Tempting Fates
Part 10
The entire courtyard of the villa was awash with activity and the sun was splashing through the trees in spears of gold light as they descended the steps from the building.
“Wow.” Gabrielle said, viewing the throngs of people. “Early risers.”
“They love a party.” Iolaus said, with a faint chuckle.
“Don’t we all.” Gabrielle murmured.
Lines of small, hand pulled wooden carts were scattered under the trees, providing a spot for a wide range of crafters and farmers to put down their wares for sale, at least a hundred of them. On the far side of the compound, near the stables were four much larger wagons, with thick shafts obviously pulled by horses or oxen manned by a thick gathering of helpers setting them up.
“There’s our buddies.” Gabrielle nudged Xena gently. “Over there by the wall.”
“I see them.” Xena studied the long line of trestles, stood up on stones and the fluttering fabric tents covering the area. “Seems like they’re in a good spot.”
There were crowds of people flowing in from the gates, and many of them were drawn immediately to the line of crafters, turning and moving along the wall as the setup continued, no one really ready to open shop just yet, but giving smiles and nods to the interested onlookers as they craned their necks to get a peek on what was on offer.
“So what’s the plan for today?” Gabrielle asked Iolaus as they reached the bottom of the steps and paused to regard the somewhat hectic chaos in front of them. She stayed on the last of the steps to allow her the opportunity to take in the sights and Iolaus stopped next to her, while Hercules and Xena strolled a few steps onto the grounds.
“Well.” Iolaus rubbed his hands. “Inside the hall up there are the people who are competing for a bunch of prizes.” He said, pointing to the structure over the stables. “Most of them have been working all night and we thought it was better if we did the judging first thing so they can go collapse somewhere.”
Gabrielle chuckled softly.
“And it gives the early birds something to go look at and buy samples from for breakfast.” Iolaus concluded. “So there’s that, and then some games for the kids in the field behind the stable there, running games and that kind of thing.”
They were beginning to be noticed, and her slightly elevated spot gave Gabrielle a good opportunity to scan the crowd and gauge their temperature, watching the eyes zero in on Hercules and take in the tall figure at his left.
It was slightly funny to watch, because the breeze coming up from the sea was pushing the thick, dark hair back off Xena’s forehead and she was standing in the sun, it’s beams outlining the warm crimson of her vest and the long, flowing silk sleeves.
Perfectly acceptable to the crowd, but then there were her well-worn but also well-made riding boots and the broadsword in its sheath on her back and she could see both the surprise and mixture of slight alarm and doubt in the watching eyes.
An enigma. Gabrielle shifted her grip on her staff and smiled, listening to Iolaus chattering about the events yet to be experienced in the day. Nearby couples paused to stare, the women taking a firmer grip on their consorts arm and nudging them along past.
“Heh heh.” She chuckled softly under her breath.
“What’s so funny?” Xena half turned to look at her.
“Tell you later.” Gabrielle leaned on her staff. “Did you say there’ll be a singing competition after dinner, Iolaus?” She asked, deftly ignoring Xena’s meaningful stare. “Any other performances?”
Iolaus nodded briskly. “There are some harpists coming down from the city, and one of them is supposed to be really good. He’s heading here after he plays at that wedding.” He paused reflectively. “We were invited to it, but long after I started planning this, and now it’s a bone of contention because more people are coming here than going there.”
“Given his attitude not surprising.” Xena said.
“We’ve also got better snacks.” Iolaus agreed solemnly. “And I hear a better market.”
“Well, lets get to judging.” Hercules was oblivious to it all, apparently more than used to being the subject of attention and ignoring the stares. “Yeah, that was something he was sniping at me for when I saw him last night. “
“Again?”
“Again.” Hercules shrugged slightly. “He didn’t have to pick the same day.”
“He sure didn’t.”
**
The upper hall smelled absolutely delightful. They were hit with a gust of baked goods the moment the doors opened and the large room was packed with guests moving around the center of a square of boards on trestles that lined three of the four walls.
There was a buzz of conversation, low and relaxed, and behind the scent of bread there was a waft of citron and honey and a touch of cinnamon in the air.
“Mm.” Xena looked around appreciatively. “You have to test all of them?” She asked Hercules with a chortle as he exhaled and made a little grimace. She looked over at Iolaus. “Why does he have to do so much work on his birthday?”
Hercules looked around. “Yeah!”
“Because everyone wants you to tell them they’re the best.” Iolaus ignored the looks. “Come on.” He latched on to Hercules’s sleeve. “Why not ask Xena and Gabrielle to help? I’m sure they don’t mind tasting.”
“What if we don’t agree what the best is?” Gabrielle asked. “Do we want to start an argument in the middle of the...” She looked at the first table they were approaching. “Honey buns?” She met the eyes of the woman behind the trestle and smiled.
The woman gave her a furtive look and glanced away, focusing her attention on Hercules as she held out a small wooden disk with one of the buns on it to him.
Gravely, Hercules accepted the disk. Then he paused thoughtfully, glancing at the woman behind the counter before he removed a small knife from a sheath at his belt and carefully cut the bun in four sections, turning to offer his companions a portion. “Lets all do it.”
That did not make the woman happy, Gabrielle noted, as she took one of the quarters and nibbled at a corner of it. The bun had an interesting herbal taste, it was sweet, she could taste the honey on the surface, but it also had a hint of a sharp tang on the back of the tongue that was almost but not quite spicy.
She looked over at the woman. “Is that some lemon grass in there?” She asked, ignoring the look of almost offense on her face. “Or is that from the flowers the bees in these parts prefer?”
Hercules had finished chewing his bit and swallowed. He looked at the woman. “Gabrielle’s the cook in the family in case you hadn’t guessed.” He said, in a slightly droll tone. “Which is it?”
“Pardon, sir.” The woman made a reluctant curtsey. “Lady, it’s a herb grown locally, we call it savory, but just a trifle of it to brighten up the tongue.”
“Thanks.” Gabrielle said. “I’ll see if I can pick some up in the market.” She added. “It’s really a nice taste.”
The woman relaxed, and finally issued a smile.
They moved on to the anxiously waiting next tabletop, this one with intricately twisted pastries dusted with specks of deep gold on the top. “Who’s taking notes?” Hercules asked, as they came to a halt.
“That’d be me.” Iolaus held up a small book of cut, bound parchment sheets covered in well-tanned leather. “I put a page in for all the entrants.”
This baker, a man, held up a silver plate with his twisted pastry on it, already cut in four sections. Hercules noted that with a grin and passed the plate around before taking his portion. “Still warm.”
“Right out the oven, sir.” The man said quickly. “It’s a family speciality, that one.”
Gabrielle bit into her piece, finding it pleasantly crunchy, multiple layers of thin dough with the specks on the top some kind of hardened bits of honey flavored with mint.
“Mm.” Xena uttered a noise of approval next to her. “Nice.”
The man behind the counter was quick to recognize the approval and he smiled, and Gabrielle decided there was a self-satisfaction in the smile that maybe was understandable, but not appealing. She finished up the bite and dusted her fingers off. “That was delicious.”
The man’s smile became wider. “A recipe my grandfather passed down to my father, and then to myself.” He said. “A technique we are known for.” He eyed her and then the rest of them with a bright expression. “I cannot of course reveal it, but if you would like a small explanation…”
“Oh, thank you but no.” Gabrielle answered in a sincere tone. “We have a lot of other things to see, and when I have some time, I think I can figure out how they were made.” She smiled at him and was rewarded by the mixture of emotions on his face, but moved along listening to the soft chuckles of her companions.
“Troublemaker.” Xena gave her a sideways look.
“Yes.”
It was a few paces to the next table. “Could you?” Iolaus asked, in a low voice.
Gabrielle shrugged one shoulder. “No idea, I’m not really much for baking. But his attitude bothered me.” She licked her lips. “Why are these people so prickly, Iolaus?”
Iolaus sighed. “Lets get through the next few and I’ll fill you in. Otherwise we’ll be here all day.”
Xena laughed softly, as she walked casually along at the rear of the group, taking in the room with her peripheral vision. She was aware of course that they were the center of attention and in fact she could see some of the townsfolk who had been working in the back of the room standing on tiptoe to see them, the low buzz of conversation audible to her sensitive ears.
“You’re causing a lot of conversation adding us to your family.” She commented to Hercules.
He glanced back at her, and then shrugged his broad shoulders. “My chosen family.” He said. “They all know that.”
“Mmm…” Xena looked at him, her head tilted slightly to one side in doubtful disagreement.
“Hey I explained to everyone who you guys were.” Iolaus looked a bit annoyed. “I was really clear.”
“You were?” Gabrielle gave him an impish look. “I’d have loved to hear that. How detailed did you get?”
“Can we table that?” Iolaus cleared his throat. “The next one’s Bertus, and he’s very proud of his hand pastries.” He pointed to the waiting group just ahead of them. “They’re meat filled, not sweet.”
“They’re all very different. Maybe we could give all of them a prize.” Gabrielle felt Xena’s wrist come to rest on her shoulder and she turned her head, tilting it to put a kiss on her fingers. “I’m not sure how you’d judge them.”
Hercules heard her, and paused, turning around to regard them with a thoughtful expression.
“We don’t have that many prizes.” Iolaus said hastily.
“We could get them.” Hercules folded his arms over his chest, glancing around at the watching crowd who were now drifting closer seeing them stop in their progress. “That’s a great idea. I’ve been wracking my brains trying to figure out how to avoid offending half the town with this.”
Xena nudged him. “Get moving. We’ll figure something out while we munch.” She herded them forward aware of a scattering of more finely dressed bodies drifting through the crowd, and a tall man in silks with what appeared to be two soldiers trailing after him.
She watched them from the corner of her eye but they seemed to just be browsing like the rest, the tall man pointing out various things and the guards nodding. But there were people in the crowd near them that were pointing and nudging and there was just something…
One of the guards, looking across the room, spotted her and she saw his body jerk in reaction and his hand reach out to touch the sleeve of his patron, who turned and looked her way.
He was not familiar to her, but by the widening of his eyes, she knew she was known to him and she accepted her quarter of a hand pie while focusing her attention on the three men.
“Something up?” Gabrielle asked softly.
“Maybe.” Xena watched the tall man’s body language carefully, then she shrugged and chuckled. “Or maybe I’m just hoping for some entertainment.” She popped the pastry into her mouth. “We’ll find out.”
“We usually do.”
**
It was late morning before they completed the circuit of the entrants in the contest, ending up at the far side of the hall in a quiet corner while the hall itself filled to the brim with shoppers and visitors. Now that the judging was over, or at least the tasting for the judging was over, the atmosphere in the room had relaxed, and there was a lot of friendly chatter and laughter mixed with the soft clink of coins changing hands and woven bags being stuffed with wares.
Iolaus thumbed through his notes. “Wow.” He said, after a brief pause. “That was a lot of stuff.”
“There’s a table out there.” Gabrielle pointed out the double doors flung wide open to catch the cool breeze. “Want to sit down and come up with things to award everything for?” She tucked her free hand inside his elbow. “C’mon. Between the two of us we should be able to make something up.”
Iolaus chuckled suddenly. “Yeah that’s true. Lets go.”
The two sallied through the door and went to the edge of the hall’s wrap around porch to claim one of the tables that was out of the way to settle down at it, blonde heads bent together in consultation.
Hercules leaned against the wall and studied the crowd, and Xena leaned back next to him, crossing her ankles. “Now what.” He said. “Should we come up with as prizes.”
“What were you going to use?”
“Three little wooden chests, with a key inside it.” Hercules promptly said. “They can display it in their permanent shops. But we didn’t really talk about what the criterion was for winning them. I don’t think we had anything that was either like ambrosia or..”
“Or gagworthy.” She responded. “Yeah, it was all pretty good. These cooks know their business.”
Hercules nodded. “They mostly pack up what they bake and take it to the city to sell in the street market there, they get more coin for it.” He glanced at her. “They don’t charge as much for their neighbors.”
“Mom does the same.” Xena said. “Or barters.” She added. “How many are there here?”
“Thirty.”
Xena narrowed her eyes in thought. “I got an idea. Let me go see if I can con someone into it.” She pushed away from the wall and ducked out the door, and into the bright sunlight.
Gabrielle’s head lifted as she came into view and Xena met her eyes, making a casual gesture with one hand and getting a wave in return. She headed for the steps and trotted briskly down them, drawing in a breath of the salt tinged air thankfully free of yeast and honey.
The central courtyard was now very crowded, both with townsfolk and with visitors and it took her some time to work her way through the throngs of people and get to the central roadway leading to the gates that guards were keeping open for passage.
The attitude here seemed a lot more festive, and between the tables were a scattering of musicians who were perched on leather folding stools with a collection of lyres and pipes and were playing a background of tinkling tunes that somehow didn’t conflict with each other or offend her ears.
Next to one pair of players a young boy was dancing, intricate steps combined with a set of ribbons in his hands that made swirling patterns in the air. A small crowd had stopped to watch him, and as Xena edged past, one man tossed a small coin into a wooden bowl on the ground.
The boy flourished his ribbons in acknowledgement, and then he burst into song, a light engaging tenor that matched the sound of the music well and she nodded her head a little to the tune and moved more quickly down the lane towards the back wall.
There, the crafters were having a bellwether day it seemed, the more richly dressed visitors clustered around them and their tented enclosures thickly crowded with both buyers and onlookers. Xena got to the edge of the throng and used her height to good advantage, finally spotting her target in the far back corner where the walls converged.
There were at least a dozen people in front of the glassmaker’s display, all of them finely dressed, most of them men, but there were at least two women in attendance, watching attentively. They were matrons, older women with sparkling jewelry on hand and neck, and attractively set silvered hair.
The glassmaker was spewing his pitch, he had his rolling case up close behind him and it’s doors were flung open. The beautiful piece from the day before was gone, and Xena guessed he’d already delivered it to his patron before coming to the fair.
But there were other things in there, glasses and pitchers and some beautiful vases and a gray haired, distinguished man was holding one of the bottles carefully in his hands, listening to the patter.
Xena didn’t want to interrupt the crafter. She very slowly eased her way to the edge of the crowd, ending up against the far wall and leaning her shoulder against it to wait, edging forward as the crowd milled around and ending up at the very edge of the enclosure, the fluttering silk panels draped against her head.
The gray haired man placed an order. Two others stepped up to take his and his lady’s place as he moved away and in that slight gap the glassmaker spotted her, his eyes brightening and his brows lifting in acknowledgement. He set out a tray with a wine flagon and four glasses for the newcomers to look at, and took a step back, ducking back behind the display case.
One of his assistants stepped up at once and took his place, and the crafter circled behind the rest of his stock and came over to the corner where Xena was standing. “Ah, the lady of the hour.”
Xena grinned at this description of her and thus invited, stepped into the tented enclosure. “Looks like a good crowd.”
“Eh.” He shrugged modestly. “I am the best and they all know it. Some want to pay the price, some don’t.” He said. “We had a big fracas last night after you ladies left us. Have you heard?” He kept his voice low, but there was anticipatory excitement in it, a man happy to be sharing the gossip.
“I heard some kid got offed.” Xena answered in the same low tone. “Some herders or something?”
“More than that.” Mele said. “They were followers of the Sun God, Illumos they call him. There’s a big encampment of them on the plains between here and the city. These two fledglings started mocking us for believing your lovely friend’s tales of our gods.”
Xena snorted.
“They were going on and on about Illumos, and finally Bettina tossed them head over bottom out the door and told them to take their foolishness elsewhere.” Mele went on. “Next thing we know, one of them comes stumbling back in with a harvest scythe buried in his chest, bleeding out all over her floor.”
“Nice.” Xena remarked, mildly. “Any idea who did it?”
Mele shook his head. “Coulda been anyone, really. They leave those tools out by the barn and those two had stock stored up in there but at any rate Bettina just sent up for the guards and dragged him outside.” He nodded sagely. “And those of us with any sense minded our business.”
“Yeah.” Xena agreed, though likely she certainly wouldn’t have minded her own business. “Probably mouthed off to someone like Bettina one too many times.”
Mele looked at her sideways. “Or even someone like yourself.”
She smiled at him. “I wouldn’t have bothered with a scythe and I’m long past whacking someone for running their mouth off.”
“Truth.” The glass blower said, unperturbed. “Mark of a hot head, that kind of thing.”
“Huh.” Xena made a thoughtful sound. “Your guy get his pretty this morning?”
Mele chuckled. “Was here at the point of dawn, and I was happy to hand it over to him.” He said. “It’s as he wanted but he’s a sour sort and I wish his bride all the luck of him. He’ll have her father to deal with, and he’s all for Illumos as well.”
“Yeah I heard that.” Xena said. “Not sure it’s smart for anyone to be dissing the Olympians though with a son of Zeus living here.” She shook her head. “Kind of crazy.”
Mele looked at her, his head slightly tilted to one side. “Is he truly?” He asked, in a light whisper.
Xena looked back at him. “Yes.”
“It seems so fantastical.” Mele said, in an apologetic tone. “I do not mean offense, he is a fine and honorable gentleman.”
“None taken. I’m sure there’s times he wishes it weren’t.” Xena said. “Lets talk about something else. I’m looking for something we can give to the people in the contest in the hall. I need 30 of something. Got any ideas?”
“What contest?” Mele was willing to be distracted.
“It’s a cooking contest. Something about buns.”
“Ahh.” He nodded. “Yes, I heard about that. All those who go up and sell at the city gates. I have myself sampled some of their product.” He paused thoughtfully. “But it is a large variety.”
Xena nodded.
“Seems it’s a silly contest.” The glassblower said, bluntly. “How does one judge a pastry with another?”
Xena nodded again. “That’s the point. Rather than get them all in a froth about who won give em all a prize.”
“Ahh.” Mele turned and waved her to follow him. “Come, lady. I may have something that suits.” He said. “And I recall that I owe you a favor. This might make us even.”
“Right behind ya.” Xena moved deeper into the tent after him. “Yep, that’ll make us even.”
**
“Okay, that’s that.” Gabrielle surveyed the large sheet of parchment in front of her, one of her quills held in her fingers as she reviewed her work. “I think that’ll do it.”
“How in the world do you make up all that nonsense, Gabrielle?” Iolaus had just set down two mugs of cold cider.
Gabrielle glanced at him. “I have kids and an entire tribe of Amazons to deal with. It exercises your ability to spew nonsense at the drop of a duck’s butt.” She gently blew on the page to dry the letters. “The question is going to be can Hercules read this with a straight face.”
“He’s got a better chance of doing that than I do.” Iolaus sat down next to her and perused the contents. “And lets hope Xena succeeds in her mission.”
Gabrielle glanced up and over at the steps. “Here she comes now.” She set her quill down on the table, it’s nib on a scrap of parchment and watched as Xena reached the top of the steps and headed their way. In her arms was a leather bag that she was holding with some care. “She’s got something.”
Hercules emerged from the hall and met up at the table at the same time Xena arrived, and gently set down the leather bag she was carrying, it’s contents emitting the faintest of tinkling noises. “Okay.” She unlaced the top of the sack. “Lets see if this’ll do.”
She opened the top of the sack and the sunlight poured over her shoulder and lit up the interior in brilliant sparkles. “Our friend the glass blower agreed to donate these, so long as you give him credit for it.” She picked up something and put it down on the table and it sat there, sparkling in the sunlight.
It was a fanciful figurine of a fish, it’s body resting on fluted fins and its tail in a feathery frill behind it, probably about three fingers tall and two finger wide. It had eyes of glass dots and smiling lips, a crystal-clear body with lightly tinted color in the appendages.
“Wow.” Iolaus murmured.
“He gave you thirty of those?” Hercules asked, his voice rising in disbelief.
“He owed me a favor.” Xena held out her hands and raised her brows. “Yes? No? This work?”
Gabrielle patted her knee. “Good job, hon.” She said. “I thought that’s maybe where you were headed.”
“I mean.. yeah sure absolutely that’s great.” Hercules sputtered. “They’re all going to freak out.” He added. “In a good way.” He picked up the fish and examined it. “That guy’s a real artist, even if he’s an outspoken showman.”
“And rude.” Iolaus agreed. “Okay let me take these and we can put them on the table at the front of the hall under a cloth until Herc’s ready to read this nonsense we just finished.”
Xena had been reading over Gabrielle’s shoulder and she started laughing. “Gabrielle.”
“What am I doing now?” Hercules edged around the table and peered at the parchment. “Oh no.” He covered his eyes and sighed. “Well the fish’ll make up for it.” He said. “If nothing else it’s gonna be memorable.” He put the fish back into the bag and carefully closed the top and lifted it into his arms. “C’mon, Io. Lets get this done.”
Iolaus rolled up the parchment and tapped Gabrielle lightly on the head with it. “Thanks guys. This is going to be a great party.”
Xena sat down next to Gabrielle as they walked off and let her hands rest on the table bench, extending her legs out under the table. “Apparently that kid that got whacked last night was mouthing off to the people at the inn about not believing that story of yours.”
“The Titan one?” Gabrielle paused from packing up her quill and ink into its holder. “Really.”
Xena nodded. “Those two were followers of that new sun god.”
“Huh.” Gabrielle slid the holder into her shoulder bag. “Well that’s not a good reason to get killed though is it?”
Xena shrugged. “Bettina tossed them out, then the kid who got offed came back with a scythe buried in his chest.”
“And no one saw anything?”
“That’s the question isn’t it? Maybe we can take a walk down there later on tonight and ask.” Xena tapped her fingers on the table surface. “Something there doesn’t feel right.” She glanced towards the stairs where volumes of people were now climbing up and heading for the hall. “Lets go watch your latest material performed. Grab that back when they’re done you can use it for the next harvest festival at home.”
Gabrielle shouldered her bag and stood, reaching for her staff. “Ha ha.”
“Not kidding.”
**
The sun was starting to slant towards the western horizon, sea breeze coming up the slope freshening and on the breeze was the smell of a cook fire and meats roasting, with a spice filled tang in the air that promised a decent supper feast ahead.
Along the frontage of the main hall there were trestles being positioned, and people were approaching them as they were settled to put packages and baskets on top, most with at least a festive ribbon of cloth wrapped around them.
Gabrielle meandered through the last few rows of produce and small crafts, one hand curled around her staff the other latched onto the strap of the carry bag slung over her shoulders. The bag was already comfortably full of acquisitions and now she stopped at a little wooden cart with an older woman behind it, seated on a wooden stool who looked at her with the mildest of interests.
The cart had three crates left on it, with the citrus fruits Gabrielle had been eyeing the previous day. She was about to inspect one of the yellow lemons when a man came up next to her from browsing the next table over. He laid a hand on the cart and stared at her, his free hand twitching his richly embroidered silk robe, that extended down the length of him to below his knees.
Gabrielle looked back at him with a benign expression. “Hi.” She returned her attention to the lemons and picked up a likely specimen, with bright yellow skin. Even from where it was held in her hand, she could smell the tang of it and imagine the taste added to a brew of an evening herbal tea.
“What is the stick for?” The man asked. A boy dressed in the same finery wandered up and stood next to the man, staring at her with interest. “Look here, Eldas.” The older man said to the boy. “Have we found a shepherd in the market?”
Gabrielle exchanged brief glances with the woman behind the cart, who faintly rolled her eyes in a world weary acknowledgement between them. “It’s an Amazon war staff.” She answered readily, holding up the lemon and raising her eyebrows in question at the vendor. “Not used much for herding.”
The man was possibly a little older than she was, bearded and dark haired, with an aristocratic profile and an arrogant manner. “What does that mean?” He asked, his tone expecting an answer. “A war staff? Seems unlikely to me.”
The woman behind the cart held up one finger, bent at the knuckle, then as Gabrielle looked at her, touched the knuckle to her lips, and shook her head.
Gabrielle nodded in understanding, but grinned impishly and touched two lemons, smaller ones, and held up her hand with the same finger bent. Then she looked at the man. “You asked me what the staff was for, I told you. It’s an Amazon war staff. I use it as a weapon.”
“A stick?” The boy spoke up for the first time. He had an adolescent’s voice, in the process of breaking and hoarse on the edges. “As a weapon? Let me see it.”
He grabbed at the staff, and Gabrielle, having anticipated that from his body language swiveled and whipped the lower end of the weapon around and smacked him in the hip with it, generating a resounding thwack as it hit the fine leather of his belt.
He was thrown back and stumbled, reaching out to the cart for balance and missing the edge as his feet came out from under him and he ended up on his behind on the ground. “Ah!’ He coughed, grabbing at his side. “Father!”
Gabrielle returned her staff end to the path and wrapped her hand around the upper part again. “What kind of manners do they teach children around here? Don’t grab at people’s property.” She told the older man in a stern voice. “That’s not nice.”
Heads in the area had turned and now there were many eyes on them. Gabrielle spread her boots out a little bit for balance and shifted her bag around to rest against her back in case the man decided to continue the physical confrontation.
She wasn’t really worried. He had a belt dagger, but it’s hilt was gilded and it seemed more of a decoration and she felt well capable of deflecting anything he might decide to throw in her direction. The boy didn’t concern her at all.
The older man had taken a step back in shock, shaking his head as though unable to believe what he had see. “You struck my son!” He said, sharply. “What do you think you’re doing, woman? Have you any idea what the law is?”
“I did.” Gabrielle agreed. “You want to try that? I’ll hit you too.” She added. “I don’t really care what the law is. This staff belongs to me and your kid shouldn’t have grabbed it.”
The man started looking around. “Get up, Eldas.” He snapped at the boy. “Where is your master, woman. I would have speech with them.” He said. “Are you here with your father? Your husband? Call them!”
Gabrielle chuckled. “My father’s in Elysia. I don’t have a husband.” She commented. “I guess you don’t know what an Amazon is - but If you keep yelling like that I can guarantee that you’ll find out.”
Two of the compound guards pushed their way through the now very interested crowd, as the boy got to his feet and brushed the dirt off his clothing. “What is the trouble here?” The first of the guards said, glancing at all of them, and giving Gabrielle a little nod. “Lady.”
The older man’s entire face twitched. Gabrielle watched him in fascination as he went from outraged to wary in a blink of an eye. She leaned on her staff. “It’s no problem, this young man just tripped on my staff.” She told the guard easily. “You can move along. I think I hear someone getting rowdy near the taproom there. “
A rough yell was heard, and laughter. The guards nodded knowingly and lifted a hand to give her a little wave. “Well enough, lady, enjoy the market.” They walked on, heading towards the sounds with a quickening pace.
The older man looked at her in silence for a moment. “Who are you?” He asked then, in a completely different and less arrogant tone.
“Hi.” Gabrielle repeated her original greeting. “My name’s Gabrielle.” She said. “I’m a guest of the town’s patron.”
“Ah.” He jerked his head in a gruff motion. “You are a… friend… of Hercules then.”
She just nodded in response.
“As I said, Eldas, he brings ideas we want no part of.” The older man took his son by the shoulder and pushed him away from the cart, turning his back on them and walking away with a stiff posture as the crowd slowly parted to let him pass between them.
Gabrielle felt Xena’s presence behind her and a moment later her shoulders were warmed through the fabric over them by strong hands clasping her on either side of her neck. “Why must there always be jerks, Xe?”
“To provide us endless entertainment, Gabrielle.” Xena said. “I heard your whack and came over to see what kind of trouble you were causing.”
“Me? I wasn’t causing any trouble I was standing here buying lemons.” Gabrielle protested. “That little pipsqueak grabbed my staff.” She returned her attention to the lemon seller, aware that the crowd was still watching with interest perhaps expecting further amusement, especially now that Xena’s tall figure was introduced to the scene. “Now. Where were we?” She looked expectantly at the woman behind the cart.
The woman leaned on the other side of the cart. “What’s an Amazon?” She asked. “I have never heard of such either it seems.” She picked up the two smaller lemons and handed them over to Gabrielle. “We were haggling half dinar for these.”
“What is an Amazon.” Gabrielle was fishing in her belt pouch. “Well, that’s a good question I guess they never spread out as far as this area.” She glanced at Xena in question. “Did they?”
“I don’t think so no.” Xena picked up one of the lemons and sniffed it, then rubbed her thumb along the skin. “Has a lot of oil in it.” She glanced at the woman. “They had some tarts up in the competition that used it I think.”
The woman nodded. “Aye.”
“So Amazons are women who live together in tribes in the area we’re from.” Gabrielle said. “The tribe builds a community together with customs specific to them.”
The woman thought a moment. “Only women?” She asked as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “All the time?”
Gabrielle muffled a laugh. “They typically only interact with men for.. um..” She paused to consider her phrasing.
“Breeding.” Xena supplied helpfully before she could continue.
The woman’s eyes opened big and round. “No?” She inhaled in surprise. “Really!” Her brow creased as she considered the idea then she asked. “What do they do for protection? For hunting? Wild animals!?” She stared at the two of them in astonishment. “They have no one to take care of them?”
Gabrielle looked at her, then looked at her own staff, then turned around and looked Xena up and down, then she turned and looked back at the woman with her head tilted to one side. “We handle all that.” She said, in a matter of fact tone. “We’re good.”
Now the crowd was staring at them with varying degrees of disbelief and consternation. Gabrielle just handed over the copper coin, minted and stamped at the forge in Amphipolis and stored the lemons in her bag. “Glad they decided to just grab my staff and not your sword, hon.”
“Yeah. That would have been a lot messier.” Xena shook her head as they left the cart and moved along the lane, now getting wide eyed looks from everyone who had heard the conversation, and along the way as the word was passed from stall to stall. “I get the feeling Herc’s gonna end up regretting inviting us.”
“I think he’s actually enjoying us bringing chaos wherever we go.” Gabrielle disagreed, as they moved past a tanner with goat skins for sale. “Don’t tell me he didn’t enjoy giving out those glass fish and really, I think that was the best solution and made everyone equally.. happy?”
Xena chuckled as they paused by another small, very old cart full of herbs. “Let me see what we got here. “ She scanned the bundles. “I think they really wanted some people to win, but nobody could argue if they all got something pretty for their efforts.”
There was an older man behind the cart, watching them warily. “These are for medicine, not for cooking.” He said, after a moment, in a gruff voice.
Xena glanced up from the herbs and met his eyes. “I know.” She said briefly. “Although you can use some of them for both.” She added almost as an afterthought. “What am I short of.. ah.” She selected several bundles. “Didn’t see any of this on our way out here.”
Gabrielle was watching the man as she stood quietly waiting for Xena to finish shopping. She could see the mixture of alarm and hesitation on his face. “Is that the one you use to make that headache tea, Xe?” She asked casually.
“Yeah.” Xena was still sorting through the herbs. “And this is the one for cramps.” She said, adding another bundle. “I haven’t seen that variety since we were in Athens.”
The herb seller’s face had cleared and he had stepped a bit closer, clasping his hands in front of him. “Let me know if you need any guidance, lady.” He said simply. “I think myself that you come from afar.” He offered the statement as a question.
Gabrielle smiled at him. “We do.” She said. “Borderlands of Thrace, in fact. This is a lovely town. I’m glad we got a chance to visit.” She added, catching the reactions in the faces watching them, seeing a moderation in the consternation. “A lot of things growing here we don’t see much of back where we live.”
The next cart over was piled with fruits, and the man selling it promptly came over with a handful of grapes, dark and almost purple in color. He offered it to them without prompting. “I think these do not grow in your homeland.” He commented. “My wife’s family came from that area. Her father spoke of it as a sparse, mountainous place.”
“Very different there, yes.” Gabrielle took one of the grapes and bit into it, blinking a little. “They sure don’t.” She took another and handed it to Xena. “Wow, that’s an amazing taste. It’s sort of spicy.”
The man nodded. “Yes, I do not produce wine myself, I am not licensed to do so, but I grow the grapes that others use.” He said. “These are unique to this area. They use these to create the wines for.. “ He paused slightly. “Temples, and such like.”
Xena slowly chewed and swallowed the grape. “Tastes almost fig like.” She said and he nodded in agreement. “Nice.”
“The wine it produced is red, like blood.” The man said. “And they leave it in contact with the skins for long and fortify it with herbs to thicken.”
“I think I’d rather have the grapes.” Gabrielle winked at him. Then she circled Xena. “You finish up here, hon. I’m going to see what else is over there.” She walked with the grape seller back to his cart, where there were woven baskets with different varieties of the small, round fruits. “Can I get a whole basket?”
“Assuredly, lady.”
Xena had the stacks of herbs sorted to her satisfaction and she eyed the herb seller. “How much?”
The man leaned on his cart and studied the stacks. Then he looked up at her. “May I be frank?” He asked. “I have not sold to a woman before.” He saw Xena’s raised eyebrow. “Those of the healing arts here, are men.” He concluded.
“There a rule against that?” Xena folded her arms.
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “There is no law as to who I can sell to, so long as they are knowledgeable. Because I think you well know, lady, there is danger in these for those who do not have that knowledge.”
Xena looked around where she was standing and noted more than one set of ears listening hard to the conversation, despite the chatter and noise of the market. “So.” She said, slowly. “Women here don’t want to be healers?”
The man looked steadily at her. “The training is only given to the privileged, lady, and is reserved for select sons. It is a lucrative profession.” His eyes flicked from side to side and then back to her. “I can understand if that is different from where you come from, as it is far away.”
“Ah.” Xena mused. “Valuable knowledge.”
“Yes.” The man nodded, relieved at her understanding. ‘Very valuable. In the city, the high born families pay very well for such to attend them.” He added. “There are some, of course, homely women who grow herbs in their garden, but they are for taste, and a few, to cure a stomach upset, that type of thing.” He paused and then went on. “Are there schools where you live, where both women and men get instructed in this art?”
Xena regarded him thoughtfully. “I learned a lot of my healing on the battlefield.” She said, briefly. ‘Starting with sewing myself up.”
The man blinked at her in momentary silence.
“So that’s how I got the basics.” She continued in a serious tone. “Along the way I picked up lessons from women, men, and centaurs. But mostly just from having to keep people alive.”
The tanner edged over from where he’d been standing, ears outstretched to listen. “You have traveled with armies, lady?”
“Yes.” A smile appeared on Xena’s face. “But mostly I led them.” She tapped the top of the cart. “How much?” Her voice took on an impatient note. “No idea why you don’t want to teach half your population how to do things. There’s nothing a man can do that I can’t.”
The herbalist had been folding the herbs neatly into a parchment as a packet. “Well perhaps one thing, lady.” He said, and the crowd as if in relief, laughed.
Xena looked him in the eye and smiled again. “Nothing.” She repeated. “How much?”
He handed her the packet with one hand and waved at her with the other. “I have learned an enormous amount of things in our brief conversation, well worth the herbs. Please take them with my compliments and I hope they suit your needs.”
Xena took the packet and tucked it into the bag slung at her belt. “Thanks.” She said. “Hope you sell out the rest of them.” She slowly let her eyes move around the crowd, seeing the abruptly turned heads and averted glances. Then she strolled over to where Gabrielle was standing, holding one of the baskets. “Hmph.”
“You’ve been waiting eight years to say that to someone.” Gabrielle remarked dryly. “But it was a nice comeback.”
“I thought so.”
They continued down the row, aware of the whispers at their backs.
**
Xena entered the barn, walking through the spears of golden sunset pouring through the open windows, dust particles visible in them, the inside of the space full of the smell of horses and hay. Every stall was full, and she strolled down the line of them, inspecting the animals inside with idle curiosity.
Most were decent beasts, relatively small and bred to pull the wagons of all the visitors who were selling at the market and visiting for the festivities. They were short coated, and had slightly bowed out faces, with stolid dispositions who looked back at her with the same idle interest that she looked at them with.
The stalls at the very end of the stables had more space, and deeper straw, and the animals inside them were visibly more finely bred and the tack hanging over their dividers was well made and designed for riding. Xena stopped to look into one of them, seeing a beautiful bay mare inside with a black mane and tail, and not a speck of white anywhere on her. “Hey pretty girl.”
Thus called, the mare came over to the door and pushed her muzzle into Xena’s outstretched hand without hesitation. The horse had dark, liquid eyes and was in fine condition and she spent a moment giving her scratches behind her ears before she moved along to where Spot and Tanto were already waiting for her.
Both animals were at their stall doors and their heads were outside and looking alertly at her for treats. With a faint chuckle, Xena fished inside her cloak pocket and pulled out a handful of objects. “Here. Your other buddy came back with a whole basket of these. See if you like them.” She offered one grape in each hand to each horse who snuffled and then gobbled them from her palm.
She split the remaining grapes and fed them one at a time to each animal, Tanto smacking his lips at her in obvious approval after they were done. “Like that, huh?”
The horses had been well cared for. Each stall was mucked out and had clean bedding laid down, there was water available, and a net of hay was slung over the wall and Xena counted herself satisfied that her favorites were comfortable and relatively content.
Relatively, because Tanto looked restive and he was pushing her with his head, feet shifting in the bedding. “Ah.” Xena examined the stallion. “You want to go for a ride?”
As though he understood the words, Tanto whinnied, shaking his head and scattering saliva all over her. Xena wiped her face with the edge of her cloak and unlocked the stall door. “Okay, just a short one.” She took hold of Tanto’s mane and let him move past her, then she vaulted up on his back and urged him towards the back door of the stables, which was partially open.
Delighted, he wasted no time in heading for the opening and then through it as she ducked to keep her seat and they were outside in the back paddock which was empty. The grounds had been cropped almost to the earth, grass taking on a paler color of fall but it was well raked and kept and Xena tangled her fingers in Tanto’s mane and tightened her knees along his sides.
He bucked, and she gave him a slap on the shoulder. “None of that.” She leaned forward a little and he went from a trot to a canter and then into a gallop across the space, the trees around it being thrashed by the rising wind that blew Xena’s cloak back and pushed her hair out of her eyes.
The ride felt good and they thundered up the slope, approaching the rear stone built wall of the enclosure. Xena could feel Tanto gathering himself and she let him go with it and they sailed over the fence clearing it easily and continued up the slope, along the cart path leading up to the top of the ridge.
Up and back, Xena figured, just go to the top and then come back down, then head back to meet Gabrielle and join Hercules and Iolaus for the birthday dinner after what everyone had said was a very successful day. She settled into the horse’s rhythm and enjoyed the motion as he expended his energy going uphill.
They passed harvested trees and fields, long rows of the grape vines, and thickets of nut trees and she could smell the tang of olives as they went past one of the last fields before she reached the top of the slope which would then continue on up towards the city to the right, and down into the long plateau going forward.
Tanto snorted as they reached the top and slowed as she pulled back on his mane, rearing up and thrashing the air with his forehooves as the sunset spread over them.
Xena laughed and gave him a pat on the neck, going to turn him to start back down when she looked to her left over the plateau and paused.
On the far horizon, past the outline of the city above them, she could see the fire mountain, it’s western slope tinted red in the late sun, it’s pinnacle emitting a dark utterly black smoke up into the clouds that were settling around it’s summit.
Tanto shifted his big feet and snorted.
As she watched, the crimson rays of the sun outlined the peak and the clouds and she briefly imagined that she could see them lighting up the base of the smoke pylon coming out of the top. It was almost beautiful in it’s strangeness, this mixture of light and darkness and if the weather held, she decided, she’d talk Gabrielle into coming up with her the following evening to see it.
She patted Tanto on the neck again and then tugged on his mane. “C’mon buddy. Lets get back down the hill.” She got him back onto the cart track, pausing one more moment to look up the ridge towards the city, it’s oil lamps just barely becoming visible as dusk started to fall.
The road up was empty.
Xena turned around and nudged Tanto forward, and they started down the cart path at a lesser rate, a slow, rambling one that deferred to the steepness of the slope as the stallion picked his way on the path, turning sideways in a crab like fashion resisting the pull downward.
Halfway down she saw two other horses appear and turn up the cart track, heading in her direction. Tanto immediately snorted and arched his neck, lifting up his feet a little more as he continued to almost prance down the hill. “Cut it out.” Xena told him. “No stallion shenanigans.”
As they closed in on the two horses, she recognized the riders as her former shipmates Marcos and captain Besans, on two animals they must have borrowed for a ride. She held her hand up as they closed in. “Evening.”
“Xena!” Besans waved back. “What adventure are you about?”
Xena brought Tanto to a halt as they met in a relatively flat spot on the path. “Just giving him some exercise.” She said. “You?”
Marcos leaned forward onto his saddle bow. “We’re heading up to the city. A cousin of mine that I didn’t know had come out this far sent word down, he has some business for us.” He grinned. “Something a little unconventional he said, and since we’ve an empty hold we’ll see what the reward is.”
“Going where?” Xena asked.
“Athens.” Marco promptly responded. “So it’s probably something significant.” He exhaled happily. “Our luck maintains, eh Besans?”
“It does.” The captain agreed. “Will you come with us, Xena? I’ve been thinking you a bit of a good luck charm.”
Xena edged Tanto to the far side of the path. “No, Gabrielle and I are going north, overland.” She told them. “But thanks for the offer. I’m sure you’ll make a good profit.”
“A shame.” Besans sighed. “Lets go, Marcos, we’ve got a hard ride to get up to the city before pitch dark.” He maneuvered his horse around. “Do you like our new horses? We traded the head of that serpent for them.” He grinned at Xena and gestured proudly. “They’re pretty beasts aren’t they?”
Xena moved past them to continue down the path. “They are.” She said. “Ya look good on em.” She waved and they called a farewell, as they spurred into a canter going uphill leaving her to proceed on alone back to the villa. “Too much good luck is a scary thing, Tanto. You keep that in mind.”
“Pofofts.” The stallion spluttered his lips and hip hopped to make sure she was paying attention, moving into a rapid canter as they reached the lower slope and flatter ground with the paddock and the two story villa hall before them.
**
Gabrielle strolled through the upper level of the two story hall, ostensibly browsing the last of the sellers set up who were holding out for the last possible customer before retiring to the evening’s entertainment. She kept her pace casual, letting her fingers gently slide over some beautifully knit shawls as she paused.
Lambswool, she decided, finely spun and dyed an appealing reddish gold, the wool of good quality and likely local. She pondered acquiring it, mentally imaging it draped around Cyrene’s shoulders as a gift.
Behind the rack that held the shawls two men were standing in conversation, ignoring her as they talked about the successes and failures of the day.
“Woulda done better to bring more of them shirts.” The one closer to her said, with a sigh. “Sold all of em, them sailors were after them.”
“Cold life, on the sea.” The second man said. “That double weave, they liked it.” He said. “Bring the rest of this up to the stall in the city, all them up for the wedding will want em and we can charge more.”
“True.”
The first man, tall, thin middle aged, glanced briefly at Gabrielle, then he paused to look up and down the neatly framed aisle before looking back at her.
Gabrielle regarded him with a faint smile. The other man walked over to the stands and started arranging the shawls that were left, giving her sideways glance.
“Do you shop alone, m’lady?” The first man finally asked. “It grows dark.”
“Do you use local rocks for the dye for these?” Gabrielle asked after a moments silence. “The color reminds me of the rock walls coming up from the harbor here.” She held up the bottom of the shawl that had caught her eye. “The lambswool took the dye really well.”
The first man unbent a little and came closer. “A lady who knows what she likes.” He said, in an approving tone. “I am Torbold Weaver, and you are right, we grind the light stone to make the dyes. The work is done on very small looms, by young girls whose hands can manage the delicate strands.”
“A good use to put your three little ones to.” The second man said.
“And my son to manage the shearing.” The man agreed with a smile. “I am a lucky man.” He turned back to Gabrielle. “Have you…” He paused and regarded her clothing. “Does your family own sheep also?”
“My parents raised sheep.” Gabrielle said, briefly. “They were mountain bred though, tougher fleece than this. Made for cold weather.” She held up the edge of the shawl again. “I’ve done my share of shearing. I let someone else take it from there. How much?”
The man once again glanced up and down the aisle before he answered. “Do you wish this for yourself, lady?” He said, diffidently. “if I may say, this one here compliments your complexion better.” He lifted a second scarf in sea colors.
“No, it’s a gift for my mother in law.” Gabrielle said, patiently. “She has dark hair.”
“Ah.” Both men nodded and perceptibly relaxed. “Perhaps your man would like to see some of our other wares? I could make a good deal for him?”
Now she felt a mixture of annoyance and dark humor. “I didn’t say I had a husband.” She said. “Just a mother in law. Do you want to sell this or not?” She gave him a direct look. “Stop looking for someone to come along to either bargain or pay on my behalf because I’m the shopper in my family so put your dinars on the table or I’m out of here.”
The lamps were being lit in the upper hall now that the light was fading outside, the broad shutters of the windows still thrown open wide to let the cooling air in. Gabrielle got her belt pouch untied and looked expectantly at the weaver, who finally pulled a hide covered folded parchment from his belt and consulted it.
She was making them uncomfortable, but as she jingled the coins in her hand the desire to make a sale overcame their reluctance and the man very visibly brushed aside his reservations and stepped forward with the parchment to allow the light to fall on it. “Your pardon m’lady. Let me see here what I can sell this for.”
Gabrielle glanced at it. “Two and a half dinars apiece. Okay.” She said. “So if you want, I’ll take both of those for four dinars.” She indicated the rust colored shawl and the blue green one. “I can always find someone to gift it to.” Ephiny, maybe, she mused, who had moved past the need to prove her toughness to the tribe and enjoyed a little comfort.
Torbold glanced from the parchment to her. “They are much work, lady.” He protested gently.
“Which you don’t pay for, since you make your kids do it.” Gabrielle pushed right back, with a smile. “The advantage of owning sheep and a captive workforce.”
Then the sound of hoofbeats coming quickly drifted in the window and she half turned to look outside, recognizing the approaching energy that came with it. “Yes or no? Make up your mind I’ve got a dinner to get to.” She glanced back over her shoulder at him and lifted her brows.
“Done.” The weaver put the folded parchment away and removed the two shawls from the rack, folding them neatly into square bundles. “As you say, the craft is a good living.” He admitted. “It’s a boon to offer a discount also to a lady who knows the business.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Gabrielle put down her dinars and took them, tucking them into her carry bag. Then she went over to the window and leaned on the sill to look out, watching as a tall gray horse came out of the tree line along the cart path out of the town and thundered towards the building.
Torbold came over to the window and stood next to her, watching the oncoming animal with it’s rider perched comfortably on his back, long dark hair streaming back in the wind as she moved with the horse’s motion. After a brief awkward silence he cleared his throat. “That is a beautiful animal.”
“He is.” Gabrielle agreed, in a musing tone. “With an even more beautiful rider.” She lifted her hand and waved at the oncoming pair, aware that the weaver was regarding her with a sideways look. “Now, I’d have fallen off way up the hill and would be rolling down like a pill bug covered in dirt by now.”
The weaver watched in silence for a moment, then he smiled. “I as well.” He said. “Myself I will stick to sheep.” He turned and made his way back to his racks without further comment.”
Gabrielle chuckled softly under her breath. She leaned forward on the sill and enjoyed the sight of Xena releasing her hold on Tanto’s mane and returning the wave with both hands, a visible grin on her face as she obviously savored the almost uncontrolled motion.
They reached the stockade fence and Tanto sailed over it, landing on the leaf covered ground and continuing towards the barn in a collected canter, tossing his head and letting out a neigh.
“What’s up?” Iolaus appeared at her shoulder and peered out. “Oh! Is there trouble?” He asked. “What’s going on?”
“Just Xena riding for the Hades of it.” Gabrielle reassured him. “Probably took that boy out to get the fidgets out of him.” She watched the two until they disappeared into the barn and then turned and leaned against the sill. “Everything going all right?”
“It is, matter of fact.” Iolaus turned around and leaned next to her. “That whole thing this morning worked out great and no one can squabble over anything. Now we just have to get through the dinner and we’re done.” He said. “Which reminds me.”
Gabrielle bit off a grin. “Yeees?” She was fairly sure what was coming. “You’re going to tell one of Herc’s stories tonight right?” She folded her arms and crossed her boots at the ankle, idly watching the remaining merchants gathering in small clumps as the room started to empty out.
Iolaus nodded. “I am. But it would be really cool if you could do one after that of Xena’s.” He eyed her cautiously. “If it’s not going to piss her off.”
Gabrielle’s eyes caught a bit of the light from the lamps, turning their soft green into hazel. “I think she’s expecting it.” She said, after a pause. “And really, she’s used to it now.” She added, then looked thoughtfully at Iolaus. “What is it you want me to let these people know about her?”
He chewed his lower lip for a few moments in silence, thinking.
“I mean, I’ve got a pretty wide range to pick from.” Gabrielle added, dryly. “And given what the people around here think of women pretty much any of them is going to be something of a surprise.”
“Yeah that’s true.” He said softly. “I guess it didn’t really..”
“You’re a guy.”
“Well, yeah I mean…I don’t know Gabrielle I didn’t think about it that way.” He admitted. “Just that I know he’s going to suffer through my telling his, and this would give him something to look forward to and.. not feel like he’s such an… oddity.”
“Oddity?” Gabrielle looked at him.
“You know what I mean.”
Did she actually? She felt like she really didn’t comprehend totally where Hercules was coming from. She did get that his best friend wanted to do something he felt would make him happy though and after all, she was a storyteller and the ask wasn’t really any burden.
She bumped her shoulder with his in silent understanding.
“Okay. I’ll surprise you then. I think I have a few you haven’t heard yet.” Gabrielle assured him and then pushed off the window sill. “I’m confident I can distract the crowd for you guys and if that doesn’t work Xena will come up with something.”
“Ha ha.” Iolaus laughed hesitantly.
“Have you ever seen her breathe fire?”
“I don’t… think so?”
“She can also juggle torches.” Gabrielle concluded. “So don’t worry about it. We got ya.” She spotted Xena coming in the door, combing her fingers through her windswept hair and out of her eyes as she walked directly through the room towards where they were standing, ignoring all the looks being thrown in her direction.
“Thanks.” Iolaus exhaled. “I think. Okay so, half a candlemark up in the dining room?”
“You got it.”
Iolaus escaped between the stalls near the wall and headed for the wide open doors Xena had just entered through as Xena herself came to a halt next to Gabrielle.
“What’s up?” She asked without hesitation.
Gabrielle leaned closer to her and sniffed her shoulder. “Did you ride through that lemon grove?”
“Yes.” Xena removed three objects from her belt pouch and commenced juggling them. “Figured a few extra wouldn’t hurt.”
Gabrielle gave her sleeve a tug. “Lets go get ready for dinner. You can help me pick what story to tell.”
Xena paused in her juggling. “Are you paying for our dinner?” She asked, with a bemused tone in her voice. “That what Io was here asking?”
“C’mon. I’ll explain while we dress.”
**
Their room was quiet, and with the shutters propped open to the breeze cool and full of the scents of the banquet being cooked and the sounds of musicians warming up.
“These are pretty.” Xena was examining the recently purchased shawls in the pile of things Gabrielle had emptied out of her carry bag. “Really soft.” She went over and pulled two bundles out of her own saddle bag, tossing one over onto the couch next to Gabrielle then sitting down with the other one. “Here. I picked us up some inside boots from that leather guy. Got a new bridle too.”
“Oh, thank you! I marched all the way from Amphipolis with my other pair.” Gabrielle was standing in her under wraps, regarding the contents of her saddlebag. “What do you think, Xe? Should I wear my Amazon regalia to this shindig?”
Xena looked over her shoulder as she unwrapped her bundle and put on the new footwear. “I doubt anyone except Herc and Io would know what the Hades they were.” She remarked. “But sure. Too bad you don’t have one of those damn masks with you to really make a scene.”
“I banned the masks, remember?” Gabrielle chuckled. She pulled out the winter leathers she’d worn for the conclave and shook them out, setting them down along with the leather pouch holding her regalia. “Just something a little different.”
The three lemons Xena had snatched from the grove were sitting on the counter near the fire, and the warmth was casting the faintest scent from them into the room. The oil lamps had already been lit when they’d entered, and outside in the hall they could hear the sound of footsteps heading away towards the gathering hall.
“Which story is Io going to tell?” Xena asked suddenly.
“He didn’t say.” Gabrielle slid into the leather tunic. “I’m going to leave the shirt off. It’s going to end up being warm in there tonight I bet.” She tightened the laces, the oil lamp casting reflections on her bare arms. “Why?”
“Just curious.” Xena fished inside her saddlebag and got out the silver Amazon token, fastening it just below the collar on the blood red light short cape around her shoulders that complimented the embroidered tunic she had on. “Maybe wait to see what it is before you pick one.”
“These are really nice, Xe.” Gabrielle finished pulling her new boots on and came over to sit down next to her. “That’s not a bad idea. I might also see what’s pissing me off by that point the most.” She slid her rank markers over her head and fastened the clasp. “Like what do I want to put in front of them. You know?”
Xena rested her wrist on Gabrielle’s shoulder. “Hm.”
“Wide choice, right?”
Xena tilted her head back and regarded the ceiling for a long, pensive moment.
“I’m kind of going back and forth between the defense of Amphipolis and the defeat of Posiedon’s daughter.” Gabrielle concluded. “Have a preference?”
“The final battles you mean.”
“Yeah.”
Xena eyed her. “You’re going to go through the whole Sword of War part?”
“Kinda have to.”
“So, military strategist versus god meddled mess.”
“That was also strategic, hon.” Gabrielle said. “Just monster monsters versus human monsters. You still had to figure out how to get us out of it.”
“The first one was more of a group effort.” Xena said.
“You can tell yourself that, sure.” Gabrielle looked affectionately at her.
“You helped!” Xena protested. “You, Jessan, Amazons!”
“It was still your plan.”
“True.” Xena had to admit. “Monster monster’ll make a bigger impact.” She concluded somewhat reluctantly. “If that’s what we’re looking for.”
Gabrielle leaned over and gave her a kiss on the shoulder. “I love you.” She said simply. “I love how we can just have this conversation about the total weirdness that is our lives.”
Xena rubbed her face with one hand. “Yeah.” She said, in a somewhat mournful tone. “At least we can put the weird to use. C’mon.” She said, standing up and pulling Gabrielle up with her. “Lets leave the weapons here. It’s close enough to come grab em if we need to.”
“Sounds like a another one of your great plans.”
“Ugh.”
**
The large banqueting hall was resplendent with swathes of gaily colored draped bunting on the walls, and crafted wooden ornaments hanging off the lamps. The tables were likewise draped and what was likely the last of the season’s flowers were literally everywhere, in bowls at the center of the tables and draped along the main, long trestle at the front of the room.
Xena blinked at they entered at the assault on her senses as the mixture of floral and oil and food and spiced, hot wine hit her alongside the enthusiastic sitars from a short quarter round platform in the corner.
There were already a lot of people inside, milling around the tables looking at the table covers for seating, the small scrolls at each place, jockeying to see who was at each location to judge where they had landed in the influence rolls.
A short, tow headed servant had intercepted them on entry and was leading them to the head table, where perhaps twenty people could sit, on either side of a larger chair that was obviously intended for Hercules at the very center.
In front of the head table was a square, shorter platform that was covered in cloth obscured bundles, evidently gifts from the strips of colorful ribbons of cloth that held them closed. A steady stream of people were coming past, adding to the pile.
“I get where Herc is coming from on this.” Xena said briefly.
“I bet you do.” Gabrielle ducked past a chair to follow the servant to the table, where they were led past already seated townsfolk to the center and were seated to the left of the big chair, side by side.
The table was about three quarters full, and now the tables were starting to be seated as everyone got their eye full of the positioning and who was being seated where.
Xena extended her legs out and crossed them, leaning one elbow on the chair arm. “I need earplugs.”
“It’ll quiet down.” Gabrielle glanced down the table, studying the people to their immediate right. Some were vaguely familiar and she knew she’d seen at least a few at the market earlier in the day. Most of the seats were taken by men, but there were three women, each seated next to a male counterpart, dressed very well, and displaying beautifully jeweled ears and fingers that reflected the oil lamp’s light as the gestured.
The windows were open but as she suspected it was a little warm in the room already, and Gabrielle was glad she’d decided to wear what she had as the cool breeze brushed over her skin regardless of the furtive stares in her direction.
She was long past used to that. “Actually.” She said. “A mask would have been hilarious.”
“You’re such a troublemaker.”
“Takes one to know one.” Gabrielle accepted a fluted glass full of some pale liquid. “Thank you.” She said to the server, who gave her a nod, and then offered a similar glass to Xena. “This is that lemon stuff.”
“So I smell.” Xena took a sip of the aperitif. “Tangy.”
Down the wall behind them, on the right hand side there was a nondescript door that now opened, letting Hercules and Iolaus emerge and come down the table to take their seats. “Evening friends.” Hercules greeted them as he settled into his chair. “How was the rest of your day?”
“Nice.” Xena responded. “A lot of shopping got done.” She mused. “A lot of assumptions were adjusted.”
Hercules waved away the lemon aperitif and pointed to the wine cup on the table. “What does that mean?”
“I told you about it.” Iolaus broke in leaning on the right arm of his chair. “The whole thing about women.”
“Still?” Hercules seemed surprised. “I sent out word to everyone not to mess around with you.” He frowned. “Didn’t you tell them Iolaus?”
“I did.” Iolaus responded promptly. ‘It’s not the usual thing. Usually people just want to challenge Xena and they get their ass kicked and I absolutely warned everyone not to do that but this is just… “ He exhaled. “They’re just not used to women who are.. Um… independent.”
Hercules sat back in his chair, ignoring the cup of red wine that had just been adroitly poured for him, silent, his eyes moving back and forth but somewhat unfocused. “Oh.” He finally said, in a tone of dawning understanding. “Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t be. It’s all pretty traditional around here.” He glanced at Xena. “Sorry. But that’s why they all want us to get married.” He pointed at Iolaus and then himself. “It scandalous to them.”
Xena drew breath to say something, then paused and exhaled, as Gabrielle gently closed her fingers around her wrist.
“It’s fine.” Gabrielle chuckled softly. “It’s more funny than anything else honestly. It’s not been a problem. We get our point across and move along with our day.”
They paused as servers started to circulate with small trays of nibblements, and a whole tray was placed on their table in front of where Iolaus and Hercules were sitting. Across the room the musicians moderated their tune to something softer and less strident, a young woman in a white robe stepping up next to them and beginning to quietly sing along.
“It’s good for them.” Hercules concluded, leaning forward to take hold of his cup of wine. “A lesson that how it is here is not how it is in other places. Most of them have lived on the land here for half a dozen generations.” He took a sip of the wine. “They don’t travel much.”
“Their loss.” Xena said. “I got a chance to ride up the road to the top of the ridge before.” She added. “Is all that smoke from the mountain across the way normal?” She asked in a casual tone.
Hercules looked at her. “What do you mean all that?” He answered slowly. “Does it have spurts.. yeah. Periodic wisps of grayish smoke, that’s normal.”
Xena leaned a little closer and her voice lost volume. “There were clouds over the top of it and a black column of smoke was going up into them.” She murmured. “Not very wispy.”
Hercules studied her face, those steady pale blue eyes pinned on him with that underlying comprehension that belied the casual calm of her words. “Maybe we better take a ride up there in the morning.” He said, on an exhale. “No that doesn’t sound wispy.”
Xena leaned back and finished off her lemon aperitif. “Maybe it was just a momentary thing.”
“Maybe.” He said. “At any rate we can’t see anything tonight, so we might as well just enjoy the festivities.”
“Might as well.”
**