This one's a little shorter, but the story should start moving along now. As always, thanks for reading.
Chapter Four: A Familiar Face
"Hey, wake up."
Gabrielle recoiled from a hard nudge to her arm, curling it defensively against her chest. She muttered something incoherent, and then pressed her face more snuggly into the pallet.
"Come on," urged the voice. "Time to work."
A soft cotton bundle landed on her head. She pulled it free from her tousled hair, and grudgingly lifted her head. "What's this?"
"Clothes," answered the scullion, apparently not one to waste words.
"It's still dark," Gabrielle observed. The chamber's only window was set high on the wall, but barely an outline could be seen of it, so dark was the night beyond. The other three pallets were already empty, and Gabrielle was the last to wake. Embarrassed, she surged to her feet and began stripping off her rumpled clothes.
"Soldiers wake up at dawn," came the impatient reply, "and they like their breakfast hot."
"We have to cook for the entire keep?"
"Barracks included. But if Kora's wise, she won't let you anywhere near the porridge. I bet you'd burn it all to char, if given the chance. I'm supposed to look after you today, make sure you don't ruin anything."
What refreshing optimism, Gabrielle thought dryly, struggling into the new skirt and pulling the ties tight about her waist. "It's Eris, isn't it?"
The girl nodded curtly. "No need to give your name. Kora's already told me." Eris was slightly shorter than Gabrielle and very spare, with narrow hips and a thin, bony face. There was an almost childlike sharpness in her eyes, but the rest of her features seemed weary and stretched, and her flat mouth incapable of mirth. She could have been any age.
Within a moment, Gabrielle was dressed. "Come on, then." Eris beckoned, and strode out of the room. The hall was long, and lined on both sides by small chambers, each of which housed four servants. Gabrielle later learned that the tenured workers received wages, while the remaining need was filled by purchased slaves. They were boarded with others of their status, and a guard kept watch over the slave quarters at the furthest end of the hall. It was from one of these rooms that Gabrielle now emerged, shaking off her slumber. Eris led her to the laundry, where she was left under the charge of the old maid who labored there.
Almost immediately, the woman took her hands and examined them, turning them over and rubbing them with her own calloused fingers. "Soft," she commented, with a hint of longing. "Smooth. But not for long, not if you're working here. I'll show you what to do."
The morning's work was to wash a batch of soldiers' liveries. It was painfully dull, but simple enough: a good soaking, a thorough scrub, and then off to the drying rack. After the midday meal, Gabrielle was charged with the task of delivering them back to the barracks. She trudged across the yard with the heaping basket, hardly able to see where she was going, her arms quavering with the effort. On her way out of the compound, however, she almost wished she still had the clothes to hide behind. The looks she garnered from the soldiers were far more than merely admiring, and she exited at a near trot in her haste to evade them.
The rest of the afternoon was spent hauling water and washing dishes. The back-and-forth treks from the well were tiring, and Gabrielle's back and shoulders began to ache from the strain of the heavy buckets. Every time she paused to rest, Eris appeared seemingly out of nowhere, with a disapproving frown and an impatient glare. To Gabrielle, it seemed that she had been apportioned an unfair number of tasks; apparently, it was the way of things to break in the new workers with excess rather than mercy. Finally, as the kitchen was cleared for the night and the rest of the servants trooped back to their quarters, Gabrielle was handed a tray and her final instructions.
"Bring this to the Conqueror," Eris instructed. "She takes her meals late. After that, you're dismissed."
Of course, Gabrielle thought with a sigh, a fitting end to a terrible day. Under the stern gaze of the scullion, she took the tray and retreated from the kitchen, heading for the stairs.
How different she felt now than the first time she'd gone to the Conqueror bearing food. She had been much weaker then, following her stay in the prison—not just from lack of nourishment, but also from the deterioration of her will. All she could focus on was gaining a reprieve from the loneliness and the dark, and her mind had been bent easily. This time, she was determined not to capitulate to whatever psychological trap the Conqueror might steer her into. She marched past the guards with her jaw set and her head held high.
The Conqueror was at her desk with a parchment unfurled in front of her. She seemed not to notice Gabrielle's entrance, and remained bent over the surface, writing in a neat, elegant script. Gabrielle set the tray down, and then stood uncertainly as she had before. This time, however, she would not kneel. For a long moment the only sound was the gentle scratch of the quill. Without pausing in her work, Xena spoke. "I'm sure you'd love to know what's on this parchment," she said mildly, "but you'll need a more subtle method of reconnaissance than stealing glances right under my nose."
Gabrielle's face flushed with indignation. "I wasn't reading it."
"Well, you'll forgive me for not trusting the word of a convicted criminal."
"Do you always just assume the worst about people?" Gabrielle snapped in response, furious at being branded with the same label as some common thief. Having opinions wasn't a crime, and sharing them shouldn't be, either.
Xena stopped, and glanced up with the barest hint of a smile. "Call me a cynic." When Gabrielle failed to respond, she waggled her fingers dismissively in the direction of the door.
With her cheeks still burning, Gabrielle stalked off down the hall. She supposed she ought to be grateful that the Conqueror didn't have her punished for insolence, or for being argumentative, or some other stupid reason. She'd never met anyone so frustrating in her life. It wasn't easy to look past the horrible things Xena had done, but Gabrielle had seen a glimmer of humanity in her, while they were away. Every time she tried to establish some civility between them, the Conqueror ripped it apart with a sharp comment. She was just so… so insufferably pompous!
Fuming, Gabrielle was caught unaware as someone snatched a handful of her blouse, dragging her into a niche in the wall behind a heavy tapestry. The palm over her mouth muffled her cry of distress, and she stomped hard on the foot of her captor, struggling to break free.
"Ow! Would you just… Gabrielle, stop! It's me!"
Her eyes went wide at the sound of the voice. It was one she hadn't heard in a year or more, and yet she recognized it instantly. She stopped trying to break the hold, and the grip on her arms slackened.
"Perdicus?" Her tone was uncertain, for she could see nothing. Two large, rough hands found hers in the darkness, and lifted them to rest upon a warm face. She felt gingerly, noting the round curve of his cheeks and the prominence of his brow. "It is you!" She threw her arms around him and pulled herself close, grateful beyond measure for a familiar face. Perdicus was a childhood friend; they'd grown up together in Potidaea, and their parents had once entertained the idea of a betrothal. The crop failure had rendered those plans impossible, and Gabrielle hadn't had any word from him since he left the village to seek better fortunes.
"Shh, not so loud," he cautioned, returning her embrace.
"I'm so glad to see you," Gabrielle breathed, laying her cheek against the smooth surface of his leather cuirass. "But what are you doing here?"
"I saw you this morning, taking laundry to the barracks. I almost shouted your name… what a fool I am. As soon as I saw you, I had to find you."
"But what are you doing here? In the Conqueror's keep?"
Her question was met with uncomfortable silence. Gabrielle pulled away. Frowning, she traced her fingers over the front of his uniform. "You've joined the army," she concluded sadly.
"Yes," Perdicus confirmed with a sigh. "I hardly had a choice, Gabrielle. I looked into apprenticing with a blacksmith, but there wouldn't have been any money to send home. Here I have a bunk, good meals, and steady wages. I send half of everything I earn back to my father, and I'm stationed here with the guard, so it's not as dangerous as it seems."
"I guess I never imagined you as a soldier." In truth, she never imagined him as anything other than a farm hand. Clearly, life had a way of changing people, and dashing expectations. Gabrielle had always thought she would travel one day, but never foresaw the road leading here, to Pella. Maybe it was the same for Perdicus.
"Neither did I," he admitted. "But this is the best place for me now. You, on the other hand…" His fingers brushed the softness of her cheek. "You don't belong here, and I'm going to get you out."
"How? There's a guard next to my door at night, and a patrol on the walls. Even if I get out of the keep, I'll be shot in the back before I've run ten paces."
"I'll figure something out, I just need time," Perdicus assured her.
"If it goes wrong, and they find out you've been helping me, they'll kill you."
"They won't find out. Do you remember that time at the spring festival when you wanted one of those honey cakes, and neither of us had any dinars?
"I remember that the vendor caught you trying to steal one." Gabrielle smiled at the memory, momentarily taken by nostalgia. "He hit you so hard with that broomstick, you couldn't sit comfortably for days. You were never very good at being devious."
"No, I wasn't, and I knew it; but I risked it anyway, because it was worth it just to see the smile on your face. I'm a lot smarter now than I was then, and a lot more resourceful. I can get you out, Gabrielle. I just need you to have faith in me."
Perdicus spoke so earnestly that she couldn't help but be moved by his words. "It seems I'm making a habit of endangering my friends," she said softly.
"I'd do it even if you said no."
"I know you would." Gabrielle smiled sadly. "But that won't ease my guilt if you get caught."
"Have faith," he repeated. With a sigh of unease, Gabrielle consented. She pressed close to Perdicus again, and he placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead. "I'll get you out. I promise. Go now." He lifted the edge of the tapestry and checked the corridor. Satisfied that it was empty, he gave Gabrielle a gentle shove. "Go on. I'll find you again in a few days time." She pattered down the hall with soft footsteps, feeling considerably lighter than she had that morning.
