V.
Beyond the black shape of a jutting cliff, the trieme bobbed on its anchor off the Salamis coast. Onboard stood Gabrielle, quite by her lonesome, squinting into the darkness at the barest glint of steel in the moonlight. She imagined Xena moving with her ten-man contingent soundlessly through the silvered trees. They had anchored beyond the barrier reef, a league or so down beach-and down wind-from the glowing fires of Persian camps. Gabrielle had swung a leg over the lip of the ship's railing, ready to lower herself down into the waiting dingy, when Xena seized her arm and pulled her back up.
"Oh no," she said, setting the bard firmly on deck, "I let you come this far against my better judgment."
Surprisingly, Gabrielle had only managed a defiant look, and then the fight went out of her- Xena was right. Her body couldn't take being awake much longer, let alone trying to keep up with seasoned soldiers. Defeated, Gabrielle walked up the few wide steps to the mast-box and sunk down against it, trying to keep herself sheltered from the wind that had picked up. Her mind however, was deeply entrenched in the sweltering heat of opium smoke and summer and of Xena, lost in the haze of youth and violence. Nearly could she smell the perfume of Persian Queens and the fragrant gardens, run the textured silks through her fingertips and puzzle over the strange caressing sounds of those foreign tongues.
Suddenly, she felt a low thud on the side of the trieme; it jarred the deck planks beneath her. Using her staff for support, Gabrielle propped herself up into a standing position. Maybe Xena ran into trouble and had to cut the mission short, she thought. Hobbling over to steerboard, Gabrielle leaned over the side. She glanced down into an empty dingy floating in the black waters which cut against the hull. Gabrielle felt a wave of nausea become that of fear.
She had only the thud of a boot on wood to react. Ducking, the blade of a sword passed mere inches above her head. With a low whirl, Gabrielle managed to swing her staff out and catch the attacker in the shin. Righting herself, she got a better look at whom she was dealing with. The moment she caught the soldier's face, however, those dark Persian eyes took in the bandages on her foot and her shoulder. Knowing her weakness, the warrior parried a blow from her staff and managed to smack the flat of his blade over Gabrielle's arrow wound. With an agonizing scream, Gabrielle dropped to the ground, her staff kicked from her hand soon after. She didn't even see the second warrior mount the side of the ship, and all she knew was blackness thereafter.
"Pull the anchor," said one warrior to the other.
All was silence in the thick, dark jungle. Beside a cypress bent over like an arthritic man, Xena paused and put a hand in the air to signal a halt. Behind her, the Athenian soldiers stopped and crouched low in the underbrush. Through the trees, only a single fire was visible. Odd, thought Xena: From the shore, there looked to be at least a dozen burning deeper inland. Something wasn't right-she felt it like a metallic ache low in her stomach. Standing slowly to her full height, she crooked a finger in Ocnus Nilos' direction; the lieutenant general made his way swiftly to her side.
"General?" he whispered.
"Something's amiss," she breathed, "I don't want to risk leading these men into an ambush. Take them back around the cove, back to the ship. Wait for me there."
Ocnus Nilos looked aghast, "And you?"
"I'm going in," the Warrior Princess replied, her eyes deadlocked on that single fire in the distance.
A frown passed over the lieutenant general's gruff features. "But…" he began.
"Do as I say," said Xena and took off through the trees.
Disturbing nary a leaf on the forest floor, Xena made her way closer to the tent she could see illumined by the fire. She could hear the faint sounds of her men retreating. As she reached the back flap of the command tent, however, a piercing battlecry echoed hauntingly from the trees. Persian warriors seemed to pour out of the shadows and charged in the direction of her retreating contingent.
"Hades!" Xena hissed. She pounced from her cover and slid her sword cleanly through the closest warrior's chest.
In the chaotic moments that followed, Xena battled her way through tens of Persians, feeling like she was repeating the vicious cycle of her sins. How could this have gone so wrong? How did Tetram know they were leading an exploratory mission? The bodies passed before her in a red haze; she fought with fury and something of her old rage threatened to take hold. But something held her fast from blood oblivion: She had to get back to the ship; she had to get back to Gabrielle.
When Xena broke through the vines onto the sand of the beach, what greeted her were cove waters, empty of any ship or living soul. The three men that had made it to the shore all lay crumpled in awkward, splayed positions, blood pooling beneath them onto the sand. Xena hurried to their side to see if she could help them; upon turning over the third man, Ocnus Nilos' blank expression dispersed all her hopes. The Warrior Princess' hand curled into a fist, white knuckles bared: the ship, Gabrielle. She scanned the length of the short beach, hoping that whoever unanchored the trieme hadn't thrown the bard overboard. Seeing nothing, Xena hurried over to a copse of thick overgrowth and trees; she felt around in the darkness and eventually contacted the unyielding shape of the dingy that she and the soldiers had hidden earlier. Feeling reassured by a means of escape, Xena set off back toward the encampment, sure to keep her steps unheard. As Xena ghosted through the trees, her memories seemed as webs caught between the foliage, coating her in tenacious threads that wove pattern about her.
Xena crept through the Byzantine palace, feeling the blood turned to wine as it moved sluggishly through her veins. She had abandoned Rasmus earlier when she spied Artemesia leave the hall. Following soundlessly, Xena kept a good distance away, always keeping her eyes fixed steadily on the embroidered plum silk that trailed in the wake of the Queen's long strides.
When Artemisia reached her quarters, she paused before the antechamber; Xena only had a split second to duck behind a pillar when the Queen turned to look briefly behind her.
"Yazmin," Artemisia called softly. It was only a moment until the servant appeared at the threshold and bowed before her mistress. "Please, I bid you take Ndila and disappear for the evening; I wish to be alone."
"Isha," said Yazmin and promptly scurried away down the hall, Ndila quickly following suit.
Artemesia continued on through the antechamber and Xena felt it safe to go in after her. The warrior had no plans to reveal herself, or harm the Queen this night, for the palace was teeming with guests and guards. Her purpose was merely to observe, to catalogue routine, to find out what she required in a servant so that she may be bought from Rasmus- and beside, the exoticism of this woman excited her.
Keeping low and close to the curvature of the turquoise egg tempera walls, Xena watched as Artemesia unfastened the clasp on her fine silk hijab. The warrior's suspicions were confirmed: beneath that facial shroud existed a set of quite striking features. Artemesia possessed not a severe, but graceful curve to her temple and jaw; her nose protruded in a steno-arc that gave proportion to the largeness of her dark eyes; her mouth was full and curved downward at the edges, her lips dark. She un-tucked the sari from her gilded belt and let fall her cloak along the back of a divan. Moving now to her closet, the Queen selected an old worn sea-faring cloak and draped it over her shoulders instead. She then settled by the fire.
Spotting a hanging tapestry in the corner, Xena crept silently toward it, thinking it would give her the perfect vantage and cover. And yet, as she crept, Artemesia's low voice steadily sounded in the quiet hollow rooms.
"Isha Aada," she called.
Xena paused, suspended ridiculously on all fours in the middle of the floor, unsure what she should do: Stand and fight or continue this charade? Disgusted by her own inaction, Xena stood slowly and gripped the handle of her dirk at her hip.
Artemesia kept her back turned, merely watching the flames dance in the hearth and the incense smoke on the mantel spiral into the air- a dangerous move for a woman who believed she had a spy in her midst.
"Come around," Artemesia commanded gently in Greek. Strangely, Xena obliged, circling the divan. The Queen lounged back into the plush velvet cushions and let her eyes drift languorously from the warrior's boots, to the part in her servant's cloak where the skin of her thigh showed beneath a piece of her battledress; finally, they settled on Xena's face. The Queen took a deep breath. "A warrior. I was right."
Xena merely remained silent, her attention riveted to Artemesia.
"Are you an assassin?" she asked.
Xena shook her head, "No."
"Hmm," Artemesia touched the tip of her finger to her chin, "then sit beside me and relax, my beautiful murderess."
Xena did not move. "How did you know?"
A devious smile worked its way onto the Queen's face. "Simple cunning."
"Just tell me."
"Prince Kara-Indash and I grew up together; we are cousins," she relented.
Both of Xena's eyebrows worked their way up. "Then why did you…?"
"Why did I not scream? Call for Xerxes' guard?" she paused, seemed to consider her words more wisely, "I wanted to know you, beyond the confines of a dungeon".
"I suppose a thanks are in order," Xena spit, advancing some. Artemesia subtly recoiled, failing to maintain her easy composure.
"Tell me, warrior, what do they call you?"
"And why in Hades would I tell you my name?"
Artemesia stood to her feet, sure to keep her movements slow, and took a few steps forward, disappearing entirely the space between them. Her dark eyes sought out the translucence in Xena's, drawling them in and drowning them in a muddied kind of seduction. The Queen of Caria reached out and traced the curve of Xena's jaw; she leaned in, put her lips to the warrior's ear and whispered, "So I shall know what to call out".
Forgetting her knife, Xena's hand reached blindly out and grasped the material of Artemesia's cloak. Dragging the woman closer, she bared her teeth, and moved in to the fair olive skin of the Queen's neck; she did not bite however, merely traced her lips over a beating, warm vein.
"Please, I am no warrior," said Artemesia in that breathy, low voice. "I cannot defend myself."
Xena pulled back slightly, "You are a naval captain."
"A strategist, only. And I know about the winds."
The young warrior narrowed her eyes, and stepped away entirely; she stalked around the divan and leaned her forearms against its back. Artemesia put her knees on the couch and leaned toward Xena.
"Who are you? What have you done with the Prince?" she asked.
"He's dead," answered Xena simply, "and his whore too."
Artemesia merely held Xena's stare; she did not even venture close to tears. "Good," she said, "he was after my throne, anyway."
Taken aback, Xena pursed her lips. "It seems then, that you owe me," she replied.
"Ah, not if you have plans to kill me," said Artemesia, a smirk on her face, "Do not take me as a fool, warrior, I know the Greeks have a bounty on my head. I sunk an Athenian warship at Euboea."
Xena refused to show her surprise. "Very good," she said instead.
"So you need money, do you warrior? How much?" asked the Queen, "Was it a thousand dinari, the impoverished Greeks promised?"
Xena grit her teeth, "Something like that."
"A grain of sand in a desert. I'll see that it is given to you, for your services with my cousin."
With that, Artemesia rose from the couch and wrapped her cloak more tightly around her. Xena was at a loss for words and merely watched as the confounding Queen went to the hearth and threw a few logs onto the fire. "Go now," she said, her back turned, "I tire of defending my life."
Feeling outsmarted and belittled, Xena turned with a huff and marched toward the antechamber. Before she disappeared, however, Artemesia called to her.
"You may stay in my cousin's royal chambers for this evening, but tomorrow you must send your man away. Meet me when the sun is gone beneath the archway in the east gardens."
Xena did not say a word, merely left as silently as she entered.
Xena sat on the bed, watching as Rasmus paced the length of the oriental carpet runner; between her thighs was pressed the hilt of her sword as she kept it steady while she ran the whetstone across its blade.
"I can't believe it!" he exclaimed, "you must be a demon in the sack."
"Wouldn't you like to know," said Xena, giving him a sidelong look.
"So we wake and collect from the Queen and be on our way by mid-meal."
"Yes, you will."
"And…" Rasmus paused, "wait, me? You are not coming?"
"The Queen has requested I send you away," said Xena in a mock-highbrow affectation.
"Since when do you take orders?" asked Rasmus, incredulously, "From anyone?"
"I am not taking orders," Xena bit, standing from the bed.
Rasmus raised his thick eyebrows, "Oh no?"
"No. I'm trying to secure us a fortune without bringing the entire Persian Empire down on our heads," the Warrior Princess exclaimed.
Rasmus chuckled. "If you had a cock, I'd say the Queen of Caria had it firmly in hand."
Xena threw a punch that landed solidly against Rasmus' cheek, splitting the skin over the bone. Rasmus stumbled back and looked angrily at his warlord.
"You've done no more than call me a whore, Rasmus," Xena growled, "men have died for less."
"Aye, who do you think has been travelling with you all these seasons?"
Xena sneered, but the aggression in her eyes disappeared. "You're loyal, Ras; I value that. Please, go back to Cyr and the men, deliver the gold and wait for me at Hellesport. I won't be more than a few days behind you."
"That is your decision?"
"Yes. I shall stay."
Back now at the encampment, Xena watched from a high branch in a pine at the commotion going on below. Men filtered through the trees, stowing their weapons, well-satisfied by overwhelming and murdering ten Greek soldiers. And yet, Xena's eyes took in none of their smiles for she was busy looking for blonde hair and light features among the darker tones of the army. And then, as if by divinity alone, Xena spotted two men carrying a body over their shoulders, the person's features obscured by a blindfold. But, Xena knew that body, knew that skirt and that top and that hair; she nearly dove from the tree into the middle of camp.
"Gabrielle," she mouthed. When the captors drew closer, she could see that the bard was squirming in their arms. Relief like a wave washed over Xena: Gabrielle was alive. But those bastards hurt her, she could tell; no way Gabrielle would have gone without a fight. She watched as they carried her to the command tent and disappeared inside. Xena dropped soundlessly from the tree and crawled toward the tent.
Once at the back flap, she withdrew her knife and cut a small square hole in the canvas material. Through the peephole, Xena saw the back of a large man seated on a cushion; he was clothed in the fur of a wolf, his crown forged of thick precious metal and encrusted with sapphires. This man, Xena considered, must be Tetram the Great: Conqueror of Caria, Halicarnassus, the Silonians and the Tyreans. This was Artemesia's son.
"…I have no time for distractions!" Tetram boomed in his mother tongue. Xena extended her vision and saw that they had forced Gabrielle to kneel on the floor before him.
"Apologies, my Shah," said one man, gruffly, "we found her aboard the Greek ship, perhaps she might have information."
"She's no warrior," replied Tetram, waving his hand dismissively, "kill her."
Xena drew a sharp breath, positioning her blade to cut through the canvas.
"Wait!" said Gabrielle, when the warriors grabbed her arms again, "I know the woman you seek."
Tetram looked up from the map he was studying. "The Warrior Princess," he pronounced the title like a curse.
"Yes. Xena is my friend," answered Gabrielle, "and if you lay a hand on me, she'll hunt you like a dog."
Xena nearly chuckled along with Tetram at the fierceness in the bard's voice.
"A friend?" said Tetram in Greek, standing from his cushion, "Nay, the Warrior Princess has no friends, only those to command and warm the bed."
"I know that you think that, but Xena has changed. And I know for a fact, she feels such guilt for the pain she has caused your people, your mother."
Tetram growled and rolled the map up, discarding it on the ground. "My mother," he rounded on the bard, "What do you know of it, huh?"
"Queen Artemesia was a great woman-" began Gabrielle.
"Yes, a great leader, but weak of heart. She let that Warrior Bitch seduce her, let her commandeer her power and give up the wars!"
Xena felt a thrill of anxiety start low in her gut: she wished she had told Gabrielle the whole story, so that her friend would be equipped to curb Tetram's rage. But, more than ever, she wished she had never let Gabrielle come in the first place. There was no way Xena could charge in there and grab Gabrielle; they would never make it out of the camp.
"What Xena did to your mother is inexcusable," said Gabrielle, chancing to stand shakily to her feet. Talking was her greatest asset in situations such as these and so talk she would. "I'm sure your anger is consuming and justifiable. But, waging a careless war on Greece is no solution."
"You are not the lame slave I took you for," replied Tetram, ignoring the bard's reasoning.
"I am no slave; I'm a bard."
At that, Tetram emitted a loud bark of laughter. "A bard!" he exclaimed, "you mean to tell me that Xena, Destroy of Nations, lets a bard travel with her army?"
"Xena doesn't have an army, those were Athenian soldiers, servants of the Greek nation. Xena is merely filling in as a general."
"My horse's ass, Ocnus Nilos commands under King Leonidas."
"The King has asked that Xena head the army, for she has the experience with…" Gabrielle trailed off, "well, with your people."
"Because she slaughtered us and stole half the treasury!" Tetram yelled.
Gabrielle barely let the surprise show on her face. "Yes," she stalled, "but Xena is not after any kind of glory. She merely wants to avoid senseless death. Go home, Tetram, live long and prosper, raise your children."
"I have no children! I refuse to marry, love merely steals through the night and takes you for its slave."
"Is that what you think?" asked Gabrielle, sincere heartbreak in her voice. "Why is that?"
That's right, Gabrielle, thought Xena, keep him talking.
"Leave us," said Tetram to the two warriors, "Xena is on this island somewhere-chances are she is close by. Find her, bring her to me. Alive."
Xena's eyes widened; she had to get out of there and fast.
Hold on, Gabrielle, I'll get us out of this.