Xena Meets Brigadier Gerard

by Phineas Redux

Xena and Gabrielle are sent, by a close associate, to the early 19th century in Portugal where they become involved in the adventures of a renowned French cavalry-officer.

'Xena Meets Brigadier Gerard'

By Phineas Redux

—OOO—

Summary:— Xena and Gabrielle are sent, by a close associate, to the early 19th century in Portugal where they become involved in the adventures of a renowned French cavalry-officer.

Notes:— 01 Everyone talks in their native language, which I have transliterated into English simply for reasons of clarity. How Xena and Gabrielle come to be experts in these languages is, of course, left wholly to the imagination.

02, General Arthur Wellesley—the future Duke of Wellington.

03, There is some light swearing in this tale.

Disclaimers:— 01. Brigadier Gerard is a character in a series of short stories by Arthur Conan Doyle; his main characteristic being his ludicrous self-assurance.

02. MCA/Universal/RenPics, or whoever, own all copyrights to everything related to 'Xena: Warrior Princess' and I have no rights to them.

—O—

"Tell me again why we're here, somewhere in Hispania?"

"Because Ares says it's important we get this thing sorted out, is why, dearest."

"Why believe anything that ape says, all of a sudden?"

Gabrielle sighed, talking with her partner always having its trying moments.

"Xena, try hard, will ya! We're here on a mission t'change History, into the right direction or course, even if so asked by Ares. He does have some good qualities, sometimes, y'know."

"First I've heard!" The Warrior Princess determined not to admit same at any cost. "Where exactly are we, by the way?"

"Somewhere around the northern border of what we know as Lusitania, but the natives here in this time now call something else—Portugalia, or something like. Anyway, here we are, so let's get on with it." Gabrielle taking command efficiently. "D'ya think we stand out any, amongst the natives, dear?"

Xena cast a glance at the few peasants wandering around the small farm they were presently standing beside—none of whom seemed pleased to see the visitors.

"Think perhaps, yeah! The women are all wearin' long skirts, an' covered well elsewhere. Think we're some out'ta season style-wise. An' why don't they oppose us more, style an' dress? They must see we're foreigners. Very far foreigners!"

Gabrielle sighed, educating a Warrior Princess always being an uphill grind especially when one was busy with other affairs.

"We're under Ares' protection while here, if you must know. Anyone who comes within our aura is put under a spell which negates their usual nugatory or contradictory natures. In other words, they don't criticise us because they are stopped, at least for a short while, from understanding the differences we bring with us."

"So what happens when they're no longer in sight of us?"

"It wears off, but by that time we'll be long gone an' they'll hardly remember, or worry overmuch about it."

"Hmmph! Sounds dubious t'me; lot'ta effort on Ares' part!"

Gabrielle sniffed unconcernedly.

"Can't be helped; let's go."

"Where?"

"Over to that group of officers, gaudily dressed. One of 'em's Brigadier Gerard, don't know which, but what are questions for? An' who's best at askin' 'em?"

"Gods!" Xena already foreseeing difficulties in her day, but unable to stop the force of nature that was her sidekick and lover, the Queen of the Northern Amazons.

Apart from the officers there were scores of ordinary soldiers moving around in groups intent on matters unknown to the visitors but clearly of a military nature.

"Jus' so I know what's what," Xena putting out a restraining hand on the small blonde's shoulder. "Where are we exactly, at the moment, an' why. Just so I'm clear, baby."

Gabrielle sighed again, but stopped anyway.

"Listen carefully, dear, it's like this—Ares told us this time is somewhere called Eighteen oh-nine, in northern Hispania. What that means I have no idea, but apparently it's many centuries ahead of our own time. Got that?"

"Think so!"

Gabrielle continued, like the brave warrior she was.

"So, here—this being Porto in northern Hispania, to be exact; there's goin' t'be a major battle here soon between the Spanish, the Britons, and the Gauls. Brigadier Gerard is on the side of the Gauls. He's gon'na, at some point, meet, fight, and kill someone called General Wellesley, which Ares says mustn't be allowed to happen, for reasons too complicated for us mere women to understand—"

"Moron!"

"What?"

"Ares!"

"Oh—anyway, where was I?"

"Talkin' about a moron!"

"You're no help, y'know, dear." Gabrielle battling against a hostile audience but showing great bravery in doing so. "We're tasked with hindering this Brigadier Gerard, stopping him from wreaking, probably well deserved, vengeance on this Wellesley character; come what may and at all costs; so, no pressure there then."

"Idiot!"

"Still not helping!" Gabrielle taking no note of her partner's negative attitude. "So, which of that bunch over there's the Brigadier, I wonder?"

"What the dam's a Brigadier?"

Gabrielle sighed sadly.

"Some kind of rank—like a Centurion, or meb'be slightly higher; a Tribune or Legate, perhaps. Someone in command of a bunch of soldiers, or mounted troops, at any rate. They all seem t'be wearing different uniforms, though."

This was indeed the case; as the women walked across the smooth greensward they passed a soldier leading his mount, he wearing a green jacket with a row of brightly polished silver buttons, trousers of the same shade, a wide red leather belt supporing his long sword, boots with long silver spurs jingling with each stride he took, face partially obscured by a wide thick moustache with pointed waxed ends. To their left a haughty rider passed by looking like a giant on horseback, his grey uniform bedazzled with bright metalwork shining in the sunlight, sword clashing at his saddle's side as his mount trotted on. Further on came a gorgeous mounted spectacle with bright red trousers sporting a silver stripe down their edges with a dark blue jacket above, tall blue circular hat with a short feather clipped at its side finishing the ensemble.

Just as they reached the group of officers in close consultation Xena and Gabrielle paused to inspect another mounted Hussar clothed in white trousers and shirt, the whole covered by a longcoat of mid-blue, his helmet a work of art in itself, having a deep silver metal eye-protector concealing his forehead, wide metal strap across its front above, the body of the helmet a bronze gold colour with a tall thin curved metal peak like a shark's fin; attached to the edge of the helmet both a thick flourish of long black horse-hair fell down the rider's back while a tall bundle of starched red feathers rose vertically into the sky above his head from the same clasp. Onwards, as a further trio of riders galloped by without paying much attention to civilian or other pedestrians in their way, a quick glimpse having to suffice, the women noted hats of a peculiar tall tubular appearance, apparently made of black bearskin and looking extremely heavy and close-fitting.

Xena glanced around, pinpointing a single soldier who happened to be standing to one side, pretending not to be slyly examining the two strangely dressed women.

"Oi, you!"

"May I be of assistance, lady?" He stepping closer, raising one hand to caress a wide moustache with the fingers of his left hand, eyeing both women in what could only be described as an impertinent manner. "The camp followers are usually found well to the rear when fighting is imminent. Are those swords for display, may I ask? You surely do not mean to offer your services in that line! For a start you are not, ah, dressed for the part. Armour, ladies, armour!"

He himself was wearing an impressive steel chestplate of a shining silver radiance along with steel reinforced gauntlets; his helmet also shining in the sun reflected from its rounded steel exterior. Heavy knee-length boots and a large sword swinging at his waistbelt all contributing to the very epitome of what was obviously a fighting soldier of the times.

"We're lookin' for Brigadier Gerard, any notion of who that is?" Xena, naturally, remaining unaffected by the young man's efforts to impress.

The soldier's ego deflated in full view of the women at this cold dismissal to his attentions. Sighing sadly he turned to the distant group of officers standing together, pointing towards them with a raised arm.

"You see those officers? You do, of course, amongst them immediately recognise the most important, the most impressive, the greatest in military skill, he who has gained most renown throughout the course of this present extended campaign; and sadly, of course, the most handsome! It is he! I bid you good-day, ladies!"

Turning to walk off, with an arrogant swagger, he was stopped in his tracks by Xena's restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, sonny, hold hard! That's no help whatever! Who the dam' are ya talkin' about? Which one of those bums is it, then? Be specific!"

Having raised a preliminary hand to dislodge the hand grasping his shoulder the soldier took a moment to glance at his attacker; looking into her deep blue cold eyes he suddenly saw sense and, instead of retaliating, took the wise course.

"—er, the young man with the impressive moustache, blue cuirassiers' uniform, and who is holding forth with the others his abject audience. With the long curled black hair, square jaw, and expression of, if not quite outright arrogance, at least determination."

Still the Princess wasn't satisfied.

"Cuirassier's uniform? Which one's that, then?"

"What does the term mean, anyway?" Gabrielle always curious about these things.

"The man with the shining steel breastplate, like my own." The soldier doing his best to comply. "That's a cuirass. Over there, ladies, you find the Grenadiers, while to your right are a body of Lancers, while those in the far distance—yes, over there—are Dragoons."

"Thanks."

"I am most pleased to have been of assistance, I assure you."

Xena, as they walked across the few yards of open greensward towards the group of officers standing together, took note of the details. Their quarry was young, but not intolerably so; around thirty years of age. Dressed in leggings and jerkin of sky-blue material; this same, under his impressive breastplate and so unseen by the watching women, hosting a vertical line of gold braided knots, the whole topped by a tall shako helmet with a white feathered crest. He was extremely handsome in a square-jawed way, holding himself with a perfectly conscious realisation of his own worth—swaggering while standing still, you might say,—the metal ferrule of his long sword's scabbard scraping on the ground as if intentionally. A strong straight chin held naturally high with a large dark moustache adding just that tone of superiority which finishes the best portrait.

As Xena and Gabrielle strode up, dressed in their usual manner, short skirts with a great deal of other bare skin on display, the men turned to look at them, at first with expressions ranging from whole-hearted approval, through curiosity, to outright disgust. Then, as if by magic, these all changed to expressions of the mildest acceptance, as if the sight of such unaccustomed attire was a thing of no moment to them. Greeting the new arrivals with a flourish, clearly long practiced, the young officer grinned widely.

"Ladies, Brigadier Etienne Gerard is at your service. What may I do for you both?"

The very tone in which he made this request showed clearly that he thought a great deal of himself, especially when in conjunction with a pretty woman, or two for that matter. This, of course, niggling both womens' natures as by duty bound. Gabrielle prepared to let it pass, the Princess however, not.

"Think a lot of—"

"We have documents from General LaSalle, Brigadier!" The Amazon breaking in here to prevent the surrounding, already international conflict, from gaining at least one more country to engage in the fight. "He gives us authority and orders to join your force and accompany you around Oporto and the conflict going forward in that vicinity—Xena!"

Caught on the wrong foot, as so many times before by her partner, the Princess sighed and dove a hand into the shoulder pouch hanging on her left side.

"Here! Read the dam' thing, if ya must!"

Two minutes later, having read his General's instructions, Gerard swaggered even more so than previously; his chin raising higher, his sword scabbard scraping on the dusty ground even more annoyingly, a hand going up to twirl the end of his moustache in a gesture which had, indeed, swayed the hearts of countless young ladies from France and throughout most of the rest of Europe so far. His tone, as he replied, becoming almost impossibly self-satisfied.

"Hah! LaSalle was always one who could tell the worth of a woman on sight! I see he has not lost his capacity to do so! May I be so bold as to—"

"Brigadier!" Gabrielle, noting the changing expression on her partner's features, stepping forward to prevent bloody murder on the spot. "Perhaps we can talk in private somewhere? Details, from Paris, to communicate with you, if you understand?"

"Ah, but of course!" Gerard bowing rather too flamboyantly, going well beyond the mere ordinary requirements of social etiquette. "Follow me, ladies; I have a private room in the Inn where we can, er, talk at our leisure. This way."

—O—

The room was actually a salon taken over by the capable Brigadier as his own on first arriving there the day previously. He, being the Commanding Officer of the famous Third Hussars of Conflans, having such authority at his personal disposal, and never shy to use it.

"Here's another document you'll need to read." Gabrielle getting down to business without messing around. "It's self-descriptive."

A little unwilling to pass up the chance to flirt with a pretty woman, but bravely facing the fact, Gerard took the missive bowing over it, reading slowly—literature in general not being one of his strong points. Finally—

"But—I do not understand! General LaSalle here orders me to accompany you both to this Vila Nova da Telha, but why? I have seen it on maps, it must be at least ten kilometers north of Oporto. We are attacking the French around the city; this village is completely beyond the fighting zone. What reason could there possibly be to lay siege to the place?"

"We're not taking a regiment, not even yours, Brigadier." Xena setting him right on the nature of their proposed expedition. "We're going alone—just you, me, and Gabrielle."

Gerard was even more confused.

"I see you are both warriors, ladies, but how on earth is it possible that three Hussars, or at least one brave Hussar and two soldiers even if female, could take a small town alone? It is, of course, not possible, and there's an end of it."

Gabrielle had an answer to this.

"So, you not only want to disregard a direct order from your General, but also one emanating from Fontainebleau itself? Did you not read the sentence where LaSalle describes his orders in this matter as originating from the Emperor himself?"

The fact Gerard's eyebrows now rose so far they almost met his hairline showed this fact had indeed escaped his first scrutiny of the document. Taking it in hand again he gave it a far closer examination, finally nodding over its contents.

"Ah, yes, I see! Well, in that case there is no argument—we shall head out in the morning for this pisshole, Vila Nova da Telha. The name does not fill me with confidence, however; if the fact they have roofed their hovels with tiles is the most important facet of the hole they could think of to name the place after I am not impressed: while you have not yet imparted to me the reason for our presence there, or purpose? Wine, ladies?"

Having poured out, from a glass decanter, three goblets of white wine they all sipped their drinks in mutual silence before Xena assailed the basis for their expedition.

"It's like this, Brigadier, General LaSalle has great confidence in your capability—"

"But, of course!" Gerard here breaking in with a flourish of his hand that spilled much of his wine. "The efficacy of Etienne Gerard's swordplay is renowned throughout seven different countries of Europe, and will be in many further given the correct opportunities and luck!"

Gabrielle sighed softly, Xena contenting herself with gritting her teeth before continuing.

"What LaSalle wants—what the Emperor wants—is for us to go to this place tomorrow and there find and capture, or put out of commission, a certain Monsieur Michel Sauvignon who resides there."

Gerard snorted, curling a supercilious lip.

"And who might this gentleman be, may I enquire?"

"The leader of the group of spies who were responsible for breaking the whereabouts of your squadron of Chasseurs while riding out through hostile country twenty kilometers north of here last month." Gabrielle imparting this news softly.

"An ambush that cost the lives of, how many of your soldiers, fourteen!" Xena sticking to cold facts.

"Ah!" A hot flush accompanied by a tightening of his lips changing Gerard's expression in an instant. "I make a mistake—we leave tonight! If we ride through the night we can be there by morning. I shall, of course, have the honour of revenging my compatriots by skewering the coward through his stinking heart. Come, there is little time; he may already be harbouring thoughts of escaping even further from danger as we speak here. Are your horses ready?"

"Any time you are, Brigadier!" Xena nodding confidently.

"Then let us to the fray—I hunger for the traitor's blood on my sword's edge!"

—O—

The night was dark as pitch, with only a little moonlight well after midnight, and the trio had stopped to breathe their mounts and get their own breath. A fire not being thought expedient they sat on a fallen treetrunk by the side of a small copse discussing their proposed next move when they reached their destination.

"It is necessary we act as quickly as circumstances allow." Xena putting their plan to the French officer. "He's squatting in a villa on the eastern outskirts of the town; we enter, whichever way may be available at the time, rush to his room, whether he be up or abed, take him in charge—"

"There will be no need for that wholly unnecessary piece of bureaucracy." Gerard snorting wrathfully. "My sword's edge will accomplish in an instant what a month of legal argument would shuffle over, have no fear of that. Just let me see the colour of his eyes for one single instant and the deed is done!"

Xena and Gabrielle exchanged glances but did not make any reply to this tirade of rage.

"As it is, ladies, if you excuse me for a moment—matters of, er, bodily need to attend to." Gerard rising to his feet. "There is a thicket of undergrowth some thirty yards over there; I shall be, possibly, some time."

After he had disappeared in the darkness Gabrielle turned to her lover questioningly, whispering quietly.

"D'ya think he's really taken all that guff for the truth?"

"Think so, yeah." Xena nodding. "It's all nonsense, from start to finish; but it's hit his soft spot, his love of his Regiment and men. He'll follow through for sure."

"And we grab him tomorrow morning, when we pass by the abandoned farmhouse on our route we pinpointed as the best place to hold him?" Gabrielle skimming over the rest of their plan. "Keep him there for the rest of the day, then release him late in the afternoon?"

"Yeah," Xena nodded again. "Ares said if we don't he'll reach the Lines north of Oporto, accidentally fall in with a file of troops escorting General Wellesley, and kill him in the ensuing fight."

"An outcome Ares doesn't want to happen?"

"Yip, that's the broad outline of the affair."

"Gods, why d'we always find ourselves embroiled in these sort'a dodgy undertakings, Xena?"

The Warrior Princess shrugged despondently.

"Because we're here, lover; no-one else, just us!"

"Hummph!" Gabrielle not consoled in the least. "I can see this goin' horribly wrong, y'know. I don't know how, when, or where, but it will—I feel it in my water."

Xena snorted again.

"Well, maybe if ya follow Gerard's present action you'll feel, er, relieved, baby?"

"Lover, you are a fool!" The Amazon shaking her head in disgust. "Come on, let's get the horses ready t'carry on riding. Good job the road's clear and easy t'follow."

"Yeah, OK."

—O—

The next morning dawned misty, the trio riding along the dirt road surrounded by what almost amounted to a thick grey cold and wet fog allowing only a clear view for the first fifteen yards or so; this slowing them down to almost a leisurely walk rather than the fast gallop Gerard preferred.

"Mon Dieu! This is impossible! How is a Hussar expected to ride in conditions like this!" He making his feelings known without restraint. "What is He thinking? That we can see through a brick wall, or what? It will be tomorrow morning before we reach Vila Nova da bloody Telha at this rate. I have seen wounded rats with only three legs achieving a faster pace than this!"

But Xena and Gabrielle's thoughts were focused on entirely a different aspect of their ride.

"Look, over there?" Xena beginning their secret plan, unknown to the still innocently swearing Cavalryman. "There's a farmhouse; looks abandoned. Come on, my mount's developed a limp in it's off-side front hoof. Wan'na take a look at it; we can spare the time."

"Oh, if we must, but let us be quick about it, hein!" Gerard continuing to mutter flamboyant oaths garnered from his service in many countries under his breath as they diverted from the road to reach the broken-down farmhouse.

The building was a substantial stone affair in pretty good condition but, because of its closeness to a major route used by three main armies on their marches backwards and forwards, all mostly ready and willing to fight anyone they met, it had been abandoned for the last few years. A few holes were apparent in the slated roof, the main door was, of course, now just an empty opening and piles of trash and earth were everywhere making a close approach difficult. Having reached the ruin the riders tied their mounts to the remains of a fence nearby and walked into the interior.

A short corridor led to a main room which turned out to be the kitchen; a table in the centre of the room, cupboards and shelves lining one wall and a large stone sink against the two wide windows which themselves had only their outer wooden shutters to protect them. The floor was inches deep in earth and dust blown in from everywhere and the walls were covered in mildew and dirt.

"Gods! Place's a mess." Gabrielle twitching a delicate nose with dramatic effect.

"Saw a well out there, meb'be pull up some fresh water, if we're lucky." Xena shrugging valiantly.

"A pot of tea would be most welcome." Gerard nodding as well used to these setbacks.

"Filthy brown muck!" Gabrielle unable to hold back her response to this unusual drink, "Tasted it a few days ago, don't want t'do similar again."

"It's tea or nuthin', baby." The Princess facing reality.

"Huh!"

But the Frenchman's nose, as a well seasoned campaigner's ought, was busy searching every crack and opening for possible loot.

"What have we here?" He investigating a door at the end of the long room. "Ha, wine cellar, or at least food locker! I see cheeses, how they have survived eludes me, but c'est la vie, that is War! And a wine barrel! Ladies, if you can find a beaker or jug we shall be well set in but a few moments; where is my dagger?"

With which he disappeared through the doorway into the darkness beyond.

In an instant Gabrielle leapt across to shut the door, which miraculously was still in place, flicking its lock round with an agile movement.

"Got him!"

"Told ya all that pre-plannin' we did here two days ago would come right in the end!" Xena smiling smugly.

"Har!" Gabrielle not impressed. "Just luck!"

"Glad ya think so. So, what next?"

"What next?" Gabrielle looking at her lover as at a simpleton. "We stay here like a schoolmaster over his pupil till time's up. When'd Ares say we could let the arrogant pr-ck back out?"

The Princess ajusted the shoulder-strap of the pouch hanging at her waist before reaching into it.

"Here, take this, an' keep the dam' thing safe."

Gabrielle took the object, examining it minutely with a curious green eye.

"What is it?"

"It's called a—a—oh, yeah—a timepiece!—"

Given the chance of a sarcastic reply Gabrielle jumped at it.

"Tells bits of Time, does it? Which bits? Does it have the bit we need on, or in, it? Bet it doesn't!"

Sighing, Xena tried again.

"Ares said we had to keep Gerard prisoner here till at least what he called four o'clock this afternoon—"

Gabrielle was no clearer about the time.

"When's that, then? Two, three, four clepsydras from now?"

"They don't use clepsydras in this Age."

Gabrielle raised interested eyebrows.

"How'd they tell time, then? With this tiny thing? I don't think so, lover! No clepsydras, no Time! Or, at least, d'they use the Sun? Haven't seen any sundials anywhere round these parts."

Xena shook her head.

"I spent part of the mornin' talkin' to a merchant back in the town we first arrived in, three days since—when you were out searchin' fer food an' wine for us, remember, with the strange money they use here? One I bought this thing from. He gave me a crash course in how to read the mechanism."

"Yeah, so what did he tell you—about Time an' all?"

"These are little workin' mechanisms that tell the time, all the time throughout every day, automatically."

The Amazon snorted, unconvinced.

"How'd they perform that miracle, I'd like t'know!"

"It's all very complicated." Xena obfuscating the issue, over details that were still more than hazy even to her. "Just take it for granted these two little hands, see them, tell the time throughout the day, an' night, far's I recollect."

"Wonderful device, if so." Gabrielle frowning over the small object in her hand. "Sure the man wasn't havin' you on?"

"Yeah, sure." The Princess beginning to get miffed. "So, what happens is four o'clock'll be when the wide long hand points right up at the figure at the top, which stands for twelve—"

"Does it?" Gabrielle still at sea in a dense fog.

"And the little thin short hand should finally point to this figure here—no, this one, yeah this one, OK?"

"Sure?"

"-er, yeah."

"Don't sound too sure?"

"Well, I am—believe me, ducks."

"Must I?"

"Gods!"

At this point, perhaps providentially, they were interrupted by Brigadier Gerard finally realising he was trapped, a prisoner of wholly untrustworthy companions who had now shown themselves to be the worst of dishonorable turncoats.

"Ho, there, open this dam' door! What in damnation do you think you're up to?"

"Can't do that, Brigadier!" Xena taking full responsibility, as any Warrior Princess playing the long game should. "You're our prisoner, at least for the rest of the day. We'll let you out this afternoon, don't worry. The wine an' cheese in there'll keep you goin' meanwhile. Just take it easy, have a rest."

The sounds that now echoed faintly through the thick oak door were couched in many languages, but all were made up of the nastiest most colourful and blasphemous curses collected by the Cavalryman over the course of his many Campaigns.

Xena sniffed, unaffected; Gabrielle looked as if she dearly wanted a piece of parchment and a stylus to take down some of the juicier expressions for future reference.

—O—

Midday, and all had been well, up to a point; but time's change.

"Which way are they movin'?" Gabrielle, lying in the grass by the edge of the peak of the small hillock turning to her partner, who was using a spy-glass.

"Give me a moment." The Princess twisting the tube a little. "It's dam' hard t'get this thing t'focus. There it is! OK, a small squad of hoplites, cavalry they call 'em here, meb'be twenty strong, comin' this way along a lane I hadn't spotted before. Didn't realise this farm was so close to so many bloody highways, dam'mit!"

"How far away are they? Comin' this way?"

"Yeah, 'fraid so. About ten stadia; they'll be here in no time at all."

Gabrielle scrabbled uncomfortably around in the grass.

"Can ya make out who they are? Hispania's, Lusitanians, French, British? Which'd be worst? Would any be good, come t'that?"

"They'll all be bad, from our point of view." Xena making the obvious assumption. "One lot'll execute Gerard out of hand, with glee and hurrahs; the others'll free him an' do the dirty on us!"

"F-ck!"

"We got'ta go!"

Gabrielle snorted in reply.

"We can't leave now! It's just past midday; if Gerard gets loose he'll still have time t'bump into that dam' British General an' thump him over the head with something heavy, remember?"

Xena shook her head.

"We ain't got any choice. There's a horde of 'em, they're all wearin' those heavy chest armour things, reflecting the Sun blindingly, an' helmets. Big swords an' other armor; don't think even we could deal with them all. They may be on our side, for that; which'd make things all the more difficult."

"What about if they arrive here an' decide, y'know, t'hang Gerard from the nearest tree?"

Xena shrugged.

"Solves the whole problem, don't it!"

Gabrielle growled under her breath.

"That's cold, woman! Don't think I like that."

"Nuthin' we can do about it. Come on, let's move, they'll be here in a coupl'a breaths."

Scrabbling down the low hillock they rose to their feet and headed back to the farm. For the last hour or so Brigadier Gerard had been silent; more probably he may have been up to any kind of activity aimed towards escaping from the closed room he was trapped in; the women couldn't tell; though it, the silence, had begun to worry them both—but now it hardly mattered.

"Got everything?"

"Yeah, haven't left anything."

"OK," Xena turning back to the door. "We'll head some way off, find a place t'observe what happens, an' take it from there."

—O—

Half a clepsydra later, about quarter of an hour, the warriors had found a pine thicket on a low rise which allowed them a clear view of the distant farmhouse, now surrounded by the troop of cavalrymen.

"What're they up to?"

Xena screwed her eye closer to the lens of the single spyglass.

"Wish we had these things back in Athens, but they're dam' hard t'use. What?"

"Those guys!" Gabrielle groaning in exasperation. "Is Gerard dead or ragin' like a wild animal, or what?"

"Can't see him yet; a couple of them have gone in, but nothing's happened yet."

"If he's released an' let go, what's our plan?" Gabrielle's Amazon brain already thinking of the next likely available step.

Xena shrugged, not an easy action considering she was leaning against a pine tree trying to operate the spyglass successfully.

"We got'ta follow him; try'n catch up an' hinder his progress somehow. We can't let him get back t'the vicinity of north Oporto. He'll definitely bump into the General for sure; then all Tartarus'll break loose. We may need t'kill him, before that happens, y'realise?"

Gabrielle shook her head.

"That's a last resort, baby; let's just see how the land lies at the time, OK?"

"Let's get back t'our mounts, we—OH-OH! He's out!"

Gabrielle stood up straight, eager for action.

"What's happenin'?"

There was a short pause while Xena watched the distant view through her lens, then she turned to her companion.

"They're friends, at least of him! They've brought a mount over for him, an' seem t'be congratulating him. Looks like he'll be on the road in a few more breaths, an' we know which direction he'll be takin'. We better get goin' ourselves—get ahead of him, best's we can."

"OK, let's go." Gabrielle nodding in agreement. "If we can work something up ahead of him we may still be able to simply hold him back enough to keep him from meeting his Armageddon."

—O—

The road the women had taken—the only one going in the correct direction—had, at this time in the early afternoon, reached an area of hilly rocky mountains some hundreds of feet high through which the highway made its way in a winding trail.

"Don't know about way-laying Gerard," Gabrielle calling to her companion as they rode along. "just worried someone'll do the same t'us! Perfect place for brigands."

As was only to be expected the Warrior Princess was having none of it.

"The temper I'm in right now, if a whole Scythian army rode up I'd take 'em all out with glee an' joy!"

Gabrielle pouted her lips silently, recognising that her companion was probably capable of exactly that.

A short while later they found themselves in what seemed a tight lengthy winding gorge, with vertical cliffs some fifty feet high looming on either hand close to the edges of the trail.

"How about here?" Xena calling to her companion.

"For what?"

"Oh, just takin' him down; draggin' him off his mount an' tyin' him up. Sound good?"

"Mmmph! If we can do it." Gabrielle hardly convinced.

"We can't go on forever, just ridin' ahead of the fool." Xena running out of patience. "We got'ta do something constructive, an' that something's gon'na happen here, baby, OK?"

"Oh, well!"

Another clepsydra later found the warriors waiting on their mounts behind a spread of large boulders that prevented anyone coming along the trail from seeing them till it was far too late.

"How long'll it take him t'reach us?"

Xena had the answer to this.

"He's in a panic t'get back t'his Regiment; he'll be ridin' like a Valkyrie on a mission. Anytime now, I'd say. Ya ready?"

"We'll try'n unhorse him, but if not I suppose your sword, or my sai, will bring everything to a conclusion one way or the other!"

"Ares' thinks it's necessary—for the good of the whole World in this benighted era!" Xena shrugging her shoulders. "And you know how little Ares usually thinks of the Good for others?"

"Yeah—Yeah, suppose. Oh, well!"

Just then the sound of far-off hooves could be heard on the hard dry earth not so far behind them.

"Ready, baby?"

"As ever, lover!"

An instant later Brigadier Gerard came into view round a corner, riding like the wind, head down and lashing his horse like a madman. Just as he came up on his attackers, but before he could react, the women had ridden out alongside him. Xena, in fine style, wasting no time but flinging herself sideways grabbing him round his waist and dragging him off his mount for them both to hit the ground in a cloud of dust and a loud crash.

Gabrielle jumped to the ground herself racing across to grab the cavalryman's legs and throw a length of rope round them before he had time to resist. Xena doing the same to his arms they both stood back moments later, looking at their prisoner once again lying at their mercy before them. His limbs bound, but his tongue however still free.

"Ungrateful wh-res! Despicable Hell-b-tches! Worthless fishwives! Common harlots! Craven ne'er-do-wells!—"

"Dear-Dear!" Xena unimpressed. "Tch-tch! Manners! Thought y'were a gentleman, Gerard?"

The flow of curses and execrations which this remark now caused to flow from the Frenchman's lips were an education to both women, for as long as they listened before moving off some way to talk privately.

"What d'we do with him now?"

Xena shrugged uncertainly.

"Well, we've got him; let's try not t'lose him again, OK?"

Gabrielle shook her head disparagingly.

"That the best you can come up with, Princess?"

"What else is there? We're in the middle of nowhere; there's nowhere t'keep him prisoner. I don't suppose you're on for lettin' me skewer him with my sword an' us ridin' off happily in'ta the sunset?"

"No, I dam' well ain't!"

"Thought not."

Half a clepsydra later they had their prisoner hidden among the nearby rocks, back against a large boulder; he now in a rather more controlled temper.

"This will not do, ladies." He shaking his head, as one completely out of his comfort zone. "It is not for Gerard to menace women, but there are exceptions to every rule, I have found in my travels. This being one! Let me stand free, give me my sword, and I guarantee you both will meet your Maker in record time!"

"By the Goddess Concordia, that ain't nice!" Xena grimacing in lieu of a smile. "Control your temper, for all Olympus' sake, will ya?"

The Brigadier shook his own head, searching for Reason amidst Madness.

"What is it you want? What can I give you that will see me free of your despicable presence? What?"

"Nothing." Gabrielle adding her opinion to the argument. "All we want is to, er, hold you here for a coupl'a more clep—that is, hours, is all. Then we'll release you to go on your way as you wish."

"Of course if, after we release you, you try anything funny," Xena making plain their position re retaliation. "we'll stick ya like a dam' pig, so be wary! An', for all the Gods' sakes, stop belly-achin' an' threatenin' wholesale destruction with every breath—you're beginnin' t'bore both of us!"

But Gerard wasn't finished; bringing all his experience to the fore, of many military expeditions throughout Europe, he focused on the one supposition that seemed the likeliest to him.

"Loot! Or, at least, ransom! It is for the fortune you wish to realise on my world-wide fame you have captured me, non? You think that an appeal to General LaSalle, or even the mighty Emperor himself, will rain fortune, diamonds, gold, and chest-loads of francs beyond compare down on your shoulders, eh?"

"Non, ya idiot!" Xena trying to stop the flow, unsuccessfully.

"—but let me disabuse you both of that fine dream," Gerard carrying on regardless. "I have fame throughout Europe, oui; there is not a fine honorable soldier in most of the nearby countries bordering glorious France who has not tried his skill with sword or cutlass against me and, of course, failed miserably in the doing so. My skills in handling a regiment of Hussars precedes me in every Campaign I take part in. And, if I may so describe myself, my victories in the Art of Romance and Love throughout Europe leave every right-thinking young Lady in awe and jealous of my presence and accomplishments in that area; if I may so boast without being overbearing. But with you two, I hold myself in check. For you I will willingly try a passage at arms with either or both at the same time; certain in the only possible outcome. I will, of course, have the priest of the nearest Catholic church say a Mass for both your souls; the least I can do! So, release my bonds and let us have the miserable conclusion to your worthless lives over as soon as may be—ha!"

Having suffered this harangue in silence Xena and Gabrielle exchanged a pitying glance before the Amazon approached the sitting bundle of self-confident virtue with a loose rag, much to the French soldier's anxiety.

"And what, madam, may be on your mind, may I ask? It is not for a Frenchman, of the greatest honour and rectitude, to threaten a mere woman—small, weak, and as little in frame as she is in virtue and moral worth as you show yourself to be—but all the same, madam, if you try anything of the unworthily physical on my shoulders I shall have no recourse but to rain condign punishment on you which you will remember with floods of tears for the rest of your life—which, I also assure you, will be, anyway, of the shortest duration!"

Gabrielle, angered beyond reason by this cutting description of her character and physique, readied the rag in her hand, having the perfect answer.

"Gods, I've listened t'donkeys farting extensively an' lengthily, the results of which always made more sense than your imbecilic self-assured meanderings! Here, let's see if this helps!"

Two minutes later the Soldier sat mute, the gag hindering all but the faintest note of opposition to his latest position.

"Gods, that's better!"

Xena shook her head as they walked off some yards to sit on a flat boulder.

"Thinks a great deal of himself, don't he? Wonder his barrack mates put up with such an unending flow of self-puffing!"

Gabrielle agreed, wholeheartedly; her own ego still itching from Gerard's last wholly negative description of her attributes.

"If he was an Amazon, Gods' forbid, he'd have found himself thrown in the nearest river t'cool his conceit long before now!"

—O—

"Are ya sure?"

"No."

"Oh! Well, in that case—"

"But it must be near enough—look at the sun!" Gabrielle, where they still sat among the rocks of the gorge, here glancing up at the cloudless heavens this late in the afternoon, before returning her gaze to her loved compatriot and then the gold-cased half-hunter in the palm of her hand; the arms on the face pointing inexorably, though unknowingly to its spectators, to four o'clock, then shook her head. "Thought ya knew how this mechanism works through an' through?"

"I think it says the right time—this four thing Ares mentioned—but I can't be certain." Xena leaning over to inspect the face of the small inscrutable instrument held by Gabrielle. "I mean, first time I've ever seen these things; how do I know how accurate they may be?"

"Great Hera!" Gabrielle shaking her head in disgust. "Here we are with a deadline, an' neither of us can tell the exact time t'the nearest clepsydra! Are ya sure that figure there really is the four thing?"

"No."

"Oh, Gods!" The Amazon peered up at the sun again. "Look, judgin' by the Sun it must be fairly well on; near enough three-quarters of the way through the afternoon. I mean, you can admit that, yeah?"

"Suppose, but how can we be sure?" The Princess nodded moodily. "You know Ares; if we're out an hour or so, an' that dam' Gaulish ball o'nonsense over there still gets t'meet that dam' British General when he shouldn't! Well, He—the God o'War—won't be happy, an' ya know how much trouble that'll cause us!"

Gabrielle bowed her head, pouting so thoroughly she looked like a girlish version of herself after being told off for the umpteenth time for some childish indiscretion.

"The thought of bashing him over the head with a suitably heavy rock, till his self-centred brains—if he actually has any—splash on the ground like a dropped pot of porage, an' then goin' merrily on our way singin' songs t'Aphrodite, begins t'appeal more'n more!"

Xen raised an eyebrow at this glance into the intimate thoughts of an angry Amazon, then tried diplomacy.

"How about we wait another three clepsydras? Say, till both the hands on that dam' Tartarus-based mechanism point downwards, to that figure, whatever it is, at the bottom of the dial? Surely by then it'll be long past our deadline? What d'ya think, baby?"

The fact this query was made with a pleading tone most unsuitable to a strong-minded mature woman warrior gave little credence to her inner strength of will on the subject; but Gabrielle, losing all sense of purpose and logic, shook her head in agreement.

"Yeah, might work. What's the alternative, anyhow? Ares' anger? F-ck him, I say. We have multiple times in the past, haven't we? Why not let's go for the record, ha!"

Xena gazed at her lover for a few seconds, then leaned across to give her a deep kiss on the cheek.

"Darlin', always my rock an' source of goodness! OK, let's settle in for the time bein'. Good job we ain't on any of the main military routes; gives us some peace an' quiet. Talkin' of which, should we take off his dam' gag?"

"For a meal, meb'be; but otherwise? He'll just go off on another diatribe about what a great guy he is in every region of modern military an' social life." Gabrielle sneering as thoroughly as an Amazon could in a crisis. "An' if he sidetracks to discussing his multifarious an' unendin' triumphs in the Art of Love just one more time!; by the Gods', I'll do bloody murder for sure!"

However, unwillingly—very much so—the brave Amazon strode over to the seated prisoner, gazing down on him with an air of having just spotted a pile of dog droppings in her path; then she bent to remove the gag and loosen the rope round his wrists.

"At last!" Gerard still very much miffed—if not more so than ever—at his uncomfortable position. "If I may ask that you see sense—an attribute probably mostly unknown to you—it is indeed time you released me from this unbearable situation? I take it you do not wish to kill me, or such would have occurred before this? The thought of ransom you may put from your minds entirely—I have fame and Honour throughout the French Army, and am feared throughout seven other European Armies; but I have little in the way of fortune if by such you think of gold or francs. I have, of course, no alternative but to challenge you both to recourse for my incarceration during this day. You both have swords, I see; or, at least, daggers! The bout, or bouts, will be short and I promise to send you off with the least amount of pain necessary. Before we begin perhaps you both may wish to have a few minutes to say a last prayer? Very well, but please make them short and to the point; I having important business I still wish to carry out this afternoon!"

Gabrielle, pushed beyond her limits and still suffering from his earlier words about her, lost her patience altogether. One swift well-delivered cross punch to his left jaw saw the unconscious form of the French Hussar collapse to the ground in a heap of sky blue uniform and glistening steel breastplate, shining steel helmet rolling away to the side like a large soup bowl.

"That felt good!"

Xena sighed.

"Come on, let's get t'Tartarus out'ta here before the wretch wakes up an' gives us a further piece of his mind; along with yet another reminiscence of his illustrious career!"

As they made their way to their mounts a thought crossed the militant Amazon's mind.

"Wonder if that General Wellesley'll be grateful for what we've done for him t'day? He dam' well ought'a be!"

Xena, however, had her own view on that matter.

"Dam' Wellesley! What I want is to get back t'face Ares again, an' tell him just what I think of his wastin' the last few days of our lives here fer us both!"

"With ya there, lover, with ya there!"

The End