"Divided We Fall"

By Joolz Paupe

Disclaimers:

The characters of Xena, Gabrielle, as well as anyone else who may look or sound even remotely familiar, all belong to MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. All others are the creation of the author. No copyright infringements were intended.

Sex/Violence Warning: This story depicts scenes of violence and a loving friendship between Xena and Gabrielle. (Gen.)

History Comment: Real places and characters in history have been taken from the timeline relating to this story.

Synopsis: Gabrielle realises that the new generation know very little about Xena when some students write stories about the Warrior Princess as a plundering murderer. In order for them to know the real Xena, Gabrielle attempts to tell them about a mission to rescue Caesar's illegitimate child in Greece and how a personal battle erupted between the Warrior Princess and the Battling Bard when their friendship was threatened by the greater good. By telling the students this story, they can experience the true love Xena had for Gabrielle and the people of Greece.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to Kevin Smith. A genuinely wonderful man who will always live on in our hearts.

Comments, feedback, and constructive criticism may be sent to varia@tiscali.co.uk. Thank you.

She was stood in Rome. Concealed in the huge shadow of a stone column, the pretty, young woman watched the fight, alone and afraid. She was taut with anxiety, her hands clenched tight around the smooth pillar of rock.

Metal rang out as swords clashed. She held her breath as they battled on, her lips parted in slight anticipation.

They were fighting to the death and she knew that in this battle, there could only be one victor. The warrior woman before her was on the offensive. She moved boldly with the divine strength of an ox, her sword thrusting forward dangerously, driving her opponent back up against a tall pillar of Rome with her super mortal strength. The young Roman general had been restrained, his back pressed up against the vertical support. A combination of fear and wrath paled his face. Mysteriously, he alone had become this Greek huntress’ prey.

The young woman in the shadow gazed on, tears swelled in her eyes. It seemed that the fight was going to be over sooner than she had foreseen. It was obvious that this abstruse warrior woman, her head framed in a protective covering of leather and studs was to triumph.

But somehow, the Roman had pulled back. He’d shifted his stance enough to manipulate her threat. Suddenly, she was placed on the defensive. The Roman lunged his sword toward her dynamically with as much immense skill as the tall warrior woman.

Their combat was feverish. Their strength faded fast. The Roman stumbled and he went down, the point of the warrior woman’s sword accompanied him as she held it breathlessly against his throat. Their eyes were locked in unison as she straddled over him. She sensed his fear and was moving in for the kill.

"Do it woman, whatever your motives, and be done with it!" the Roman general spat.

The warrior woman pulled back her sword and without hesitation, plunged the long blade into his stomach.

The young woman in the shadow sobbed uncontrollably with heartache as the Roman’s armoured head fell back and hit the bloodstained ground. The killer withdrew her sword and admired the Roman blood that trickled down the length of her blade. Her bright blue eyes shone wide with excitement at the kill before her. She gazed at the rest of his legion, laid out on the ground along with her own army. "For those of you still alive today," she called, "don’t be grateful for your lives, for I will return and take my vengeance on Rome. Make sure you inform Caesar that I will kill every last Roman in Greece with my bare hands if I have to."

The young girl in the dim light wept aloud with convulsive gasps, then dashed away from the carnage. The warrior woman turned and glanced at her briefly, then turned back, the sword in her hand mottled with Roman blood. She raised it high. "Let it be known, that any Roman who dares to challenge Xena: the mighty Warrior Princess, shall be certain to meet his destiny at the tip of my sword."

Gabrielle winces and rolls up the scroll carefully. "It’s beautifully written, Rhea," she acknowledges as she gazes out toward the small bunch of attentive students before her. "It’s very alive. But if you kill off all the characters so early on, your story will soon be as dead as they."

Rhea’s smile drains from her face as Gabrielle passes back the scroll.

"A story has to be moving. It needs to have a meaning, a purpose, or there is no reason for anyone to read on. We have to make the reader worry about the characters we bring forward. Even if it be Xena herself."

A student raises his hand. "But Xena was a mighty Warrior Princess. She killed most of the Olympian Gods. How can we bring distress to a character whose nature was so strong?"

Gabrielle smiles knowingly. "Xena may have appeared strong on the outside, but inside, she was just like you and I. She possessed love, compassion and pain. But most of all, the willpower to put right her past. Xena dedicated her life to others - even in death."

The students fall silent and Gabrielle gazes into the eyes of each of them. They failed to see the real beauty in Xena.

"Can you tell us about her?" Rhea pipes up. Gabrielle gazes at the other students. They were all much younger than she, and so naive. "Did she really beat you and throw you over a cliff?" Rhea asks again. Gabrielle’s mouth opens slightly, but shock fails her words.

Another student pipes up. "She didn’t beat her, she was dragged to the top of the cliff by Xena’s own horse. Then she..."

"PLEASE - STOP." Gabrielle calls in horror. The students fall silent and stare at one another. Gabrielle rests shamefully in a chair. She was deeply hurt inside. "Is that all you know about Xena and I? she finally mumbles. The students stoop their heads low. What had become of Xena’s reputation? What did Xena mean to this new generation? "I’ll tell you a story," Gabrielle finally announces. "Not one of a Warrior Princess, but of the woman I knew and loved." Gabrielle closes her eyes and remembers the setting well. The breathtaking scenery, the warm sun...and her beautiful friend’s face.

A shimmering, azure lake that lay deep in a pastured valley was the ultimate fantasy for relaxation.

Soaking up the haze of the midmorning sun that beat down upon a Pennine of peaks, Xena slides breathlessly into the large expanse of cold, inland water to bathe. It was tranquillity perfected. No warlords, no Romans and no inconvenience---just the freedom of agitation.

"Hey, Xena," calls Gabrielle reaching into the wicker baby basket beside the lake. "Have you seen what your precious baby daughter has done to my scroll?"

Slowly immersing her head beneath the cool, sky-blue water, a rise of streaming bubbles echo around the Warrior Princess, encircling her in absolute silence. Complete solitude encompasses her body as she submerges aimlessly beneath the glassy, horizontal summit. It was the extravagant mental image in the power of her imagination that always brought her back this---her own personal paradise.

Resurfacing the calm, Xena senses the luminous rays of the sun penetrating her face, bringing a feeling of pleasure that warms her body throughout. This surely was the ultimate fantasy. This unspoilt landscape was her Garden of Eden, her place of bliss, her own divine abode---

"Hey," stresses Gabrielle once more. She stands perched on the edge of the lakeside possessing a partly soggy, torn scroll dangling in one hand. "You did that on purpose," she emphasises waving the chewed parchment into view. "You deliberately dipped your head so that you couldn’t hear what I have to say, didn’t you?"

Keeping her eyes tightly closed, Xena glides gracefully along the still surface, the ripples of decreasing circles skimming the sun sparkled body of transparent rainwater that had collected over the winter months. "Sorry, Gabrielle. I must have placed Eve adjacent to your scroll bag,"

Xena replies with little repentance. "I promise I’ll be more careful in future."

"You know," Gabrielle continues incredulously, "if I thought there was just a slight expression of remorse in your apology, I could have forgiven you both. It’s not fair, Xena. I once caught you using my scrolls when nature called and now your daughter is using them to teethe. Doesn’t anyone respect my work around here?"

Rotating onto a backstroke, Xena decides to distract her rather distressed friend. "What’s your ultimate fantasy, Gabrielle?"

If anything could bring a stunned silence over her friend, it was a question like that.

Throwing her useless scroll into the trees, Gabrielle raises the baby girl from her woven dwellings and lowers herself to sit on the grassy verge lining the lake. Placing Eve upon her knee, she ponders over such an obscure question that sought an answer interrogating the most precious and private pictures of her mind. It became a long enough process of meditation for Gabrielle that would allow Xena to appreciate the still absence of sound once more.

Suddenly Gabrielle spoke, her expression filled with stimulation. "I think that my ultimate fantasy would have to be a Prince in shining amour coming to my rescue to deliver me into his kingdom. I’d become Princess Gabrielle---or even better---Queen Gabrielle. I’d rule his kingdom with he at my side and together, we’d make sweet romance under a budding apple tree---no---a pink blossom tree---"

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Xena submerges into a deep, rude absence once more. So much for tranquillity with Gabrielle’s eternal fantasy impairing the atmosphere.

With babe in hands, Gabrielle rises to her feet. Maybe her ultimate fantasy would be to have Xena take her seriously once in a while. "Come on, Eve. I’ll show you how you’re supposed to use these scrolls---properly."

Gabrielle rests comfortably beneath a large, shady tree with Eve plucking restlessly at the cool grass beside her. She begins to set down in words a poem resembling the new image stored in her mind. "Xena. If you don’t hurry, you’ll make us late," she calls as she waits patiently for her friend to enjoy her ultimate fantasy to it’s full climax.

The warrior releases a discontented sigh. "Hurry here, hurry there. Stop whining, Gabrielle, and relax will you. This is why I bought you to this---this---beautiful landscape you’re not looking at."

Gabrielle continues to scribble under great concentration. "Someone has to whine around here. Your problem is you’re too casual---"

Xena pitches her eyes skyward once more. This called for another dip of secluded silence. The warrior was in no hurry to rush anywhere today. The rising temperature of the summer air grew fiercer as the early morning sun sailed across a deep, Mediterranean coloured sky, merging toward an intense midday heat.

Wiping her moist brow, Gabrielle finally gazes in admiration at the finished composition of verse upon her scroll. Inhaling deeply, she prepares to recite the stanza to baby Eve, but an image of perfection causes her to glance around her roll of parchment in secret wonder. On the edge of the lakeside, Xena has finally departed her ultimate fantasy to dry out her remarkable stature in the exposure of the warm breeze. Gabrielle smiles with a slight twinkle in her eye. To most men, that would be a fantasy on it’s own.

Dropping her finished scroll to the floor, Gabrielle swipes her hairbrush from one of her shoulder bags and strides over to meet Xena. Kneeling comfortably to her rear, she gently strokes her fingers through the warrior’s straight, dark hair. Admiringly, she gazes as it’s body and shine cascades over Xena’s firm, sun-bronzed shoulders. "Your hair is so beautiful, Xena. You really should use it to it’s full potential." Wringing out the excess water, Gabrielle sets about styling her friends mass of untidy strands.

"Keep it simple, Gabrielle. I don’t want any of those complicated plaits that you like."

Exhaling a frustrated sigh, Gabrielle surrenders Xena’s wet hair to drip down the breadth of her broad back. "Xena. You really should experiment more with your hair, you know."

"I’m a warrior, Gabrielle," Xena replied in rising irritation. "I wear my hair to suit the job that I do."

With the aid of her hairbrush, Gabrielle gradually begins to comb thoroughly through Xena’s

web of tangles. "Well, you’re not a fighting warrior today. When you decide that you want to confront the Macedonian governor in an attempt to locate an illegitimate heir born to Julius Caesar in Greece, you should make some sort of an impression on him---like me for instance. When I confront General Brutus, he will see that I’m genuinely serious about bringing justice to this naive, uncorrupted child when these Roman’s finally forge to locate one of Rome’s most influential children."

Xena raises an eyebrow. "Really? Well, I can assure you that one of your intricate plaits won’t save the day, Gabrielle. It’s true that General Brutus has come to Greece to locate Rome’s possible future inheritor, but we have to convince him that the child must not be returned to Rome. It’s bad enough that most of Greece would want this infant put to death, but if Brutus locates him and takes him to their empire, he can only strengthen Caesar’s reign by creating another brutal leader to violate and conquer should Octavius fail to bear a son. Greece can never become a province of it’s own should he follow Caesar’s rules, but maybe---just maybe, with the right guidance this child could be our hope. Upon Octavius' death, he could be sent to Rome as their new heir and future liberator of Greece."

"Very clever, Xena. I sense your logic but please, will you keep your head still."

Completely ignoring her request, Gabrielle begins to twist segments of Xena’s hair around her fingers in an almost obsessive manner.

"Xena," Gabrielle protests impatiently as the transforming warrior leans forward to pull on her sturdy boots. "I can’t do this if you don’t keep still."

Not wishing to tolerate anymore fuss from Gabrielle, Xena rapidly pulls her head away from her fidgety hands. "Gabrielle, leave it out okay. I haven’t got time for you to mess around with my hair, just a simple headband will do. The governor of Macedonia and one of Rome’s generals are at loggerheads and that could create a war in Greece over one single child. There is little friendship in the world as it is, least between equals. Whilst Governor Gaius stands with our wishes to keep the child hidden in Greece, General Brutus wants the child sent to Rome. If the two can’t agree, Governor Gaius is going to forge a Macedonian army to protect Caesar’s heir which may provoke Brutus to fight until the child is located, so a little undue haste might not be so bad after all."

Gabrielle shakes her head despondently. She strides over to her bag and digs out the required hair accessory. "Well, you weren’t afraid to waste time in that lake. What was it you said? Stop whining and relax, will you. Informal impressions are very important, you know," she calls back.

Completing her warrior outfit, Xena rises to her feet. She stands tall and slides her polished sword into its sheath. Glancing over her shoulder, she watches as Gabrielle flicks her fingers through her perfectly cropped hairstyle as though she were Aphrodite. "Yeah---you look very nice," Xena remarks ironically.

Gabrielle rises to her feet and gives herself a final top to toe examination, making certain that she is trimly suitable for the mission ahead. Quite satisfied with her amazonian leather bodice and leather trimmed tan skirt complimented by brown knee boots, Gabrielle strides over to Xena whose astonished gaze at her latest scrollwork causes rising concern.

"What’s the matter? Don’t you like it? Is it too sentimental for you?" asks Gabrielle rather uneasily.

Xena swiftly rolls up the parchment, desperately attempting to hide her concern.

"Don’t you understand it? I can interpret it for you if you like," Gabrielle suggests, reaching for the scroll in the tight clasp of Xena’s hand.

"No---no, it’s fine---it’s very nice," the warrior stalls. "I’ll put it in a safe place for you."

Gabrielle smiles appreciatively. "It’s not like you to show any interest in my scrollwork."

"Yeah---well, like you said," Xena agrees submissively. "Maybe I should respect your favourite pastime a little more. After all, you do look after Eve a lot for me." Glaring at her daughter, Xena stoops low and places the half nibbled scroll into Gabrielle’s bag. Some things were better left unsaid.

Securing Eve safely into her fur lined capoose, Gabrielle begins to strap the infant onto Xena’s back before they mount their horses. "So what’s our strategy this time, Xena? What intricate plan do you suggest to stop two of Caesar’s men going into battle over some rumour regarding a heir to Rome’s Empire?"

"Stratagem is an artifice in war, Gabrielle. A skill you virtually know nothing about. Therefore, the only device you can possibly use right now is persuasion. Roman’s are dealers. They’ll talk to anyone who can present them with a decent trade, whoever they are."

Gabrielle pauses, then ponders for a moment. "Persuasion---hmm---I think I can do that. I’m sure I can use my charm to make them see that Caesar’s inheritor should remain in Greece; I mean, most Romans hated Caesar enough to see his reign end without a heir."

"It’s going to take more than charm to convince these Romans, Gabrielle. No army is weak enough to surrender when a body of men are armed and ready for warfare. Until I have proof, I don’t believe there is a heir to the Roman empire and hopefully, if I can prove that, we can stop this war before it starts. If Rome’s legions are coming into Greece in search of his son, they’d better get ready for a big disappointment."

"Are you saying that it’s all just a rumour?" asks Gabrielle.

"I’m saying that if this child’s exists, I want to find it before they do." Xena lifts herself to mount her faithful mare, Argo. Sitting tall, she spies all the baggage surrounding Gabrielle's arms. They gaze silently at one another. "And just what is all that you’re taking with you?"

Gabrielle pulls her movable supplies onto her shoulders to comfort her hands. "Oh, you know; this and that," she smiles sweetly.

"No---I don’t know," Xena replies impatiently. It was becoming more obvious that Gabrielle's market bargains were growing to a considerable amount.

Mounting her horse, Gabrielle gazes at Xena. "First stop---Amphipolis---right."

"Sure thing. We’ll leave Eve with my mother for a few days, then our next destination, Neapolis, where the Roman fortress stands."

Swinging her bags over her shoulders, she pulls up her horse alongside a patient Argo.

Xena, once again, glares at the baggage surrounding Gabrielle.

"So tell me, Gabrielle. What do you have in those bags---apart from your precious scrolls, that is?"

Silence.

"Oh, just a few things that I pick up from the markets that we pass through."

"Yeah---like what?" asks the warrior.

"Well once, there was this stall that sold the most beautiful charms---"

Xena quirks her lips. Sometimes, when Gabrielle spoke, you would think she was reciting one of her legendary tales from her scrolls.

"So," interrupts Xena rudely, "what sort of merchandise do you buy from these beautiful charm stalls?"

A silent spell casts over Gabrielle before she answers.

"Well---"

Taking a deep breath and preparing for the inevitable reaction, Gabrielle presents her answer with as little emotion as possible.

"I once bought a horse shoe."

Silence.

Xena twists her head backward in disbelief. "A horse shoe---you bought a horseshoe. Gabrielle, our horses wear eight between them. Why on earth would you want to waste our money on another horseshoe?"

"There---you see." Sudden emotion fills Gabrielle's expression once more. "This is why I don’t tell you anything. You always have to spoil the moment. The money within my pouch belongs to me. You said so yourself."

"Yeah, well I thought you’d spend it wisely. Not waste it on some old, twisted horseshoe."

"Look," continued Gabrielle defensively. "This horseshoe holds a magical property. I was informed by the stall holder---who was a very nice old gentleman as a matter of fact---that it withholds the soundness of body. I was afraid that things would happen to my health if I didn’t buy it."

Xena creases her brow, then ponders for a moment before revealing her interpretation of this so called gentleman’s quote. "Yeah---right. Think about it, Gabrielle. Soundness of body. Of course a horseshoe can bring soundness of body---if its attached to the pounding hoof of a horses body, that is. It’s a riddle. I thought you of all should have caught on to that one." Xena smiles to herself. It was rare that she should understand any sort of riddle---seeing as she detested them due to the fact that she could never grasp the meaning of jumbling words to test ones ingenuity.

"Okay," blurts Gabrielle protestingly. "What about the shawl that I brought from that old lady back in Prusa."

Xena laughs heartily, recalling the memory of the shambled, square of fabric that lapsed over Gabrielle's shoulders. "Oh come, Gabrielle. A shawl. When would you ever wear a shawl?

"That shawl had been woven to the greatest of her capability, Xena. She had worked extremely hard to achieve such a fine specimen of knitwear."

"Gabrielle," Xena remonstrated, "she was an old lady whose poor eyesight had caused her to achieve a lot of loops and dropped stitches. You bought it out of pity for her and you know it."

"But---but you gave it to Argo, Xena. You gave my shawl to a horse. Do you know how that made me feel?"

"Well---" continued Xena excusably, "it was a cold night. It kept her warm. It’s not as though it fitted your image. Anyway---I thought you had a regard for everything."

Gabrielle scowls, making Xena aware of her resilience. "I do. But she ate it. Your horse ate my shawl. Not your shawl, not Argo’s shawl; my shawl. That I bought with my own coin, may I add. So I refuse to show you any more things that I buy."

"Right. So you’re just going to hoard them all in your bags. Whatever." The warrior smiles to herself. She knew full well that Argo would nibble the shawl. She would rather dispose of the disgusting garment than tell her friend how ridiculous she looked in the tatty piece of wool.

Eve releases a cute gurgle, almost as if she were creating a diversion to herself. "Hey, Evie,"

Xena smiles affectionately as she acknowledges her daughter. "Is my baby girl hungry?"

Gabrielle grunts agreeably as she listens to her empty stomach groan. "Is she hungry? I could eat a horse---sorry---no offence guys." She strokes the long thick hair growing down her horses solid neck.

Xena grins, comprehending the importance of keeping Gabrielle fed. She liked her food and was quite a commendable cook considering they only used outdoor fires and a few pans. "Well, when we arrive in Amphipolis, I’ll get mother to arrange today’s speciality for lunch in her tavern before we leave. She’s good at that."

Gabrielle agrees amorously. "I think that she’s just so pleased to see us all, she likes to send us off on a full stomach. It’s a mother thing---you know." She glances at Xena.

The warrior responds to her statement with a side long glare, perceiving the nature of Gabrielle’s words as she determines when Eve’s next feed will be.

Gabrielle smiles at Xena’s thoughtful expression, knowing full well the warrior has always been afraid at being represented as slushy. "It’s okay, Xena. You’re are permitted to express a deep affection for your daughter without lacking the strength of your character."

"I know," the warrior grimaces. "I just don’t want to come across as a mother hen---you know---like my mother."

"Xena, you are a wonderful mother to Eve. She worships you no matter how you play your role."

Xena reminisces back to her childhood in Amphipolis. She too had grown into a young woman with the absence of a father figure to guide and protect her from life’s harmful dangers. She had to endure the discomfort of sensing her mothers loneliness on those long, dark nights, aware that the other children had fathers in their homes. It had made her more determined to be the protector of their residence. To rid her mother from life’s purging when their village should render to any outside threats. But when the village was invaded by a warlord, she retreated to the hills, rallied and counterattacked, leading the village and her family to victory. But, it was the taste for revenge that she got out of this that drove her too far. The responsibility had become too great after the murder of her younger brother, Lyceus, to the warlord, Cortese, and Xena became obsessed with revenge, falling into the rhythms of this distasteful lifestyle. Her system of protection had gone over the top. Eventually, she fell into a cycle of violence and revenge and she left and rampaged the countryside with a tyrant warlord named Draco, leading many a bloody battle across Greece. She lost all respect from her mother and the other villagers when she turned to killing innocent people to gain power through greed.

"Xena." Gabrielle breaks into her thoughts. "You’re lost in your imagination. Anything wrong?"

She smiles back at Gabrielle, the friend who had stood by her and guided her away from her distasteful dark past. "I’m fine, Gabrielle. Just fine. Come on, we’d best pick up the pace a bit. If we’re to eat in Amphipolis we need plenty of time---considering how much you normally consume."

"Hey, Gabrielle protests, "you practically finished that whole roast chicken yourself in the last village---and the side vegetables too."

"That’s not fair, Gabrielle. I missed a meal. I deserved all of that fowl."

Gabrielle lets out a defeatist laugh. "You were hungry, weren’t you? I was lucky to get a leg, I suppose."

"I was ravenous. Chasing a wild pig around a market all day is not my idea of passing time."

"But someone had to do it, Xena. It was destroying the booths and stands sending earthenware and fruit everywhere."

"I could’ve walked away. It was you who felt pity on those peasant workers. They should have been more careful."

"I thought it would have given you the chance to experience the adventure of Atalanta and the wild boar." Gabrielle bursts into a timid giggle. "You were covered in rotten vegetables and when you came back you carried that stench for miles of pig---"

"Hey, Gabrielle," Xena interrupts, playfully raising an eyebrow. "Not in front of Eve."

Gabrielle raises her hand to her mouth as Eve turns to gaze at her from her fur lined capoose, raising her tiny arm to wave. Gabrielle responds with a twiddle of her fingers.

"So how did you eventually get that wild pig in its pen? It seemed like you were gone ages."

Xena remains reticent, almost reluctant to explain her affairs with a smelly farm hog. "You saw the state I came back in," she mumbles. I smelt so much like a pig---he thought I was one. In the end, I just sat in the pen and he came to me. I almost thought he was going to mate at one point."

"Oh." Gabrielle falls silent as she gazes at the warrior. "So there were no heroics then, just the aroma of romance and pig swill in the air."

"You got it in one." Xena turns a sidelong glance at Gabrielle. "You could have done that, you know. Then maybe I could sit with Eve once in a while."

"You must be joking," Gabrielle answers rather prudish. "This outfit takes ages to dry." She tugs at her short tan skirt in an attempt to pull out the creases.

Xena looks on sardonically. "You’re practically wearing next to nothing as it is. Most of the slop would’ve been on your skin."

Gabrielle squirms at the thought of pig stool and liquidated, putrid vegetables embalming her delicate skin. "Can we change the subject, please. Otherwise you’ll be eating today’s special on your own again."

"Fine with me," Xena smiles.

Picking up a faster pace, they proceed toward the direction of Xena’s birth town, tiny Eve giggling contentedly as she is jogged up and down at a steady trot upon the warrior’s strong back.

About a mile ahead of them lay the landmark of woodland identifying the boundary of Amphipolis, it’s significant line of trees being used as a fixed marker.

"There she is," points the warrior. "Home."

Gabrielle sighs contentedly. "Amphipolis has such an aura about it. You can hear the village women in the crop fields in song from up here."

"Come on, Eve. Let’s go and see your grandmother."

"Do you think Cyrene will be pleased when she knows we’re leaving Eve with her again?"

"She’ll love it, Gabrielle. She’s already lost one grandchild she never even had the chance to meet, remember."

Gabrielle falls silent. Still sensing the responsibility for the impregnation of her half mortal child,

Hope by the evil Dahak, god of darkness. By encouraging her daughter to live amongst mortals she brought about the death of Xena’s son Solan. For that, she would remain eternally responsible for the crime of motherly love. Having to kill her young daughter with poison, then risking her life to throw her reincarnation into the fire of the god of darkness himself, was the only course of action to rid the way of Dahak’s entrance to the world.

Xena glances pitifully at her troubled friend. "I’m sorry, Gabrielle. I never meant it to sound the way it did. There’s lots of things we regret about Solan’s death. You know I don’t blame you any more, don’t you?"

Gabrielle smiles, but refuses to acknowledge Xena with an answer.

Their relationship that followed in the path of Hope’s destruction put their friendship to the ultimate test. Xena knew that her son’s death had been caused by the disastrous upraising of Gabrielle’s daughter, but she refused to listen to the warrior’s warning that Hope would only bring darkness to the world and instead fell into the trap of maternal instincts. But it hadn’t been enough to bring out the goodness in her half-mortal daughter and by the time she realised that Hope would kill her own mother if she had too, her ruination had sacrificed a sea of innocent blood to her father Dahak.

Suddenly, her thoughts are interrupted. The sound of happy voices fill the air as they venture toward the crop fields of Amphipolis.

"They’ve spotted us," smiles Gabrielle, feeling suddenly distracted from their conversation. "I adore this bit. It’s sort of---well---a hero’s welcome. I like a hero’s welcome."

Xena smiles agreeably, her face permitting the sensation of the warmth she feels in her heart. "Whatever."

The village women run and dance alongside their horses, eager to get a glimpse of Eve and welcome them home. They ride into the village square, the commotion following on behind as more villagers gather to greet them. Once in the centre of the village, Gabrielle slides off the saddle and walks over to aid Xena’s descent from her tall, golden mare. She unties the fur-lined capoose and cradles the infant in her arms for everyone to see.

"Xena." A loving voice breaks through the excited gathering, dressed in an apron and a cloth in one hand.

The warrior raises her head above the small crowd and smiles. "Mother." They embrace one another, holding each other close in the clasp of their arms.

"Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for weeks and where’s my precious grandchild?"

Cyrene releases Xena and approaches Gabrielle, also presenting her with a loving hug as she takes her granddaughter from her arms and kisses her sweet forehead. She gazes at Xena. "So what is the purpose of your visit this time?" She grins. "You hungry, ran out of money or need a baby-sitter?"

Xena releases a facial expression of embarrassment as she quirks her lips. "Mother---really. What makes you think I only visit when I need something?"

"Actually---it’s a bit of everything," Gabrielle cuts in, glaring toward the warrior.

"Oh---yeah," Xena agrees. "Don’t suppose there’s any chance of the day’s speciality is there? We’re starved."

"And what about the rest?" asks Cyrene.

Gabrielle breaks in once more. "We were wondering if you’d have Eve for a few days. There’s a bit of business we have to attend to between a couple of---"

"States," Xena snaps abruptly."

Gabrielle glances at the warrior with a sense of bewilderment.

"Just some business between a couple of states," assures Xena.

"Of course I will." She places another kiss on Eve’s head and turns toward the tavern. "Still, it’s a shame my only daughter couldn’t ask me."

Her mother strolls away whilst Xena and Gabrielle glance at one another.

"You didn’t tell your mother we were conspiring with the Romans; any reason?" Gabrielle asks.

"It’s not the done thing, is it? Greeks and Romans combining. We don’t want word to get out, it may come across as committing treason to some."

They head off toward the village inn, their stomachs echoing deep, long, rolling sounds in unison. The alehouse was swarming with the early midday hustle and bustle of village workers breaking off for some lunch. Xena licks her lips and rubs her hands together enthusiastically as

she examines the list of dishes chalked upon a board inside the tavern. "So, what’ll it be, Gabrielle. Duck or rabbit?"

"I think I’ll go for the taste of red meat today. Not that I got a whole lot of white meat yesterday."

"Yeah, well I’m going for the large bird. I just need something with a lot flesh on it."

Cyrene places Eve in her wooden highchair and disappears to prepare some pureed vegetables for her hungry granddaughter, whilst Xena and Gabrielle find a table close by.

"So, have you ever come into conjunction with the Governor of Macedonia before? Have you ever actually met him?"

The warrior pulls out a chair at a food serving table and flops down. "Yeah. I’ve come into conjunction with him before. It was during my dark days. General Brutus, on the other hand, would take one glance at my face and I would never get through those stronghold gates but Governor Gaius has fonder memories."

"I see, so he possesses fond memories of you, does he?" remarks Gabrielle, humorously raising her eyebrows.

Cyrene walks over to their table, a plate in each hand and a cloth draped over her arm. "One rabbit and one duck for two half starved warriors." She slides the plates onto the table, full to the brim of chunky meat and tasty vegetables enriched in a deliciously thick gravy flowing around the edge. A smiling barmaid steps over, bringing their usual drinks to them and places the goblet and tankard alongside their plates.

"Thank you," smiles Gabrielle appreciatively. Always aware when her manners are required, unlike her primeval companion sitting opposite. Gabrielle watches as Xena plucks contentedly at the portion of duck on her plate, ripping away at the outer skin and leaving the greasy bones to drip over the table top. She gazes at her attentively, feeling easily humiliated by the warrior’s eating behaviour.

"You know---don’t you think you’re behaving a little primitive in your mothers tavern? It’s not as though we’re eating around a campfire. I’m sure she must have raised you with some table manners---right?" She slides a knife and fork wrapped in a serviette across the table. "So what about Governor Gaius?" asks Gabrielle. "What fond memories does he possess of your dark past?"

"Me and the governor are fine," the warrior admits between mouthfuls of meat. "I helped him when he was charged with implication during the conspiracy of Catiline and extortion in his province. He was going to be condemned and sent into exile, but I persuaded Cicero to defend him and he was recalled. Because of my help, he was acquitted. We made a deal that if I helped him, he would return his support. But he’s not at all confident that we can dissuade Brutus. He’s going to meet me with a Macedonian army to save me travelling north through the mountains."

Gabrielle grins mischievously. "That’s decent of him. Are you sure that’s all he promised you? I hear he’s a bit of a looker."

"As I said, Gabrielle---Romans are dealers to me---nothing else. Although I do hold a fondness for the governor, Marcus Brutus is just another double-dealing back stabber, if you ask me."

Glancing up, Xena spies her mother striding from table to table collecting empty plates, a grin of pride creasing her face as she exhibits her granddaughter in her highchair. The warrior smiles at Gabrielle, sensing the warmth of her family on all sides and the comfort of a home cooked meal inside her.

"What’s wrong?" asks Gabrielle.

"Nothing. That’s what I like about moments like these. There’s just nothing to get stressed about. Makes me feel happy to be home."

Gabrielle looks on vacantly as Xena raises her serviette to wipe the drips of gravy gathering in the corners of her mouth. "Does it?" she asks quietly. She gazes at Xena with a blank expression, sensing deep down inside that if they were to settle anywhere, it would be nice to find an abode together.

Xena was aware of Gabrielle’s wish to settle in the Amazon village and maintaining her reign as queen after being initiated some years ago, yet never having the fulfillment of taking up her right to the caste. Xena had always managed to persuade her to walk away from her priorities by refusing to live amongst the amazons, respecting them but declining to accept their way of life. The warrior had felt suffocated by the closeness of their community, disliking communal bathing and laundry days. She had wished to depart their village after attempting to dwell amongst them and Gabrielle had granted her wish once more, patiently waiting for the warrior to nest with the amazons at a later date---yet Xena always regarded Amphipolis as her home.

She continues to glance at the warrior, reminiscing her earlier words. "So how do you think we can dissuade General Brutus from locating Caesar’s son and returning him to Rome?"

"As I said, Gabrielle. Romans are double-dealing tradesmen. We engage in business with them and they’re sure to co-operate.

Gabrielle nods her head. "I expect he’ll be a little shocked to see us, though---I mean---after all that’s happened in the past? What makes you think he will want to co-operate now."

"You bargain, Gabrielle. Once you persuade General Brutus to conspire with with Governor Gaius, we can locate Caesar’s heir and conceal him behind the walls of Greece. Brutus will get satisfaction when he realises that this is the beginning of the end for Julius Caesar. No-one said we had to be allies, but we can only achieve this if we band together."

Gabrielle glares into the deep, hateful eyes of the warrior sitting opposite her. "You still hate him with a passion, don’t you? Is this what it’s all about, your hatred for Caesar? He’s dead, Xena". Silence. Xena glares scornfully at her friend. "I’m doing this for Greece and every other province of Rome. Up until now, Caesar has never produced a true son. If it’s true that he has a male child, he is sure to rule the empire. This child will be raised with the barbaric standards of Rome, never knowing the suffering and disorder of their impetuous greed. We can safeguard the child until Octavius' death, then release him to Rome in the hope of him succeeding to the empire as a stable and uprising emperor."

"I see, but you’re still going to use this child to take vengeance, aren’t you."

"I am not, Gabrielle," Xena disagrees. "What I want to achieve could change the future forever. If Caesar does have a son, he deserves a shot as Rome’s emperor, after he’s been raised in Greece. Now eat," points Xena with her knife. "It won’t take the Roman’s long to achieve their desired purpose."

Gabrielle plays with her food uneasily, shifting the delicacy around with her fork as she watches her friend tuck into her meal. "I hope you’re right, Xena. Nothing gave me greater pleasure than to see Caesar’s reign come to an end. But this child mustn't become the empire’s sacrifice for our own sufferance. This heir may be Caesar’s, but it’s still an innocent child, just like Eve. He deserves no punishment---you do know that, don’t you? I mean---what if the Greeks want to kill him? Maybe he would be safer in the hands of Rome."

"No, Gabrielle," chomps Xena. "He mustn’t be sent to Rome---that is not our strategy. General Brutus hated Caesar and everything he stood for with a passion. It’s no secret that he conspired an assassination on him. You have to persuade him that this child will only bring about a new and greater empire if we can safeguard the child behind our Greek walls until his time is due, and you’ll see I’m right."

Gabrielle ponders over the warriors confident speech. "So you think Brutus will go for that, do you? You think we can trust each other just because we’re bonded in our hatred for Caesar."

"Yes, Gabrielle. I do, now eat up. I thought you were hungry."

"Yeah, well you always have the ability to curve my appetite." Gabrielle’s self assurance at the this moment in time held a high feeling of corruptness. Sometimes she felt incapacitated and open to bribery. The act of being dishonest sometimes left her feeling immorally depraved. Especially when Xena was up against the Romans. Sometimes, she could be as devious as they to claim her triumph.

"This food is so tasty," chomps Xena. "This has to be the best tavern around."

"Yeah. Makes a change to those meatballs you always have me make---right. Shame we have to rush it though. I feel like a pig feeding out of a trough."

They shovel in another few more mouthfuls, slowly curving the appetite of their empty stomachs.

"Don’t mention pigs, Gabrielle. It gives me indigestion just thinking about yesterday."

"Oh---sorry. Never thought. You know---it makes sense you having that bathe this morning, although I can still smell that stench around you."

Xena chews enthusiastically over a large piece of meat and gazes at Gabrielle. "What do you mean?"

"You know---the pig dung," she whispers. "I can still smell it."

"You can?" Xena glances around whilst Gabrielle begins to devour her lunch. "Why didn’t you say earlier?"

"It didn’t seem so pungent then, but in here--- I think it’s your boots," she squirms.

Xena places her head beneath the table, inhaling a large dose of the offensive stench of pig excretion from around her feet. She rises to the table top, her facial expression revealing the emitting odour from around her boots as she exhales loudly. "I thought I asked you to clean them down for me while I bathed?" Xena whispers once more, hastily filling her fork with vegetables.

"You must be joking, Xena. I wouldn’t touch those waste ridden boots---if you---if you gave me Argo," Gabrielle chewed.

"Great. Maybe a bit of undue haste is even more necessary now than before."

The next ten minutes were spent in an indulging silence, although, rather smelly atmosphere as they swiftly scoop up the remainder of nourishment off their plates, certain of filling their stomachs before indigestion set in. Swilling down half a mug of beer, Xena rests back in her chair and releases a hearty belch. "Ah---nothing like moms home cooking, is there? A little rushed maybe---"

Gabrielle glances around at the peering faces toward their table. "Are you quite finished?" she mumbles, sliding the crucified leftovers from the tabletop onto Xena’s empty plate.

"Yep. Let's go and say our farewells."

They both rise from the table and stride across the tavern to her mother, still proudly showing off her granddaughter. Her mother notices the tall head of her daughter striding out amongst the tavern folk and approaches them.

"Must you leave already? It seems you only just got here."

"Sorry, mother," Xena apologises and stoops low, presenting her daughter with a loving kiss. "Be a good girl for mummy. I’ll be back soon."

Gabrielle presents Eve with a little wave of her hand.

"We’ll be about a couple of days," Xena continues to her mother. "Gabrielle and I are going to have to split up so it may take a little longer than usual."

Her mother shrugs her shoulders, accustomed to her daughters lifestyle. "Whatever."

With a hearty meal in their stomachs and a generous amount of fluid, they step out of the tavern, the intense midday heat beating down on the village square. Xena spies Argo, dipping her snout into a wooden trough, strides over to her and placing foot in stirrup, mounts her. She turns to gaze at Gabrielle following on behind, perched in the centre of the properties and shielding her eyes from the sun as she searches the neighbourhood.

"Here girl," she shouts, "where are you?"

Xena wrinkles her brow as she watches Gabrielle spin round profusely.

"My horse, Xena---she’s vanished."

The both of them glance around through the ever-growing village.

"Horses don’t just vanish, Gabrielle. You did tie her up, properly, didn’t you?"

An older village woman steps forward from the water well, buckets in hands as she splashes over to Gabrielle. "I saw your horse," she calls, "over that way." She nods toward the line of trees bordering their expanding community. "Your friend, what’s his name with the funny hat, took him to graze, he said."

"Joxer?" asks Xena inquisitively.

"But Joxer’s not with us this time," quips Gabrielle. "We left him a few days ago. Said he was going to find some meaning in his life while we were away. Can’t see it somehow."

"I’d say our Joxer look alike is an impostor. Someone has taken your horse for some strange reason, Gabrielle."

"Probably too scared to take yours."

"No. It’s more serious than that. Someone’s trying to slow us down, probably even watching us right now. Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing we can do. Slip up here behind me, I have an idea."

Entrusting her daughter in the safe arms of her mother, they mount Argo and exit the ever growing settlement behind them.

"I wouldn’t worry too much about your horse, Gabrielle. If I know this area well enough, I can guess where she’ll be." But Gabrielle’s horse was no where to be found. So instead, against Gabrielle’s wishes, Xena stole her a horse - a young bronco with a Roman saddle which Xena quickly confiscated.

"I told you Gabrielle, it’s not stealing if we put it back. They won’t even know it’s missing."

"Oh, Xena. Believe me. Without a saddle, stealing this horse is the least of my problems right now."

Xena smiles back at Gabrielle playfully. She decides to pick up the pace a little, just to enjoy the etched expression across her face for a short while.

Taking the long excursion on horseback, they travel their distance through several thickset forests as they pass alongside some of the small farm villages en route.

With the midday sun scattering sprinklings of sunlight over the ground through the sturdy tree branches gently swaying in the summer breeze, it was easy to sense that there was slight apprehension in the air as they enter a sun filled glade.

Xena pulls up and dismounts Argo, followed on by Gabrielle as she slides from the bristly coated hide against her inner thighs.

The warrior turns to Gabrielle and presents her with a lingering stare. Approaching her, she raises her hand to rest on her shoulder tenderly. "This is where I have to leave you now. I’ve sent forth a messenger, so he’ll already be aware that we’re back." Xena turns and points ahead at the line of golden trees before them. "Just keep riding in a straight line for about a mile and it will lead you to General Brutus’ compound, you can’t miss it. I’m meeting Governor Gaius at an old army camp a few miles back. Meet me back here at dusk and don’t be late."

Striding back to her horse, Gabrielle nods in agreement. "No problem."

Holding the horses reins, Gabrielle strides away from the warrior. Although Xena strives to admit her true feelings toward her friend, Gabrielle's welfare is always close to her heart.

"Gabrielle---wait. You know Brutus is a very proud Roman who relies on his country. He’s a supreme general and he knows all about the art of war. He’s capable of anything. I’m sending you because you’re a good talker. If anyone can convince him to retain Caesar’s heir behind Greek walls, it’s you. He has to gain your trust. Can I rely on you?"

Gabrielle quirks a smug smile. "Well, if you put it like that---then yes."

Xena smiles at her friend and then they part, the distance of the forest growing far between them.

As Xena heads out alone on the route toward Governor Gauis’ specified location, twisted thoughts of her dark past interrupt her path and drift in and out her tormented mind. She also had an army which had fought just like General Brutus’ once. Where she too had been a very devious leader whose strategy was to use deliberate falsehood and deception to gain whatever she wanted. After all, she had gone into battle with him before. There had been so many times when she had led her own army into battle against Greeks and Romans, it was hard to remember who she had come up against, but Brutus remembered her. When she had crossed the Roman barricade deliberately, exposing her authority to the Romans, neither army had gained the victory, both of their men falling needlessly and now General Brutus had turned from a commendable Roman leader into a bitter general, whose only revenge to gain victory for his deprivation from this strong-willed woman was to imitate the warrior that had once defeated him. She had heard that

his leadership was very similar to that of her own. If this fact were to be true, she could only make amends for it by preventing the return of this child herself.

The memories that were washing through her head were painful. The very idea of killing defenceless civilians as the Roman’s did made her skin crawl, yet once she was at the very centre of it all, attempting to rule the world alongside Caesar. But their passion had been short lived. The whole plot had been a hoax delivered by Caesar to kill her. It was so easy to see why she had turned into the warrior she had. But why had it taken her to the very depths of evils. To defend her own village and its inhabitants from the hands of a harmful warlord was explainable, but to go on and join up with a Roman like Caesar and a warlord like Draco to loot and kill the innocent was unforgivable.

Maybe, General Brutus was now following on in the same footsteps. The evilest of people sometimes start out as misguided individuals that have suffered some sort of mental torture in the past, Roman or otherwise. Sometimes vengeful action seems the only escapism for them. After all, she of all people should know and understand their reasons for despicable barbarity. That was why now, her only concern was for Gabrielle's welfare. Her best friend could also fall into a similar trap without realising it. What if General Brutus was to use a hoax to snare her now that she was on her own. It seemed strange how Xena sometimes lost touch with reality whenever she experienced Gabrielle's absence. Sometimes, in moments of anger, she would see a red mist herself and it would appear all too easy to return to her dark side once more. Perhaps it was not Gabrielle's welfare she should be considering in her absence, but her own. Gabrielle was her backbone. She kept her on the level. Without her love and guidance, the path of life seemed more like a crumbling avalanche with no available foothold. Eventually, she would just slide to the lowest part of her existence.

The long journey past four villages slid by regardless and unexpectedly, Xena is brought back to reality.

"HALT. Who goes there?" Two of Governor Gaius’ Greek armed guards stride forward through the trees in full view of the warrior. "What is your mission lady?"

The warrior realises that she must now be at least a mile away from the run-down military camp that she had been informed of. She smiles. "Put your weapons away, boys. My name is Xena. I sent forth a messenger. The governor is expecting me and I’m no lady, remember that." She dismounts Argo and pats her behind as she trots off into the forest to forage and roam.

The soldiers withdraw the threat of their swords and move aside. "Welcome, Xena. Please, follow us. The governor is anxious to receive your visit."

The midday sky glares a dazzling ray of sunshine into the eyes of Gabrielle as she gazes around at the grey turreted fortress before her, a claim by Caesar when Greece became a province of Rome. The Roman flag flies in the warm breeze, indicating a presence of warfare that fills the air with the nostalgic aroma of horse shoe on anvil.

"This is the preparation yard," the legionnaire points, addressing his new visitor as she spins round to face him. The young leader who greeted Gabrielle at the stronghold gates is barely a man, but stands tall and strong, upholding authority yet seemingly youthful to be alongside the likes of Marcus Brutus in Greece. Just his shadow alone engulfs Gabrielle's tiny physique. His gleaming body armour reflects the summer sun and bares the scars of bygone battles. Some defeated and some victorious she presumes. She wondered if he probably bedded down in his armour too. She’d known Xena to do just the same. Some warriors felt vulnerable without their protection, yet both of them seem to carry an aura of power that was so much stronger than the body plates they wore. It made her realise that certain people’s confidence did not lie as deep as their boldness. Either way, however juvenile this soldier of Rome seemed to appear, his age lacked neither experience nor maturity as he proved a committed legionnaire, devoted to his every command.

"This yard is filled with stables and blacksmiths. The perfect place to build up our armoury. You have many Greek warlords that wish to make war on us. But somehow---I get the feeling you didn’t come here to examine our war exhibits," he quizzes.

Gabrielle turns toward the tall, armoured Roman. "No---you’re right. I didn’t. I’ve come to discuss this rumour regarding a heir born to Caesar in one of our farm villages."

A deep, patronising laugh bellows knowingly from within the proud legionnaire and Gabrielle gazes toward the ground feeling a little rattled. "A heir you say---in the villages. And who informed you of this may I ask? Governor Gaius I presume."

Gabrielle smirks at his self-satisfying manner. "Well, with all due respect, sir. I think the Greeks are also capable of commencing a hearsay of uncertain accuracy. Nobody is aware yet of whether this rumour is fabricated or true."

"I see," he announces abruptly. "So is this what you want to discuss with us, then? What to do if it is true."

The beating of heated and wrought metal from the furnace and the squeal of rotating sword sharpeners become unbearable to Gabrielle's sensitive eardrums. "Excuse me, but is there anywhere a little more private we could take up this discussion," she utters in a loud voice.

The Roman offers an approving nod. "Certainly. Follow me this way."

Gabrielle is led away from the preparation yard and into the turreted building. As she climbs the dark, spiralling stone steps she gazes out of the spy holes. Stables full of horses and weaponry sheds surround the body of men who appear armed and ready for warfare, a sight she regards with distaste and puzzled curiosity Whatever she was going to say had to be quick and effective. She couldn’t let Xena and the villages down when so much was required from her.

Glancing forward, she notices the shape of a silhouetted soldier at the height of the stairway.

"General, I’ve been searching for you," the soldier calls nervously.

Gabrielle releases an addled expression of curiosity. "I’m sorry. I seem a little confused," she interrupts. "I was expecting General Marcus Brutus to be in command of this legion."

"I’m General Decimus Brutus, Gabrielle," he corrects, " This is General Marcus Brutus. We’re forging our legions together to find the son of Rome."

It would seem that this young General named Decimus had entered Greece with his legion completely unknown to Xena.

Gabrielle releases an unclear expression as Decimus Brutus reaches the top step and places an arm around the man whose name she remembered with great distaste. It was strange, she thought, that Marcus Brutus returned her gaze with little trauma regarding her appearance in the Roman fortress.

"General, I’d like to introduce you to my new visitor, Gabrielle," Decimus announces. Marcus Brutus reveals an uneasy grin and nods his head toward Gabrielle cautiously. It was clear that he already knew who she was by the sheepish expression his face so obviously revealed. His rugged, boyish looks and his handsome face was still framed with a crop of dark but untidy hair and his brown eyes seemed deep with remorse as he held his gaze on her.

"No, Marcus. How many times must I tell you?" Decimus Brutus patronises. "When you are introduced to a lady, you gently take her hand, raise it toward your lips and---" Decimus raises Gabrielle's hand and tenderly kisses her fingertips. Marcus and Gabrielle share another brief, glance at one another, both of them silent yet mentally alert. She remains confused by his calmed manner, yet it seemed clear that his expression seemed to induce some sort of shock.

"Gabrielle," Decimus continues as he gently releases her hand, "Marcus Brutus is going to take the province of Macedonia as his possession one day. You should get to know one another better."

Presenting him with an encouraging slap on the back, Decimus Brutus almost sends Marcus and Gabrielle sprawling down the flight of withering steps behind her. She raises a hand to balance his stocky frame in a bid not to wind up at the foot of the staircase in an embarrassing heap, pressing her hands against his chest to support them both. Once again, they are forced to make eye contact. It would seem that suddenly, Marcus Brutus possessed half the ego compared to that of this new, young Roman General.

"Come Gabrielle." Leaving Marcus Brutus behind, Decimus leads her up a small corridor and opens the door leading to his quarters. Like a gentleman, he allows Gabrielle to enter first. She smiles sweetly, her face expressing that she has always been smitten to a little fuss from a gentleman. She turns her glance to Marcus Brutus still stood at the top of the passage, his eyes still fixed on her as she strides out of view. It was clear that she had to be on her guard if he couldn’t be within her sight.

The small office adequately comprises a desk, two chairs, some filing drawers and a few maps on the wall. Gabrielle notices a large representation of the local farm village regions. Intrigued by her fascination for maps, she strides over and examines it carefully. It relates in full every reference point and more that she knew existed. "This map is fascinating. I’ve never seen one drawn up in such great detail before. It makes my hometown of Poteidaia seem enormous."

Decimus Brutus glances at Gabrielle curiously. "Is that where you’re from? The small farm village of Poteidaia."

Reminiscing her childhood, she smiles. "Yes---well, I don’t live there anymore. I’m a sort of---well---a travelling peacemaker, now."

Decimus Brutus raises his eyebrows with slight concern. "I see. So why would you feel the need to visit our fortress? We have already offered you our declaration of peace whilst your villages continue to farm produce our legions."

She turns to face the Roman general casually. "Can I ask you? What is your interest in Caesar’s heir?"

Moving mysteriously across the dusty, wooden floorboards, Decimus Brutus shuffles uneasily and then rests at his desk. "I must admit you’re a little imposing, but I don’t suppose I mind answering your question. The province of Greece has belonged to the Roman empire since the Macedonian war. I’m sure you’re aware that in that same year, the Achaean league of Greek cities attempted to assert it’s independence and also became a province. The cities in Greece which prove friendly become nominal allies. By veiling Caesar’s heir from Rome, your farm villages will be resisting co-operation and will become subjects of the Roman empire. Besides," continues Decimus Brutus, "if this child is left in the hands of Greece, it’s possible that the Greeks will not welcome the heir of Caesar into their abundance. I’ve heard that the Governor of Macedonia is getting involved. Perhaps his theory is that the Greeks may well feign their protection merely to rid any identity of the young emperor by killing this child of Rome. They would be performing a task that the Governor is too fearful to execute himself leaving your village people as subjects to Rome. After all, why else should Gaius wish to be drawn in. Maybe, all of this is just his desire to kill Caesar’s long reign as most of Rome and Greece wish for. But it shouldn’t start and end with the death of a child."

Gabrielle gazes aimlessly, astonishment widening her eyes. She had presumed the very expectation herself. Why would the Greeks want to protect Caesar’s heir? Some of them could be as ruthless as the Romans too. Any warlord would receive a large amount of dinars if they were to use the child for ransom.

Releasing his chair, the general takes a stand of disapproval. "But sadly, it seems that Governor Gaius will continue to revoke our plans to find the child and send him to Rome. By requesting the help of your people, he is placing the villages in great danger. In his attempt to locate the child first, he has forced his challenge upon me, leaving me no option but to engage in a personnel battle. This child must go home, Gabrielle. He has Caesar’s blood flowing through his veins. He won’t be welcome here."

The general was right of course. No Roman seemed welcome in Greece due to Caesar’s savage reign. But Gabrielle had spent the last five years bringing justice to the lands so why should today of all days be any different. A little difficult maybe, but nothing seemed beyond her reach. If Gabrielle wished for a specific act to take place, she would always do her utmost to gain it. There had even been times in the past where she would have given her own life for the sake of harmony. It seems a little strange to think that she should possess such a fondness for a warrior who had lived such a despicable past like Xena.

"You say you wish to aid Greece in this dispute," Gabrielle continues apprehensively as she strides around the small office, "yet you’re threatening our villages with a multitude of Rome’s soldiers in your contest for this child. Our people really don’t want all this hostility so close to home. You say you want to help us, yet all you’re doing is posing danger to our families with your legions. Our village folk feel suffocated behind this Roman wall of flesh."

"You’re right---of course," the general agrees, "I can’t see the land of Greece for Rome’s legions."

"Is it possible," asks Gabrielle, "that the whisper of a fraction should triumph against the voice of a nation. If you can’t conspire with Governor Gaius, then why not notify Rome that Caesar’s heir was a mere rumour announced by the Greeks? Whilst you’ve got his attentions, I’ll locate Caesar’s heir and conceal him in a remote Greek village. I know the perfect place where no one need know the origin of this child. Not Greece or Rome. Only when Octavius’ death is upon the empire should we release the child's identity to his next in line. At least then, the empire stands a good chance of recruiting a commendable leader with the uprising of a new and greater empire under the custody of your own supervision."

Decimus Brutus narrows his gaze, "I see your point, Gabrielle. Octavius does make a pathetic emperor of Rome. He has no stamina. For the sake of my beloved country, I have to bring forth this child."

Gabrielle looks on, attempting to read his thoughts, hoping desperately that they could come to some sort of agreement before dusk.

"Give me time to consider your proposition, Gabrielle. Take a walk around---make yourself at home. I’ll join you shortly."

Decimus Brutus shows Gabrielle out the door. Wearily, she walks back through the dim, short corridor and down the stone steps. At the foot of the stairway she enters the preparation yard that is now swarming with the general’s infantry. Various activities take place around her. Hammering forges shape iron on anvil and sparring soldiers engulf her vision with obnoxious clamour. How on earth was she expected to make herself at home here? Suddenly an uproar of whistles are shrilly blown into Gabrielle's direction by what appears to be a bunch of sex starved Romans.

Realising that she has been spotted, she stoops low to retrieve her sais from the small loops inserted discreetly onto the side of her boots and notices a large staff up against the wall beside her. Leaving the sais safely in position, she reaches for the weapon she had first learned to battle with and spreads her hands wide across the length of the pole with a tight grip. She wasn’t afraid to strike a blow if just one of them wandered over to take a closer look.

Suddenly, a strong hand seizes her shoulder from behind. She spins round and raises the staff to ward off her astonished attacker.

"WOH---it’s only me." Marcus Brutus raises his hands and catches the swinging pole. They both glare at one another in silence. "I need to talk with you, Gabrielle," Marcus mumbles, his voice highly strung and his brown eyes piercing. "There’s things you should know about me."

Gabrielle holds tightly to the staff, flexing her fingers around the long pole. "I know all there is to know about you so why should I listen to you, now? The only time you ever told the truth was when---"

"Gabrielle, you have to listen to me," he suddenly interrupts. "You may not believe this, but I don’t recognise you. I know I had something to do with your past that was somewhat---distasteful, but I don’t recall a thing. When I heard you were coming here, I knew your name---but that’s as far as it goes. I’m certain we’ve been deluded somehow. Quick, come with me."

He releases the staff and she drops it slowly to her side, narrowing her gaze toward him.

Something about all this seemed to be making sense, but at the same time, a little deviating. Marcus Brutus did behave out of character the last time she saw him, she felt it liberal to hear what he had to say. She follows on behind him as he leads her away, his eyes cautiously focused on his surroundings, her hands tightly flexed around the pole. As Gabrielle moves along to his rear, she can’t help but fix her gaze at his finely toned physique enveloped in a shiny body plate of armour and a brown tunic belted at the waist by a metal sheath that hangs to his right. She quickly draws her attention onto the staff and fidgets nervously as he spins round to address her.

"Please---follow me. We have a small tavern this way where we can rest and talk. You can hold onto my staff if it makes you feel safer," he smiles, a slight sarcasm in his tone.

Gabrielle narrows her gaze as he turns his back on her. She didn’t feel quite ready to place her trust in Marcus Brutus until she heard what he had to say about that fateful day in the snow.

He leads her to a small shack. The shutters are wide open allowing the fresh July air to enter in, thus releasing the aroma of meat, vegetables and freshly baked bread mingled with ale and mead. The door which has seen better days, hangs carelessly from it’s rusty hinges and Marcus swings it open to allow Gabrielle to enter. "Must have been some party," she mumbles sourly.

Once inside the Spartan alehouse, Marcus leads her to a sloping, unclean table. As all the tables happen to be ridden in unfortunate sticky rings, he seemed to have little choice of where to sit her. She rests his staff against the beer stained wall, very much in arms reach and a dirty barmaid strides over to them. She looks like she hasn’t seen clean bath water in days and her clothes are smelly and grimy as though she’d just come in from cleaning the stables.

"What’ll it be?" she grunts flatly.

Marcus looks questionably toward Gabrielle as she stumbles her reply.

"Oh---just a glass of water, please---clean---erm---I mean---that’s if you have some." She rapidly turns away from the smelly servant, playing with her hair and wondering why she always managed to speak her mind when she least expected it.

"And a beer for me," continued Marcus swiftly.

The barmaid returns to her work.

"I know what you’re thinking," he continues, "you’d never eat anything cooked by a dirty, smelly servant like her."

Gabrielle glances away. "Oh no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that---well--- I’ve eaten earlier. I’m more interested in what you have to tell me."

"I heard what happened to you," he announces, his eyebrows raised as if in sympathy. "It must have been awful and I know you hold me partly responsible, being a general of Rome. But I don’t recall a thing. I know it sounds bizarre but I swear, this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on you. I know for sure I would have remembered your face."

"I see," she announces ironically. "Then maybe you should lay off the strong liquor for a while. Please---credit me with some intelligence, Brutus. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m not as naive as you’d like to think I am."

Gabrielle raises herself from the table, but Marcus grasps her hand aggressively.

"NO. Please, Gabrielle. Believe me when I tell you that something’s not adding up. I need your help. I need to find out what Decimus Brutus is up to. Are you going to help me, or not?"

Gabrielle laughs, expressing delight at his gesture but sensing his sincerity. "I trust you about as much as thattyrant warlord, Draco. I bet you’ve heard of him. Intimidating, arrogant, egotistical, big-headed brute, like yourself. Swear he’d do anything if I returned his love. There are very few men in this world who gain my trust, Brutus. Decimus seems genuine enough to receive that."

Marcus ponders for a brief moment, concentrating eagerly on her words before she left." I don’t recall this warlord you talk of. It’s difficult for me to---"

Gabrielle snickers. "Well, you must be the only person in the land who has not yet come across his improper antics. Perhaps you should get out more instead of trying to influence young, Greek girls," she replies, her voice dry with sarcasm.

"It was an accident---" Marcus continues, standing to meet her gaze as she reaches for the staff in fear of him regaining his weapon. "This is what I’m trying to tell you. I lost most of my memory in battle. I don’t recall my past, least of all your beautiful face."

Completely perplexed, Gabrielle’s cheeks take on that familiar shade of pastel pink.

"That’s a sweet flush of innocence you have. I like that modesty in you, Gabrielle."

Suddenly, their drinks are splashed down in front of them. "One beer, one water," the bar maid snorts. Then with little grace, she strides away in her clumpy boots. They both sit back down at the table. Gabrielle glances down at her drink. Under her nose is an ale reeking beer. She picks up the dirty tankard and passes it to Marcus. "I think this belongs to you, I don’t normally touch the stuff," she squirms.

Lifting the goblet of water, Marcus also transfers her drink to her. "I’m afraid our maid isn’t renowned for her hospitality. May I add my apology on her behalf?"

The tepid water that Gabrielle sips from the stained goblet offers little for her thirst. It seemed as unclear as the account of events that Marcus Brutus was expressing to her.

"I feel slightly confused," Gabrielle declares, shaking her head. "You’re saying that you don’t remember me and for some reason, I feel compelled to take you seriously. I don’t think Marcus Brutus would say these things if they weren’t genuine. I don’t feel it would irritate him in this way."

"I’m telling the truth, Gabrielle. I’ve been commanded to forge my legion with Decimus Brutus, but I don’t trust him. He believes he’s Caesar’s illegitimate son and it’s got to his head a little. After his life was threatened by a Greek warrior who claimed to have killed him in Rome during theCatiline conspiracy, he’s been obsessed with his own destiny."

Gabrielle nods knowingly. "Like father, like son. I’ll keep a watchful eye. He’s probably just a little egotistical, that’s all. I’m sure everything will be okay. It’s easy to feel apprehensive after an accident such as yours."

"I hope for your sake you’re right, Gabrielle. I know it’s inevitable that you and I must have met, but I don’t recall you. You have to believe that I’m worthy of your trust and tell me about yourself. I’d like to renew our relationship. I heard you lead an interesting life. I mean---your lifestyle is not like that of other women I know."

Too right, thought Gabrielle. But just how much did he need to know. There was so much about her life she didn’t want him to discover. For instance, the tragic slaughter she witnessed of her husband at the wicked hands of Callisto. The death of her child, Hope, the half mortal daughter of Dahak, the god of darkness whom she forsake without a mother in a bid to save her from Xena.

Marcus notices Gabrielle's serious absent-mindedness.

"What’s wrong? Is it something I said? We don’t have to talk about your life if it troubles you."

Releasing her troubled thoughts, Gabrielle shakes her head and willingly moves on to tell him of herself. "Five yearsago, I was rescued from the evil hands of that warlord, Draco. His men were going to take all the women of our village and sell them as slaves. We had no one to protect us. I was scared---scared for myself and for my mother and sister." Gabrielle was beginning to wonder just how many times she was going to tell this story and still feel the rush of excitement she experienced at Xena’s appearance in Poteidiai. "This mysterious warrior women appeared through the bushes," she continued, "and battled each and every one of them all to save us. She fought with the aura of a Goddess. I admired her courage and strength. It uplifted me. I wanted to run away with her---be like her. To be brave and sort out the men from the boys---" she giggles as she suppresses her embarrassment at the thought of her last statement, "---if you know what I mean. I realised then that my life was so dull and carried no meaning. I didn’t want to be a village woman to marry a simple village man and bear his children. I wanted so much more out of life." She smiles, "would you like me to continue?"

Marcus gave her a desirable grin and a flash of his brown eyes that she didn’t expect to respond to. "Please do," he replied.

"During that night I collected a few belongings and left my village and family behind. It was hard---just leaving them like that, but there was something in my heart that told me I had to go. I managed to track down the heroine that saved us and together we travel and fight for world peace."

Marcus smiles, enjoying the company of a female with a distinct difference to the usual women in his life, but that of one he should be remembering. "I guess that makes you nomadic then. Roaming from pasture to pasture with no fixed abode or dwelling place. I shall have to remember you as Gabrielle, the Greek nomad."

Gabrielle gave a smile that revealed the gentle creases across her nose, almost humiliated at the prospect of one of the men she almost held responsible for her afterlife in Tartarus suddenly wanting to remember her face now that she was alive.

"Now tell me about yourself, Marcus. If you want my help to find out what’s going on, I need to know a lot more about you than what I already know. I have to confess, it’s not all good and I don’tfully trust you yet."

Looking down at his tankard, Marcus runs his finger around its frothy rim. He seems suddenly solemn. He too seemed as though he possessed a part of his past he’d rather have left untold. Suddenly he looks up and smiles. "Once we lost a battle, I don’t even know why it started. All I know is that part of my life ended that day, and another part began." He comes to an abrupt end and gulps strenuously.

Gabrielle raises her eyebrows. It was clear that it wasn’t much to go on.

"I had a friend," he continues, "but I don’t recall much about him. Actually, I don’t recall anything about him. All I know is that Caesar’s estranged lover Xena, killed him in cold blood when she challenged my legion. He saved my life. I heard that she said she would kill every last Roman in Greece with her bare hands if she had to until Caesar’s reign was over. I guess she was a woman that Caesar messed up with." Silence.

A sadness washes over his frowning face. Just as she, he had haunting thoughts that he would never clear from his mind.

"I’m so sorry, Marcus. I guess there’s a lot my associate has failed to inform me of." She places her hand on his arm. "I’ll help you, it’s good to see you’ve changed. But if this ends up as just another Roman cover-up to con me or kill this child, I swear it’ll be your last. I’m aware of the feelings you held toward Caesar. We all felt the same. We shouldn’t have been fighting one another. We have to band together if we are to achieve our desired purpose."

He swilled the rest of his ale down his throat, wiped his mouth and stood up from his chair just as Decimus Brutus marches into the tavern. "Ah, there you are. It’s nice to see you’re taking good care of our guest, Marcus. I hope he is treating you well, my dear. I wouldn’t want you to think that we don’t offer our best hospitality to our Greek guests."

Rising to her feet, Gabrielle smiles. "No, he’s wonderful---I mean---it’s wonderful.

Guiding her away from Marcus, Decimus Brutus leads Gabrielle out of the tavern. She turns to glance back at the handsome Roman General, wondering if their paths will collide again. Held tightly in his hand is the staff, the weapon he had presented her with for her false sense of security. As he watches her reach the tavern entrance, he kindly throws the long pole toward her. She raises her hand and seizes it, spinning it around her fingers with a neat twist.

"Nice throw," she winks.

"Impressive catch," he declares, watching her cautiously as she uses a weapon so skilfully with such delicate hands.

Back out into the preparation yard, Decimus Brutus leads her back up the steps to his quarters. "I have some news for you that I think you will find very gratifying," he assures her.

Gabrielle smiles as they disappear from Marcus’ view and a fear of delusion washes over her. If Marcus Brutus was supposed to represent a devious Roman, why was he so charming and Decimus so eager to conform with their plans. Xena’s judge of character had always been renowned for being precise. Is it possible that her hatred for Caesar could make any Roman her enemy. Perhaps Gabrielle was just beginning to realise that Rome’s soldiers were not the

arrogant, self important people that Xena had claimed them to be, but merely men of a social position striving to contend with the demands of Rome themselves.

Xena and Governor Gaius are also studying a map containing the Greek farm villages. The dilapidated military unit his Greek army reside in is smaller than that of Brutus’. It’s barrack surroundings are basically straight forward, resembling more of a military camp consisting of army tents and shanty huts with only one main building of stone rather than the conquered stronghold Roman fortress in Neapolis.

In her support of Macedonia, Xena had threatened Cicero to defend Governor Gaius during the Cataline conspiracy when he was charged with implication and extortion in his province. Much to the fury of Decimus Brutus, Caesar acquitted the Governor and later recalled him.

"Brutus isn’t an easy man to communicate with, Xena," reveals Governor Gaius. "I’ve witnessed his antics before. His strategy baffles most armies, even his own. He’s most uncivilised. This isn’t the first time he’s attempted a personal contest." Governor Gaius reels back in his chair and seems distracted, maybe a chain of events recalling in his mind stirred by the mere mention of Brutus’ name.

As a man in his fifties, his distinguished goatee beard makes him look young for his age, although it is noticeable that the last few years have been hard on him.

"The last time he came to Greece, he’d just been promoted to a general. Yet he had the audacity to try and destroy my leadership by moving in with his own fleet, to prove to Caesar that I was incapable of the uphold of Macedonia. When he failed, he seized my nephew, Antonius Gaius instead. It was his revenge for the sudden attack on a young general brought on by yourself six years ago. I failed to support this general with a report when you intentionally crossed the Roman border because I owed you my life. Now General Brutus says that if I reveal his antics to kill the child born to Caesar, he’d have my nephew executed. I have no choice but to remain silent even though rumour has it that he has performed the execution already. I’ve been told my nephew’s body lies in a temple, but I’m unaware of it’s location. Even Antonius’ brother, Mark Anthony is unaware---I’d like to keep it that way.

Xena realised that she had fought with General Brutus’ legions in combat before when his army had tried to restrain hers from veering to close to the Roman border. She had been weary of his strong Roman army and had no interest to fight when she was merely needing to transfer from one state to the other overseas. But some Romans had challenged her and she anchored. Once again, some of her men had fallen needlessly. Eventually, she deliberately went beyond safe or acceptable limits and both armies were almost wiped out instantly.

But her renegades did have a bad reputation for threatening anyone who showed any sign of impending danger toward her hometown of Amphipolis. General Brutus’ army was only protecting their territory, their home. She herself would have done the same. They weren’t to know that she was only passing the land and now, because of her ravenous plunder and her hatred for Caesar, Governor Gaius had lost his nephew due to her lust for revenge.

Was it possible that General Brutus, who had taken this vengeance on Governor Gaius, had once been a commendable Roman leader who had now turned bitter, due to her actions. What if this was all down to her hate for Caesar and systematically forcing people to yield to the demands of her dark past?

Suddenly a young woman in her early twenties walks into Governor Gaius’ quarters. Xena steps back and gazes at the pretty lady as she passes the room over to where they stand. With brown hair tied back on her head in a casual tail and wearing a simple blue dress cut low on the neckline, she places her hand on the governor’s arm. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asks.

Xena seizes the girls arm and pulls her over to where she stands. "Hey, little lady. You don’t have to do anything for him." She turns to Governor Gaius bitterly. "If she’s here for pittance or being held here against her wishes just for the pleasure of your filthy handed soldiers, I’ll---"

"Xena---please," the governor interrupts embarrassingly. "This is Porcia, she’s the former spouse of General Marcus Brutus. I apologise. I should have introduced you."

Xena releases the shocked girl and she rubs her arm. "I don’t get it," the warrior continues. "Why would you have Marcus Brutus’ wife residing here. It doesn’t make any sense. What is this---another hostage to fight over?"

Porcia turns dubiously, uncertain of whether to leave the room as she gazes toward the furious warrior. On her exit, Governor Gaius approaches Xena.

"Since General Brutus was attacked, I wasn’t the only one who took the brunt for your assault. His mother Servillia had a half brother who is also said to have let him down. This man was an active leader of the senatorial party, the supreme council in the state of the Roman republic and Rome. It was he who advised me never to conspire with Marcus Brutus long ago when he and Decimus Brutus were leading figures in the plot to assassinate Caesar. The senate’s advice was regarded as a form of collusion against them and the situation has spiralled out of control since,

and now, due to your assault on Marcus Brutus six years ago, General Decimus Brutus has forged with his legion and he’s a very, vengeful man. That senator who advised me is Porcia’s father. Marcus and Porcia’s marriage crumbled soon after due to his horrific injuries, which is why Marcus Brutus’ wife and her father reside in the safety of my camp."

"Just what are you saying?" Xena asks striding over to the governor. "Are you telling me that I attacked General Marcus Brutus in Rome and that Decimus still lives. That’s impossible. I killed---"

"You tried to kill the wrong man, Xena. When you went to murder Caesar’s suggested illegitimate heir six years ago, in your fury you attempted to kill the wrong Brutus. Caesar’s inheritor lives on and he’s come to Greece to find this new claim to the empire. That is who we are up against. Marcus Brutus is with Decimus at his fortress and they’re going to wage war."

"No. You don’t understand," Xena insists. "Whoever he was, I plunged my sword through his lung and sliced open his throat before I left Rome. No-one could have survived that. If he had, he would have avenged me for sure." The warrior stalls, her eyes wide at the reality of her conclusion as she gazes at the governor. "No-one would have survived, of course---unless he was Ares, the god of war," she announces scornfully. "He can transform into any mortal. That would explain Marcus Brutus’ bizarre behaviour at times. But, why would he want to protect Decimus Brutus’ identity by pretending that Marcus Brutus is still alive?"

"Word has it that Decimus wishes to kill the child and Octavius. Do you really believe that you killed Marcus Brutus, Xena? Porcia has assured him it was Callisto who attacked him. She saw everything."

The warrior glares at him, sensing that he felt she was too angered to have taken in the whole exploitation's of revenge due to the path of hatred she walked for Caesar. "Yes, I do. And someone's covering my bumble for some reason. I can guarantee you that it isn’t for my sake, so it must be for Decimus Brutus. And for some reason he has Ares on his side."

"Listen, Xena. I have to talk with my advisor about some pressing matters that have arisen. Would you please be good enough to keep an eye on Porcia for me while I’m busy? I don’t want her to know we’ve been asked to forge with Decimus Brutus. Her life could be at stake here. Her father isn’t a popular man with certain people in Rome."

Xena smiles reassuringly. "Sure."

Walking out into the corridor, she spies a room to her right. She approaches it curiously; noticing Porcia inside. It is a well lit room, exposing strips of sunlight forcing their way through the closed louvred shutters, gently catching the dust that floats to the ground as she shakes a thin woollen shawl and casts it over her shoulders. Turning to glance at the tall warrior poised in the doorway, she smiles. "Hi there. I suppose the governor sent you. Please, do come inside."

Xena strides in slowly. "Yes, he did." She sits at the foot of Porcia’s bed and glances discreetly at the young woman walking toward the shutter. Porcia pushes it open and gazes out toward the green, hilly pastures. Everything was so much calmer outside. The stillness of the humid air warmed her soft face and relaxed her heavy brow. "I suppose I should be afraid of you. I am aware of your wild battles with the Romans, you have quite a reputation in Rome. But I know you’re not here to fight us this time, you’re here to save an innocent child. I understand your reasons for hating us, Xena. I’m not proud to be a Roman, I’m just lucky, I guess."

Xena smiles ironically, curling her upper lip as if to snarl. "You think so, do you? she asks.

"I know he’s been challenged by Decimus Brutus’ army, Xena. I’m not a child. Too much has happened in the past, I’ve had to grow up quickly."

"What has happened? I need to know," the warrior asks hesitantly, apprehensive of this young girls reply. Xena stands tall and slowly strides toward the opened shutters and glances out toward the well defined hills. "What has happened in the past, Porcia?"

"There was this Greek warrior woman," Porcia mumbles sourly. "She crossed the waters and tried to kill my husband, General Marcus Brutus."

Xena suddenly loses eye contact with Porcia, feeling shame at the pain she had caused these two families, but at the time, although her reasons had seemed justified, there also seemed no forgiveness for her bumbling actions.

"Governor Gaius was blamed by Decimus Brutus for my husbands attack. Gaius failed to aid Marcus Brutus with a report from Macedonia when he allowed this large army of Greek pillages to leave Greece unannounced. It seemed that when my husband was assaulted by them and suffered amnesia, his transformation destroyed Decimus Brutus’ conspiratione to assassinate Caesar until Marcus finally relented. Marcus isn’t the man he used to be. This Greek army were professionals. I stood and watched the Romans fail and witnessed the onslaught of my husband to this crazed warrior woman. She fought like Callisto, I’m certain it was her." She gazes constantly through the open shutter as if in search of an answer in the breeze. "He’s not to be trusted. His revenge has been bitter on the governor’s family. Animosity can’t change the past." She turns to Xena with a painful stare. "If you ask me, Decimus Brutus hasn’t been in touch with his real self since Octavius became emperor, but now he’s totally out of control in his quest to rule Rome. They say his jealousy for this new inheritor to Caesar’s empire will cause him to murder the child before Rome locates him. Do all you can to find that child and bring it into safety, Xena. Only then can our minds be at peace."

For a sweet young lady, the inner strength of her Roman blood proved she had a streak of vengeance in her soul and Xena was well aware of who her target was.

Decimus Brutus marks a circle on the map bordering the wastelands around the small farm villages. "I’ll merge my plans to find the child with Governor Gaius and protect your villages from any outlanders searching for Caesar’s heir. I can eliminate any rumours of a child being born if you can locate him and bring him to me. I’ll prevent the disclosure of the infant’s identity in the safety of my fortress and at nightfall we will accompany you to this secret location you talk of."

Gabrielle stalls, wishing to express her gratitude to the Roman general but sensing apprehension at the very idea of his company through Greece, especially disclosing this young inheritors inhabitancy to Rome. She was widely appreciated through the land; she didn’t want that impairing by the sight of a Roman aiding her assistance. The locals trust in her would soon plummet if they thought her conspiracy with Rome could destroy their future, but she had to consider the child.

"It’s my final offer, Gabrielle. Take it or leave it. I promise your people that Greece will be a province of it’s own oncemore with the right leader. This will be the beginning of a new world and with your help to thank for it."

Gabrielle spreads a victorious smile across her face. "Thank you so much, General Brutus. I’ll send word to Governor Gaius immediately that you wish to conspire."

Gabrielle dashes out of the general’s quarters and back down the spiralling steps. Noticing Marcus talking to a stable boy, she calmly strides over the preparation yard now fading in daylight as late afternoon approaches, and informs him of the latest news. "Marcus, it’s going well. Decimus Brutus says he’ll forge with Governor Gaius’ plans to locate Caesar’s heir and retain him in Greece."

He spins around to acknowledge her, a deep frown creasing his brow.

Gabrielle grins triumphantly, "that’s exactly what we wanted, it couldn’t be going any better," she sneers, her voice rousing contemptuously.

Marcus smiles at her face expressing her success as her eyes dance about with excitation. But he was curious of what the plans lay in store for her. She was a Greek after all, and they were Romans. It was odd, he thought, that Decimus Brutus should wish to conspire with Gaius concerning a task they could perform themselves. It was obvious that Gabrielle seemed to trust him, but would Decimus trust her. He releases her gaze. "You’ve just prevented a battle and bought your country a future to look forward to. Not a bad days work, I’d say," he convinces her as he straps a saddle onto a horses back, his smile vanishing as rapidly as it formed.

She smiles sweetly, realising it is time for her to depart his company. "I have to leave now. I have a friend talking with Governor Gaius concerning Caesar’s child. I must inform her of Decimus Brutus’ news so they can make arrangements to find this heir."

As she walks over to the stable containing her horse, Marcus calls to her. "Hey, before you leave, come with me. I’d like to show you something."

Marcus surprisingly grasps her hand and leads her up another armoured tower of the fortress.

This one is taller and possesses Brutus’ flag at the very tip. They climb the coiling steps to it’s peak where an eighty foot high view of the beautiful sunset around them can be seen. Gabrielle rises to the height of the turret and gazes at the view admiringly.

"It’s beautiful," she exclaims as she leans over the stone wall. "You can see for miles although the land is barely lit."

Marcus rests his hands over her shoulders delicately. Her inner feelings admiringly respond to this tender transformation as he spins her around to consume the rest of the view. About a quarter of a mile away is a small, stone building resembling that of a medieval church. It’s visible candle light flickers away silently in the evening twilight. "See that over there," he points, directing her glance toward the sacred place of worship. It’s a temple. Worshippers have been visiting this shrine for many years. They pray for the restoration of life or just to marvel at the tranquillity of such a holy place."

Gabrielle listens intently to Marcus Brutus’ words. He had certainly changed. Whatever had happened to him, had transformed him for the better, even though she sensed a sadness and loneliness inside him. " They say the temple is devoted to Asclepius, the Greek god of healing," he continues. "There’s a love story to accompany it if you’d like me to tell it."

With a pleading smile, Gabrielle nods her head agreeably. "I adore love stories."

They both look out toward the pilgrimage once more as the sun descends rapidly beyond the tree tops.

"Legend has it," continued Marcus, "that Sarah, daughter of a very noble family, was courted by the local chieftain called Dion. He tried to seduce her but failed and Sarah ran for sanctuary to the temple. Tragically, before she could reach the sacred place of worship, Dion caught up with her and in a jealous rage, killed her. When he realised what he’d done, he prayed that his love be restored to life if he vowed to love and cherish her. The miracle of the restoration of such a beautiful, young girl was told in ballads throughout the land and the temple quickly became associated with healing."

Gabrielle glances at Marcus. "So the girl came back to life. That’s lovely. A place of worship like that can only portray an overwhelming aura of peace."

"Hey---would you like me to ride with you? To make sure you get to your destination safely. It’s beginning to get dark, it may not be safe around here."

She was slightly unnerved by his proposition. She wasn’t yet convinced that his respect for her was completely genuine. But while he was by her side, she knew of his whereabouts. Surely, that was more convenient in the dark. "How about you walk my horse for me," she laughed, not really wanting a man of Marcus’ rank to see how she struggled to dominate her half tamed horse, "I’m not really very good at this horse riding thing."

Re-entering the preparation yard, Marcus opens up the stable gate and reappears with her horse, his hooves crunching above the gritty surface of enclosed ground. "He’s a fine means of conveyance. Where did you obtain such a prize?"

Gabrielle gazes aimlessly, reminiscing how Xena allured her trophy from the palms of three very agitated horse thieves. "I---I borrowed him---from some old acquaintances," she replied.

"You have some fine friends, Gabrielle. They’re very lucky. Firm belief in the reliance of others is extremely rare around here, although why you choose to ride without a saddle is beyond my imagination."

Gabrielle sneered. It was beyond hers also. "Erm---I don’t suppose you have a spare saddle in there, do you? I must admit---having my saddle pinched in the last village is leaving me a little tender in certain places."

Marcus smiles, slightly flushed. "No problem. I’ll strap it on for you straight away."

He turns out with the leather seat, identical to the one that Xena had confiscated from her originally and secures it to the horses back.

"I hope you don’t mind riding on a Roman saddle. I’m afraid it’s all we have."

"No problem. Anything is better than sitting on raw hide; believe me."

Grasping the reins, Marcus steadies the horse with a tame manner as Gabrielle attempts to mount her belongings once more. Holding the narrow strap that hangs loosely from the bridle, Gabrielle places foot in stirrup and when mounted comfortably, Marcus guides them as they exit the solid, wooden doors at the entrance of the fortress.

Leading to the outskirts of the compound, they retrace the mile through the tall line of forest trees, back to the glade where Xena had requested Gabrielle’s presence.

The sun that had been shining so beautifully at midday was now playing hide and seek with pillows of white and grey overshadowing clouds blowing over from the west as dusk rolled rapidly inward.

"This friend," Marcus continues. "Does she also share this mutual passion for peace that you have?"

Thinking of Xena, she smiles. "She’s the best Marcus. She’ll be so pleased with me when I tell her that my meeting with yourself and Decimus Brutus has been a success." A little shocked too, she imagined.

Marcus takes a sidelong glance toward the small warrior mounted beside him, a sparkle in his eye as he greets her face a with a tender smile. "You enjoy your job, don’t you, Gabrielle? Do you not miss home?"

Gabrielle inhales deeply, sensing the start of another life long story approaching.

"Have you ever heard of Poteidaia?"

Marcus cuts in, "one of the small farm villages---yes, I’ve visited there. They provide the legions with produce."

"That’s correct," quipped Gabrielle. "One of the finest villages around; or so they say." Silence.

"So," asks Marcus, "why did you feel the need leave?"

"Because," continues Gabrielle drably. "It was too dull, too repetitive and too tedious. I was only known as the daughter of Herodotus and when I was betrothed to be married to one of the village men, it was just too much. Pity really, he turned out to be a good man."

Marcus gazes ahead, a jealous pang in his heart as he loses Gabrielle to her thoughts.

"So what is your definition of a good man? Power; maybe. Strength."

"Oh definitely, but in a different context. The way I see it, he should have the power to swoop me off my feet and yet the strength to provide me eternally with his undying love." Suddenly Gabrielle notices Marcus gazing up at her theatrical performance and flushes sweetly. "I mean; that’s just the way I see it. I don’t need a man to protect me."

"I noticed," Marcus grins mischievously. "May I ask the name of this good man you missed out on."

"Perdicas." Silence. "His name’s Perdicas. And I didn’t miss the chance to marry him. We found each other again." More silence.

"I see, so does your husband not mind you wandering around; talking to dangerous Roman’s like myself?"

"I guess not, Marcus. You see---Perdicas is dead; he was killed."

Marcus pulls on the horses reins and brings their journey to a sudden stop. As he gazes up toward her, just the sound of wind rustling through the trees attempts to cut through the penetrating stare they hold on one another.

"I’m sorry, Gabrielle. Please tell me it wasn’t the act of a Roman."

Gabrielle smiles sweetly. "Hey, Romans can’t take the blame for everything, you know. There are worse out there; believe me."

Marcus leads the horse at a steady pace once more, holding tight to the nervous, restless tug of the rein.

Funny, thought Gabrielle. I never imagined I’d ever walk through Greece with a Roman for company, let alone, Marcus Brutus of all people. But she quite enjoyed the thrill of the handsome general alongside her.

"Gabrielle, when I lost my memory in battle," Marcus continues, "I had no identity to my soul. I knew my name; my origin, but I didn’t know myself---do you understand what I’m trying to say?"

"All too well, Marcus," agreed Gabrielle. "I suffered a similar situation back home. I didn’t know who I wanted to be, I just knew that I didn’t want to be who I was."

Marcus points up to her excitedly. "That’s exactly it, Gabrielle. I don’t want to be who I am."

She quirks her lips knowingly. "But the only trouble is, Marcus," Gabrielle points out, "is that I had to learn that when you worry about your outer beauty, your inner strength is lost. I didn’t find my inner strength until I found myself, but some people aren’t so fortunate. Sometimes it’s best not to spend your life searching for answers that aren’t there. You may never find them. If you harbour such feelings in your heart, you will never be touched by the real beauty in your life."

"But I don’t want to be General Marcus Brutus, I don’t like who I was; who I am. In fact, I’d give anything to be a Greek right now."

Gabrielle laughs humorously. "Hey---it’s not all cracked up to be as much as much fun as you think it is, you know. Having warlords, Romans and Greek gods breathing down your neck day and night, it’s hard going on the average Greek."

"You’re not the average Greek though, are you? You’ve done okay for yourself so far, and look what you’ve achieved today. I’d say your lifestyle suits my needs. I’m not the conquering sort any longer like Decimus Brutus. I leave the decisions to him"

Shame, thinks Gabrielle. He was about the only conqueror who had ever been close enough to succeed.

"What I achieved today wasn’t just done for Greece," she announces. "It was to sufficiently meet the needs of peace. Whether it be saving Caesar’s heir or preventing a war, I can’t abide with the innate abhorrence of bloodshed; Roman or Greek. Do you see what I mean? I don’t hate all Romans and I don’t love all Greeks. There are good and bad in all cultures. Sometimes you just have to rise above who the enemy is and see them for who they really are. We all laugh and shed tears for the same reasons. At the end of the day, we’re all the same inside. We shouldn’t need the proof of our spilt blood to establish that."

Unexpectedly, Marcus pulls abruptly on the horses reigns and places his left hand over his sword, his face expressing anxiety and panic.

"What is it, Marcus? Gabrielle whispers. "What’s wrong?"

Marcus gazes around, spinning about in tormented circles. "Just a hunch I have, Gabrielle. I sense these eyes like they’re burning into my back."

Withdrawing his sword, Marcus searches the close surroundings with caution, examining every possible tree in his view as if it were about to attack him.

"Probably just the wind, Marcus. Relax, the evening forest holds some very strange noises."

But Marcus couldn’t relax. Beads of sweat begin to form across his brow and he pales in complexion.

Gabrielle shuffles uneasily, her sense of security needing sudden reassurance regarding Marcus’ bizarre behaviour. She lifts herself from the saddle and slides down to greet her pallid companion, approaching him with extreme caution.

"Marcus, it’s all right; really, it’s just the sound of the forest; probably an animal or something."

She gazes into his startled, brown eyes. "What is it? What are you afraid of?"

"I’m not afraid," he snaps. He slides his sword back into it’s sheath, storming past her toward the horse and rests himself to sit on a dusty boulder. Gabrielle follows and parks herself next to him, grasping hold of his hand tightly to make him aware that she shared his grief, whatever it was.

"It’s not a crime to be afraid, Marcus. If there really was something out there, I would have been afraid too."

"It’s not being afraid of what’s out there, Gabrielle. It’s being afraid to---to kill what’s out there. I don’t mind giving someone a good going over if I have to, but one day, this gut feeling I have---this stalling motion I go through is going to get me killed," he gazes at her, "or somebody else. Sometimes, I just want to hide away. Everyday, I work until I’m mule-tired, but I still go to bed scared every night. There was this warlord, Gabrielle, the one you talk of. I do remember him. This scar I have on my face was from his savage attack. I held my sword to his throat, I was filled with

so much anger, yet I couldn’t kill him, Gabrielle. Despite all this anger I had for him, I knew it

wasn’t right. Even he had a reason to exist. How could I let him walk away like that after he tried to murder me. I have no faith in myself any longer. This life I have---it’s like the flame of a lamp, where there’s no more oil, it can no longer burn." Marcus releases Gabrielle’s hand and rises tall.

"I’m going back to the fortress. You’d be better off continuing without me."

"No." Gabrielle scrambles to her feet. "You can’t run away from your feelings, Marcus. Sometimes you have to stand and face them. You’ve changed; that’s all. Life has to be lived forwards, but it can only be understood backwards. You have to learn to live with your past. Until you do so, you can’t move on."

"No. I can’t endanger you any longer, Gabrielle. Can’t you see that? I’m just a liability to you."

"Marcus. Believe me; I do know how you feel. I know what it’s like to feel a liability. Always having someone to look out for me. But when you realise that that person will do anything for you; will even die for you, well---it changes the way you feel. I’d like you to walk me back; really. I know you’re not afraid to use your sword if you have to, I promise you are not a liability. I want to help."

Marcus holds the excitable horse firmly in position once more as Gabrielle ascends her horse. They move at a comfortable pace, through the trees and toward the clearing further ahead of them.

"Have you ever killed anyone, Gabrielle? Have you ever experienced taking someone’s life from them and felt their pain surge through your own heart?"

Gabrielle desperately wanted to change the subject, but Marcus needed to talk about his fear and she had to be there to listen for him. She closes her eyes in anticipation, responding to her answer. "Yes, Marcus. I have. I lost my blood innocence a few years ago."

He gazes up at her. "How did you feel; that very first time?"

Gabrielle briefly reminisces back to the murdering of Dahaks priestess, that very first shedding of blood that broke her heart. How it brought the birth of Hope and all the deaths, betrayals and horror the killing had brought with it. The burden and grief of taking away this young woman’s life still weighed heavily on her conciense. The memories, the guilt, the sorrow, but most of all, the blood on her hands. "I---I thought I was saving a friend," she confesses. "This crazed worshipper was going to use him as a sacrifice. He shouted out my name to save him. She was going to plunge this blade right into the pit of his stomach. I turned around and I just found myself watching her fall to the ground---this dagger in my hand with her blood drenched all over it. I’d been tricked; used. My innocence had been the doorway for---well, I suppose it’s all unimportant now. I’m drifting from the question a little. What’s done is done, you have to learn to accept that. If you can’t, you hold the guilt for the rest of your days. I had to learn the hard way. What about you?

"Me---I’ve killed so many times it’s hard to remember, according to my journal that is."

"Your journal," she asks baffled.

"I have no memory, remember." He taps the side of his head amusingly with his fore finger.

"Oh, yes. Good joke. But if you can’t remember, then how can you feel it?"

"If you read about some of the Roman conquests in my diary, you’d feel it. I find it hard to come to terms with my past; the sort of person I was."

It brought back thoughts of Xena. She too had to come to terms with her despicable past. Fighting for the side of good was her only repentance, but Gabrielle still wasn’t certain if the warrior would ever come to terms with her killing of the innocent. But she had learned to love Xena for who she had become, not for who she was. Whatever Marcus had done in the past, it had been deserving of contempt, but she felt sure he felt regret and self reproach. It was best to change for the better as a result of remorse or contrition for one’s sins.

"Some Roman I turned out to be," Marcus pipes up suddenly. "I was once a great general, strong and proud. Now all I am is weak. I don’t have the courage to be a soldier any longer."

"You’re okay. Being Roman means you are related to Rome; it’s people and it’s culture. No one said you had to consent to being a killer. You’re not the first Roman to disown it’s political powers. Shame most Romans aren’t like you are now, and Greeks come to that."

He glances up toward her, a cheeky smile across his dimpled face. She quirks the corners of her lips and grins back. She’d never seen sincerity in his expression before.

"Everyone has their own personal traits, you know," Gabrielle assures him. "I mean---people laugh at me because I buy useless things like lucky horse shoes."

"I had a horse shoe on my wall once," Marcus confesses flatly.

"Oh, thank goodness for that. So you’re superstitious too."

"Not at all. It was a trophy. I ripped it from a horses hoof in battle. You see. I’m not such a nice Roman, after all."

"That was the past, Marcus," Gabrielle assures him. "You’re not that person any longer."

"But what if I can’t redeem myself, Gabrielle. What if that person is really me?"

Gabrielle sighs, bringing with it a short silence. "I know someone who’s in a similar situation. You have to choose who you want to be. No one else can do that. You can’t be that person unless you believe in yourself. That’s the first rule for self satisfaction. If it means anything---I believe in you."

"Thanks Gabrielle. What you have to say does mean something to me."

Leaving the forest behind them, the rest of the mile long journey passed rapidly. Gabrielle was definitely growing fond of him, Marcus Brutus or not, but maybe it was best that Xena knew as little about their growing relationship as possible. The warrior wasn’t quite as forgiving as she. As they leave the forest behind them, they enter the clear, grassy glade where Xena had arranged a specified point to converge.

"This is it, Marcus. This is the spot." Gabrielle dismounts her horse excitedly and searches around the trees for the Warrior Princess. "She isn’t here yet," she decides, "you’d better make yourself scarce anyway. She doesn’t welcome Romans with open arms, especially when---well---especially when she’s on a mission. Take my horse if you like. Ride him back to your fortress and then you can come and collect me tomorrow at dawn when the sun is rising in the western sky. I’ll be able to inform your general of the plans that need to be drawn out."

She reaches toward the finely, trimmed saddle to release her belongings and Marcus grabs hold of her hand. He raises her fingers toward his lips and kisses them tenderly, never releasing his gaze from hers. "It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, my lady."

He learns well from Decimus Brutus, she thinks. "Thank you, kind sir," she answers and gives him a playful curtsy.

He mounts the horse with complete authority and dashes away, each hoof beneath him under his total control.

As she watches him ride away into the dusky night, she smiles contentedly. Could this transformation in Marcus Brutus be her fantasy coming to real life. Could he be the knight in glinting armour. Giving him a last wave, he disappears into the distance. She sits and rests on a cooling mass of rock, reaching into her bag for her scrolls under the faint sickle of a moon. But her mind was only as clear as the moonlight.

Governor Gaius approaches Porcia’s room with a stranger by his side. "Excuse me ladies. Xena, this is Cato. He’s a Roman politician and advisor. Please accompany to my quarters. I wish to discuss an important matter with you."

Xena joins the governor as he leads her back into his quarters, her eyes closely guarding Cato, burning into his back as Porcia follows on swiftly.

Cato turns and spies the young girl to his rear. "Please, Porcia go to your room. We have important matters to discuss. Governor Gaius won’t appreciate---"

"I don’t care what Governor Gaius thinks any longer," she throws off her shawl, "this one implicates me too. My husband may have survived, but there is no reason why this innocent child should now be slaughtered due to someone’s callous mistake. We need as many people involved as possible. Soldiers and civilians"

Xena grabs Cato by the arm as he approaches her. "With all due respect, she’s not a child anymore. She must make her own decisions in life. I know you only want to protect her but you can’t and shouldn’t wrap her up. I have a daughter also. There’s going to be times when we have to let go. Your time is now." Xena gazes around the room. "If she wants to be here, I say let her. It’s extremely difficult for a woman to be heard in these sorts of circumstances. After all, she’s already aware of Decimus Brutus’ propositions."

Cato inhales deeply as he gives his daughter a lingering stare. It was true. She wasn’t a child any longer, she was a beautiful, young lady. She possessed the face of her mother yet the voice of her father, but still he felt the need to embalm her delicate life with his undying fatherly love. To bound it around her so tightly that no one could harm her. As he said, he was a politician; not a warrior. "Very well," he announces.

Governor Gaius spreads the maps over the table hesitantly. "Xena, Cato and I have expressed our opinions and have come to a decision. We’re going to have to refuse your offer to forge. We would merge if we thought that Decimus Brutus’ word was sacred. But it isn’t. He’s simulating the promise of making Greece a free province of Rome once more, but the discovery of Caesar’s heir is not to protect the child from the Roman empire---it is to kill it, just as he wants the death of Octavius. They will be eliminated - he will do anything to be certain of claiming Rome. He’s come to feign the defence of your country, but all he wants to do is rule it."

Xena shakes her head scornfully. "Another innocent child sent to the slaughter. My friend Gabrielle is over there now. She’s also trying to convince him to maintain Caesar’s heir behind Greek walls before Rome locates him."

Rolling up the maps, the governor turns to give Xena some valuable advice. "We meant your villages no harm, Xena. But they will come now and they will crush your hometowns to find this child. We have to be ready. Whatever they tell your friend, they’re evil. They will come---and they will conquer. Without Rome’s acknowledgement, I could really use your experience this time. Can I trust that you’ll take command of this Greek army?"

Gazing out the shutters, Xena notices the daylight fading. "It’s nearly dusk. I’m riding out to meet Gabrielle. I have to get her away from Decimus Brutus before he intimidates her with his lies. We’ll be back before midnight---then it’s time to make plans and finish Caesar’s unruly son once and for all."

Within moments, Gabrielle’s intimate thoughts are interrupted as she hears the hooves of Argo approaching from behind. She spins around and through the trees at the edge of the opposite side of the glade, sees the burley warrior dismounting her horse.

Gabrielle rolls up her parchment and dashes over to her. "You’re late, Xena", she calls sardonically, pushing the scroll back into one of her shoulder bags. "But at least it’s good news. General Brutus says he’ll forge legions with Governor Gaius and retain Caesar’s heir in Greece. We did it again," she grins triumphantly.

But Xena’s face carries a serious expression of doubt as she marches over to her. "Gabrielle, it’s not good news at all. General Brutus is not Marcus Brutus as I first thought. He is Decimus Brutus and he’s Caesar’s other illegitimate heir. His legion don’t just want to detect this half Greekinheritor, they want to kill him and they’re going to crush every one of our Greek villages to be certain of his death."

Gabrielle’s triumphant smile vanishes, refusing to believe the warriors negative term of speech. "Well---maybe he is Caesar’s son and maybe they did want to occupy our villages for a search, but they say they’re not interested in provoking unnecessary violence in locating the child."

"Gabrielle, Governor Gaius has informed me of Decimus Brutus’ leadership. I’ve learned that his legion is evil. Up until now, Decimus Brutus has failed to come in line to the empire after Caesar’s adopted son, Octavius. I think he’s planning to murder both inheritor’s so he can rule Rome. But his destiny will destroy the world. His talk is limited to political power and nothing else. If we stand by, Decimus Brutus will crush our farm villages and kill Caesar’s heir in the process---obliterating Amphipolis and Poteidaia at the same time."

Unconvinced by Xena’s news, Gabrielle continues to defend Decimus Brutus. "But I’ve just spoken with him, Xena. He gave me his word. He agrees that building a wall of soldiers around the---"

"Gabrielle." Xena’s anger bursts, shocking her friend as her voice rises in irritation at the thought of Gabrielle trusting a Roman’s word over her own.

"His word means nothing. Listen to me. He’s a Roman general. He will come, regardless of his promise. We have to be prepared. My decision has been made." Xena turns to leave the forest, her plans already taking motion. "I have to go."

Watching her friend turn and march away with the attitude of a scorned warrior, Gabrielle realises exactly what she is scheming beforehand. "You’re going to fight them, aren’t you?" she calls after her. "Xena, I gave him my word that there would be no violence. That’s what you told me to do. How can you do this to me? I’ll be going against everything I stand for."

Stopping to turn back, Xena pities her with a lingering stare. "I’m sorry, Gabrielle, but there will always be conflict between Greece and Rome. We have no choice. My decision is final."

"You’re sorry---we have no choice---just what are you saying, Xena? Do you expect me to just walk away with you after simulating peace so you can take part in this ridiculous contest?" She shakes her head, Xena’s weak apology remaining unconvincing. "Why can’t you just use minimal force when you’re faced with danger?"

Marching over to where she is standing, Xena looks her in the eye. "What were you expecting, Gabrielle? A peaceful execution. You just don’t get it, do you? These people have dangerous minds. They don’t care for others. Power and greatness is all they desire. We mean nothing to them. You mean nothing to them."

Flashes of her time spent with Marcus Brutus spin around her head in dizzy circles. She has to believe that his transformation is genuine. She knows when a person possesses a good soul, just as she had always held her faith in Xena, despite her reputation.

"No Xena, you don’t get it. I think you’re just letting another army overrule your senses."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Realising she has already started to convey what her heart wishes to say, Gabrielle continues to proceed. "You just can’t wait to lead another army back into battle again, can you? Just like the old Xena. You just can’t wait to kill a Roman in cold blood---whoever they happen to be---just because they belong to the man who scorned your love for him. Your lust was to kill every last Roman with your bare hands, if you had to---remember."

Seizing her by her arm, anger wells up inside the warrior. "I explained to you that sometimes I have to fight. It’s what I was before I met you and it’s what I am now."

"What happened to compassion, Xena? Bravery can’t protect innocent blood once it’s spilt."

"Sympathy won’t win a war, Gabrielle. Sometimes to fight is the only way forward.

"Yeah, well---sometimes words are stronger than steel. It’s just that most of the time they can’t be heard for the repugnant excitement to wrath." Gabrielle snatches her arm away from Xena and raises her eyebrows at her in silent wonderment.

"Yeah---like I said," repeats Xena with a jumbled expression, "pity isn’t one of my essential qualities."

"So you’re changing the plan at the last minute again. Never once asking for my opinion. Well,

I’m sick of being second in command. Sometimes, what I have to say should matter. You’ve done this before. Always changing your plans without so much as a ‘hey Gabrielle, using the mirrors to strike down a giant like Gareth sounds great?’ Always pushing me around from pillar to post, sticking me behind the lines unless you choose otherwise. Forcing me watch the injured die when I could be saving them every time you decide to wage a battle. Now you go and find another army who want to play about with your expertise in the art of war and your ego flies higher than the Olympian gods. Well I’m sorry, Xena, but this time you’re on your own."

Xena creases her face patronisingly and curls her upper lip. "You talk too much, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle closes her eyes with frustration.

"Look Gabrielle, my baby daughter is a sojourner in one of those villages. I’m not going to let the Romans kill her. It’s bad enough that the Greek gods are hunting her. If you can’t handle that, then that’s your problem. But I will go into a battle---with or without you by my side."

Gabrielle steps closer, attempting to be heard over the their turbulent thoughts. "I don’t want them to take the villages either, Xena. Don’t forget I have family to worry for too."

"Then come with me, Gabrielle." Xena seizes her by the shoulders aggressively, her eyes wide and dancing with fire. "Together we can defeat Decimus Brutus and save this mysterious child---if it exists---what do you say?"

Tired of continually repeating herself, Gabrielle makes a final plea. "Xena, he doesn’t want to fight. They want to join forces. You’ll only start a war by proceeding with this infatuation that you have."

Xena releases her disappointingly and pushes her away. "You’re wrong, Gabrielle. They don’t want to merge, they want our land and the chance to kill an innocent child. My patience and time is running thin. Value my words. They’re threatening to crush all of Greece, there’s no word of independence. I’ve heard this done before. They promise freedom and when backs are turned, they invade the lands. Decimus Brutus’ legion is strong and powerful---and Roman. They will come and they’ll flatten every hope you ever had of peace."

Gabrielle realises that her warrior friend has already made her passing of judgment despite anything she may say.

"If you decide to make war, Xena---my father will die protecting Poteidaia. I won’t stand by and let that happen."

"And if we don’t make war---my baby daughter will die when Decimus crushes Amphipolis. I won’t stand by and let that happen."

"So you’re going to fight against my wishes." The question Gabrielle delivered was dispassionate, but looking into her eyes, Xena knows she has made the right decision. If she disregards a Roman’s impulses due to the concern over her friends wounded feelings, the consequences could be fatal. To Gabrielle also.

"Yes, Gabrielle. I have to fight or Decimus will prove to be a much worse adversary than Julius Caesar."

Xena turns and Gabrielle follows on, a smirk of anger across her face. "I know what’s wrong with you, Xena. You just can’t accept that I may be capable of being right for once. What are you afraid of? That the strength of evil is more powerful than the might of good?"

Xena spins round, fury creasing her face. "Don’t be ridiculous, I know about these things, Gabrielle. I ruled an army like his. The might of good doesn’t exist in some circumstances. I understand what works."

"Well---if you send Gaius’ army to battle, Decimus Brutus will be forced to fight back. You do know that, don’t you? A war in Greece will be on your hands, not the Romans. There will be no peace for our villages."

"Peace," Xena patronises. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ll be hopeless without me."

But this time it was Gabrielle who turned to leave. As she strides away back into the direction of Decimus Brutus’ compound, Xena calls to her. "Just where do you think you’re going, young lady?"

But Gabrielle is finished with talking. "Leave me alone, Xena. I need time to think."

"To think about what?" asks the warri