It was essential, therefore, that the bard's health be maintained. He made the decision to take the men, Autolycus and Joxer, with him to Rome. He'd feel safer having them under his hand, anyway, than send them marching up and down Narbonensis to catch up with his commander.
"You've done well Meronius," he said at last, "You can return to your normal duties, but I'd like you to check on the girl's health each day, just to be certain that there are no lapses back into this illness she's been suffering from." He scratched at his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully, before calling after the departing medic and telling him, "Have my scribe sent into me."
"Yes sir," registered Meronius as he left the sparsely furnished office.
Technically, neither man had done anything to be arrested for, although it would not take a lot to fabricate the charges required to hold them. Once in Rome, they would not be able to prove their innocence anyway ... even if they managed to get somewhere close to a magistrate to hear the case. Having powerful friends in Rome was a great advantage, and since there was no one more powerful than Caesar in the city, and since both men were foreigners with no friends in the Empire at all, then their fate was more or less sealed ... depending on exactly what Caesar would want to do with them.
The scribe, a tall man with short curly hair and a slight stoop, hurried into the office and took a seat on a small stool, opening up his wax tablets and checking the nib of his ready stylus. The man always irritated Brutus, but he was good at his work.
"Take down a message for Caesar, Polycrates," the tribune told him, "You can put in all the normal addresses and flourishes when you do the fair copy. The meat of the message is as follows."
The ship they were to board was a Roman bireme. It was about a hundred and twenty feet long and had a double bank of oars on each side of the ship. The ship was narrow with a strong beak shaped ram at the stem and a high, curved and abundantly decorative stern post. There was also a single mast that could support a sail in favourable winds. It was, essentially, a fast manoeuvrable warship that promised a swift passage to Rome.
The only other time that Gabrielle had been in Massilia had been when she and Xena had escorted Verchinex back home. They had said their goodbyes to the Gaul, on this dock, before they spent some few candlemarks in the markets gathering a some luxuries, like fresh fruit, and bread, before reboarding the ship and heading back to Greece.
It had been a time of much turmoil for the bard. She was still suffering the pangs of conscience that denounced her part in the death of Crassus, the Roman who had died in the place of Verchinex. The guilt she had experienced over that decision had cracked the lid on the terrible turmoil, she still suffered through, over most of the things that had happened to her and her warrior companion that year.
Xena had been kind and gentle around her. She had been there to hold the shaking bard when she awoke screaming from her nightmares. The dour, gruff, Warrior Princess had leant her friend the strength of her arms as she tried to sooth away the fears and the terrors. Gabrielle had known that Xena was absorbing the blame for all the pain and suffering the bard had shown. Xena had a capacity for taking the weight of other's sins upon her own shoulders. It worried and shamed the bard when she knew that the Warrior Princess already carried enough guilt for her own past misdeeds to crush twenty strong minded people. Yet still she insisted on taking the blame for more ... even when the guilt clearly belonged to another.
It had been amazing how they had managed to get past that period in their lives and still maintain their friendship. She knew that it was sometimes a little ragged around the edges; there were so many painful issues and memories that they shared, but they had not been enough to sunder the love, respect and friendship of these two firm friends. - It's almost as if the fates have bound us together for a purpose and whatever may come our way will never be strong enough to destroy that bond, - she mused thoughtfully.
They watched as stores were loaded on to the vessel and they passed the time as they waited, speculating about just what Caesar had in mind for Xena. As they talked, Autolycus was watching for the arrival of the rest of the maniple that had escorted them into Massilia. When Brutus arrived, it became pretty obvious that the twenty man guard was all that would be going with them. He wasn't sure how that would help them on the ship, but it was far better odds than they had been faced with previously. He stroked the stubble on his chin with his index finger as he speculated upon the situation.
When all the barrels and bales had been loaded, and Brutus had taken himself and his personal staff on board, the trio of prisoners were escorted up the gangplank .. Joxer and Autolycus stumbling somewhat in their chains, a problem that Gabrielle didn't have (they rarely bothered to chain her) and down to the small, well filled hold of the ship. As the hatch was closed down and bolted on them, they took stock of their surroundings. It was dark, a little damp, and uncomfortable, but they got to stay together, which had to be a bonus.
"You know," gritted out Autolycus with some feeling, "I never really did like boats and since our little underwater adventure that time, I think I've developed a definite hatred of them. Especially when I can't see the horizon."
"What underwater adventure was that?" asked Joxer, brightly, trying to ignore the darkness surrounding them.
"I really don't think you want to hear about it, Joxer," advised Gabrielle projecting her voice towards where she guessed her friend to be settled, "It happened a few moons ago and Xena, Autolycus and I were lucky to get out of it alive. It doesn't make a good tale when you're about to embark on a sea voyage," she assured him.
"Okay," answered Joxer uncertainly, although willing to be guided by the bard, "What about this pit fight that you watched Xena fight?"
Gabrielle squirmed about on the pile of sacks that she was sitting on, before proceeding to give them the edited highlights of what had happened in Arelate and the pit fight against Benidor, "I think," she concluded at the end, "that it's one of his plans for Xena. I think he's going to make her into some form of gladiator. He made a huge amount of money from wagering on that fight, and with Xena's fighting skills he'll make a fortune which he can then use to further his political ends."
"That makes sense," agreed Autolycus, from the darkness off to her left and a little way in front, "Once he gets her to Rome, Xena could make him the city's wealthiest man."
Gabrielle gave a vexed sigh as she thought about it all, "What I can't understand is why Caesar is traipsing all over Narbonensis when all the big prizes and money is in Rome."
Joxer's voice came from the darkness, "We think we've figured that one out, Gab," he told her smugly, "It's got something to do with this Vertical Gaul fella that you and Xena saved."
"Vertical Gaul?" questioned Gabrielle in puzzlement.
"The idiot means Verchinex the Gaul." answered Autolycus sneering at Joxer, "We reckoned that since Xena played such a prominent part in getting him away from Caesar, that it would be like the Roman to use her against him in someway. We haven't worked out what yet, but it seems to be the most logical reason."
"Mmmm, could be," agreed the bard thoughtfully.
They heard the muffled cries from above that told them the ship was ready to cast off and the sound of the side ropes being hauled aboard. Having never been on a galley before, the thud and thump of the rhythmic swinging of the oars took some time to register their meaning, and as the crew headed out to sea they began a chant as they rowed, to help them keep the beat of their task.
Push it back dip it down!
He roamed far across the seas,
Thrust it in, pull it out!
And every port he visited,
Push it back, dip it down!
A willing girl he'd leave,
Thrust it in, pull it out!
He married not a one of them,
Push it back, dip it down!
Though he played a merry chase,
Thrust it in, pull it out!
leaving me with family,
Push it back, dip it down!
From here to furthest Thrace!
Thrust it in, pull it out!
O! My Mother was a working girl,
Push it back, dip it down!
She plied her trade thrice nightly,
. . . . . . . . . .
"Both of you cannot go," she told them with calm patience that was beginning to strain around the edges.
"But, Ephiny ...." began Solari.
"Look, Eph ...." said Eponin at the same time.
The pair glared at each other then switched the looks back the Queen Regent of the Amazon Nation. Ephiny cast her eyes up at the thatched roof of the Queens council chamber and slowly counted to ten before looking back at her Amazon sisters, "Look," she said firmly, "This state visit is going to take a long time. You two are my lieutenants, so you both can't come with the delegation. One of you has to stay here and keep command of the nation, while the other gets to come. This is not a matter for debate. I need one of you here to keep the likes of Tarelle and her clique in order. Dammit!" she cursed angrily, "We can't all go off to Rome."
Solari and Eponin both looked startled by the edginess in Ephiny's tone and demeanor. She had become increasingly worried at receiving no word from Gabrielle upon the outcome of her bid to warn Xena about the trap she was heading into. All of them were! And so, they had come up with the plan of paying a State visit to the Romans where, they reasoned, both of the missing women would eventually turn up. The problem was deciding who got to miss the trip. Ephiny, as Queen Regent , had to go as head of state, but Solari and Eponin had been bickering for three days over which one of them was best suited to accompany her as head of the one hundred warrior contingent that Ephiny intended to take.
"We could make sure that Tarelle and all her cronies came with us to Rome, then we could both go," offered Solari.
Ephiny sighed wearily, "Look, Solari, we know that Tarelle has influence over a good deal more than a hundred of the sisters. Do you really want to go off to Rome on a hunt for Xena and Gabrielle leading a group of Amazon's who are out for their blood?" she asked incredulously.
She drummed her fingers on her table and chewed her lower lip as she thought her way through the situation, "I'll take Tarelle and the rest of the leaders of that particular group with me. Without their following they can't really cause too much trouble, and without their leaders the rest of the bunch shouldn't be a problem either. So that just leaves us to decide which of you two goes and which stays."
Ephiny grimaced as the bickering started again. She held up her hand in a silent demand for peace before she made her decision, "Since you two can't agree, I'll decide for you. Solari," she said turning to the stern, dour faced sister who nodded expectantly, "you'll stay here and run the city and the outlaying villages. Don't scowl at me," rebuked Ephiny, "You're the logical choice in that you've been running the nation's defence and with so many warriors away with me, you are best equipped to handle the problems that may arise from having to reorganise the rosters."
"Gee, I'm sorry that you don't get to come, Solari," grinned Eponin with abject insincerity, "Perhaps next time," she teased.
"Cut it out Eponin," warned Ephiny as she saw Solari's countenance darken even more, "I can always change my mind about this." She stared hard at the Weapons Master until she wiped the grin off of her face. "Now, there's lots of work to do. Solari, can I rely on you to make sure that Tarelle and her bunch are available for this excursion. I don't want her sloping off somewhere when it's time for us to leave."
Solari nodded her agreement, adding, "Off course you can," masking the feral grin that nearly made it to her features at that particular thought. She wasn't at all keen on Tarelle and her little clique, seeing them as a dangerous canker on the Amazon body politic.
"Okay, Eponin," continued the Queen Regent turning to her second lieutenant, "I want you to pick out sixty of the best hardened warriors we have. Fill the rest in with some of the good youngsters who would benefit from the experience, but make sure they're steady. I don't know what we're going to find, or what we might be called on to do, but I want to be ready for any situation. Got it."
She received nods of agreement from both women who scurried off to start their assignments. They had a week to get ready for this. Runners had already been sent off to secure passage on a fast ship out of Acanthus and some of them would proceed on to Rome with the news that the Amazon's were coming on a state visit. Once the Amazon Delegation was assembled they would head as quickly as possible for Rome, and see what could be found out about the Amazon Queen and her Champion.
The bireme took a route that hugged the coast. Apparently there were Carthaginian warships on the prowl out in the more open seas and it made sense for a single ship to stick close to the coastline, where it could put in if threatened. It made the voyage far longer, but was safer.
They had been in the hold for some time, before the hatch was thrown open, bathing the space of their confinement with light. All three of the prisoners had been blinded by the sudden brightness and it took some time to throw the dazzle effect off. An optio ordered them up onto the deck, and they were grateful to get out of the claustrophobic hold and into the daylight.
Now they were at sea, with land showing only as a smudge off the port side of the ship, the trio were allowed to sit, under the watchful eyes of four guards, on the small deck on the ship's prow. With the men in shackles, it was unlikely that they would jump into the sea, but to make certain that his three prisoners stayed put, Brutus had ordered each to be secured with a chain to a deck bolt. None of them cared. It was a pure relief to be out of the dark stuffiness of the hold.
"Besides which," grinned Autolycus happily, "I could open these locks with a fingernail.
They spent the rest of the day up on the deck, Gabrielle entertaining her companions and the soldiers on duty, with tales of adventures, mixed in with love stories, tales of the Gods and of course, Xena. With the weather set fair it was a blissful way to spend the day, but when evening came on, they were once again locked up into the small, cramped hold, while the ship's captain moved his vessel closer to the shore for the night, preferring not to run in darkness.
They spent the next two days in this manner, falling into the peaceful routine of the cruise, but with the knowledge lurking in their minds that they were drawing ever closer to Rome and the problems that awaited them there. It was a depressing thought that none of them particularly wished to discuss with the others, so they spent their time studiously avoiding mention of it.
On the fourth day, they all noticed a change in the swell of the waves. They were just to the south of Pisse, little more than a day's sailing from Rome itself, when the previously friendly sky became ominously black with a speed that promised no good. The area was notorious for the vicious squalls that could blow up out of nothing, but it was weeks past the normal season for such weather and the bireme was caught napping as a serious storm hit them, driving them towards the inhospitable shores of the Italian coast.
As crewmen, joined by all the available manpower including their guards, rushed about lashing down everything that could be secured, and those working on the oars pulled desperately against the driving rage of the squall, Gabrielle, Autolycus and Joxer were temporarily forgotten about. The thief had been watching the way that the ship was being relentlessly driven towards the shore, and he made up his mind that it was time to do something. He had no intention of being chained to a ship as it rammed into some inconveniently placed rocks!
"I think it's time we thought about getting out of here!" he shouted above the howling wind.
Gabrielle nodded her agreement, although Joxer looker at the thief as if he was mad, "Where do ya think we can go?" he yelled incredulously.
"Anywhere we want to once we get free of the soldiers and this boat!" yelled back Autolycus.
With the practised ease of a master craftsmen, he slipped the small pick out of his boot heel and expertly disposed of his, and his two friends, shackles with a moment's concentration. As the wind and rain screamed around them, he drew the others into the limited protection of the ships prow and shouted his plan to them above the roar of the wind.
Gabrielle nodded her agreement. She looked pale and worried, but she was brave and ready to try anything that got her out of Caesar's clutches, so long as it would eventually give Xena a chance to extricate herself from her imprisonment. Joxer shook his head vehemently. He stood up carefully and peeked over the prow of the ship before ducking down again and yelling, "No Way! We wouldn't last a minute!"
It was doubtful that the others heard all of his words as the wind whipped them away with frustrating ease, but they did understand his general sympathies. Gabrielle grabbed his arm and shook it, trying to make him understand that it was their only hope.
He shook his head firmly and clung to the side.
Autolycus pantomimed an execution, letting him know that it was their likely end if they didn't take this chance that they's been offered.
Joxer resolutely shook his head.
Gabrielle looked a plea at the thief. She knew that they had to make the most of this slim chance. She was desperate to! But she hated the thought of going without Joxer. He had, after all, come to help in her rescue and it would hardly be a fair return to abandon him to Caesar and Brutus' mercy.
A grating sound shuddered through the hull of the ship as the vessel scraped along the hidden dangers of a barely submerged rocky outcropping. The mast, already swinging dangerously in the high winds suddenly exploded in half with a shrieking, "CRACK!" that drew all heads in it's direction as the heavy timbers listed and fell, pulling rigging and men over the side with it.
Autolycus shook his head in exasperation over Joxer and bobbed up into the full teeth of the gale to check the ship's progress. They were awfully close to the rocks now, but the mast and canvas that had just gone by the board, was acting as something of a sea anchor and slowing their progress. Which was just as well, because the rowers, on the side that the mast had fallen, were no longer able to continue the unequal struggle against the elements. Many of them had been injured and the screams and cries from the galley pit could be heard above the roar of the sea and wind.
Autolycus knew that they would have to jump soon, to stand any chance of being swept past the approaching rocks. If they got too close, they risked being ground up on them along with the ship. Their chances weren't good, but both he and Gabrielle reckoned that they were better than remaining on the ship, and as Caesar's captives, if they should manage to survive.
He tapped on Joxer's shoulder and pointed at something off to one side of the vessel. Joxer bobbed up beside him, and before he could react, Autolycus tipped him over the railing and into the raging waters below. Grabbing Gabrielle's hand, he helped her on to the deck rail and then joined her by plunging into the swirling water, as the bireme struggled to shear away from the watery grave it was heading for.
Striking out hard, away from the ship to avoid oars and debris, all Gabrielle and Autolycus could hope was that Joxer would have enough sense to do likewise, because they could see no sign of him, and pretty soon, lost sight of each other. The one thing they had in their favour was that the storm was pushing them towards the shore which was less than a quarter of a mile away. So if they could avoid drowning and, or, being dashed to death on the rocks, they stood a good chance of reaching the beach in freedom.