Destiny’s Dominion

Chapter Twenty Six: Lugdunum
Continued
There was a long period of quietness around the campfire as the dry wood popped and sent tiny showers of sparks flying, before they were captured by the larger flames and drawn back into the whole. Iolaus poked at the fire again, lost in the painful memories of the past that Toris had stirred up.

"After what she had done to you, how in the name of Zeus did you and Hercules, ever become friends with her?" asked Toris in bewilderment.

Iolaus smiled again, "It wasn't easy for me. But Hercules .. he sees things that I don't, although he wasn't too friendly towards her at first. He'd heard rumours of raiders in the Parthian province and had gone to help the people. He found villagers slaughtered and crucified, learned that your sister was responsible and swore to bring her to justice. As he tracked her he found an entire village that had been slaughtered. Men women and children. Nothing had been left alive before the place was torched. He said it was one of the worst things he'd ever seen." Iolaus said softly.

"Oh gods," choked Toris, "I'd heard of some of the atrocities that she'd done, but I'd always heard she spared women and children."

"She did," agreed his companion, "but this time she hadn't been leading her army, her chief lieutenant, Darphus, had and he was a butcher. Xena was away north with her scouts and returned to her army only after the village had been sacked. She saved a baby there, the only survivor of the massacre, and for that Darphus was able to turn her army against her and eject her as leader."

"So what did she do?" questioned Toris, "Surely that didn't make her change her ways?"

"Not quite," agreed Iolaus bleakly, "Darphus put Xena through a gauntlet. Her own men beat her with fists and clubs to within an inch of her life. No one had ever survived one before ... but she did."

"I'll kill him! If I ever find the murdering whoreson, I swear I'll kill him," cursed Toris his eyes alight with anger, "Whatever Xena once was, she's still my sister!"

"Xena took care of that a few years ago ... twice!" smiled the shorter man.

"Twice?" was the disbelieving question.

"Give me time and I'll get there," Iolaus told him. "After the gauntlet, Xena figured the only way to get her army back was to kill Hercules and take his head as a trophy."

"Whew!" whistled his audience.

"Yeah," agreed the blonde with a grin, "Anyway, she must have been hurting like hades from the beating she'd taken, but she tracked down Herc and challenged him one on one. Damn near beat him too, by all accounts .. even as beat up as she was."

"Then why didn't Hercules capture or kill her?" asked Toris in surprise.

Iolaus shrugged, "I told you Hercules doesn't like to kill and I think he saw something in your sister that even she didn't know was there."

"What was that?" wondered the taller man, "I'm her brother and even I could see she deserved to be tried for her crimes."

"Well Hercules told her later that he saw the goodness in her heart," answered Iolaus seriously.

Toris nearly choked on his last swallow of the tea, "What! C'mon Iolaus. My sister was a bloodthirsty, power crazed, murdering madwoman and Hercules saw the goodness in her heart? You have got to be kidding."

"No, straight up," he told him still seriously, "and if you think about it he's been proven right, because since then she's turned her life around and shown that goodness over and over again."

Toris shook his head as he tried to get his mind around the concept before asking, "Okay so what happened after she tried to kill him?"

"He let her go."

"He what?" the bigger man looked stunned.

"He let her go," repeated Iolaus, "He figured that she had some things to work out for herself, and he had to go and stop Darphus and her ex-army. She turned up later in the town of Parthia when Herc was in bad trouble, and Darphus looked like killing him. Instead she killed Darphus and helped scatter the remnants of the army. That's when she decided to stay with Herc for a while."

Digesting that, Toris suddenly realized he hadn't heard how Iolaus had managed to reconcile his differences with Xena, "So what happened when you found out about that, huh?"

Iolaus looked a little grim as he threw some more wood on the fire, "I heard about Xena rampaging through the area and came to stop her. I stumbled across Herc and his friend, Salmoneus, and exchanged some news. I told them I'd come to get Xena and Herc edged around the question saying that the real problem was Darphus," he saw Toris' puzzled look, "You see Ares resurrected Darphus on the condition that he kill Herc and Xena.

"I suggested that we should get both of them, and that was about when she turned up back in the camp. I tell you Toris, it made my blood boil. Here was the woman who had made a total fool out of me and tried to kill me and Herc, wandering around like she owned the place. I told Hercules he was a fool and I would have left if he hadn't talked me out of it. It hurt seeing her there .. and it hurt knowing that I was till attracted to her .. even after what she'd done!" He snorted in self contempt.

"Anyway, I stayed .. grudgingly. The atmosphere was very strained and I wasn't willing to see that she'd changed or give her the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't until she saved my life in a little skirmish with Darphus and his men, that I agreed to try and forget the past. Herc and Xena between them were enough to send Darphus back to Hades where he belonged, while Salmoneus and I tidied up the army. Since then, Xena's proven herself to be a good friend many times over. I'm glad we got over the problems we had at the start, she was worth saving then and is even more so now," he smiled, "She'd wade through fire to get me or Herc out of trouble, how could I do any less for her?"

"Hey," Iolaus prodded Toris in the ribs to get his attention, "You gonna sit there and dream all day?"

"You got any better ideas?" he asked gruffly.

"Well we could go and see about getting a room, a bath, some hot food, a mug of ...."

"Okay, okay," broke in Toris, "You've talked me into it."

They headed into Lugdunum and found a strategically placed inn with a room that gave them a view of both the Prefecture and the Garrison. They took a quick bath, ordered drinks and food to be brought to their room, and settled down to await the arrival of Caesar and his entourage.

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It was late afternoon when the VIIth Legion arrived outside Lugdunum. As was normal, the army made camp outside the city, while the special duty maniple escorted the wagon, and Caesar, into the city to lodge in the Garrison. Toris and Iolaus had watched the arrival from the window of their room, but the canvass over the wagon had been drawn tight and they didn't get the hoped for sight of Xena. Still they maintained their watch on the barracks, and it was into the early evening when they saw a group of laughing legionaries heading away from the garrison, and into the city, obviously intent on relaxation.

"Not garrison soldiers," Toris pointed out.

"Looks like some of those that came in earlier," agreed Iolaus.

"Well some of them were given evening passes in Evignan," reminded the taller man.

"We could shadow them and see if we could pick up some news," suggested Iolaus tentatively.

"Risky," answered Toris sucking his teeth, then turned and grinned at his companion who was already smiling back at him, "Let's go."

They followed the six legionaries down into the city where the soldiers liked to carouse. It was an area full of gambling dens and whorehouses as well as cheap drinking establishments, that served barely drinkable wine. "What'd we come here for?" complained one man, as he grimaced at the taste in his cup, "We've got enough dinars to be somewhere where the wine is decent."

"Quit complaining, Marcellus," laughed another man slapping his friend on the back, "We've got everything here that we need for a really good night out, and we won't have to spend too much to enjoy it. I intend to keep some of my dinars so that I can invest it in some bets with the local grunts here when we get the chance."

"Shut up Quintus, you'll get us all flogged! You know that subject's off limits." growled a strapping soldier, a decurion from his rank badge.

As they drifted along behind the soldiers, Toris raised an eyebrow at Iolaus. It was the closest they'd got to anyone from the guard unit, and it was obvious that these men were part of that special maniple.

"Do you think we could separate a couple from their uniforms?" asked Toris in a whisper.

"Too risky. That unit's so tight they squeak. A couple of strange faces showing up would land in a cell before they could blink," answered Iolaus just as quietly, "but if we could separate one from the flock, and get him drunk enough, we might just find out something worthwhile."

Toris nodded his agreement, and they trailed after the six, waiting their chance to grab one of them. They went from inn to tavern, to gambling dive to tavern, until they finally ended up in a less than salubrious house of ill repute, where the legionaries intended to end their evening.

"Now what?" asked Toris as they stood outside the whorehouse.

Iolaus drew him around to the rear of the building and pointed to the verandah, "We need to get up there," he hissed, "If we can get inside, we can see where the Romans go and grab one when he's alone in one of the rooms."

Toris looked at him, "He won't be alone you know."

"What?" asked Iolaus not quite understanding what he meant, "Oh, you mean the girl. Don't worry I'll take care of her while you get the soldier."

"How come I get the hard job?" demanded Toris. "I thought of it first," grinned the shorter man, "C'mon." Toris boosted his companion up to the balcony, and grabbed Iolaus's hand when the smaller man offered it, managing to scramble up to join him. "Shhhh!" warned Iolaus pointedly with a finger to his lips.

They carefully made their way to an open window and listened for any sound of occupancy. Hearing nothing, they slipped inside a dingy, stale smelling room that had a heavy overlay of cheap perfume. Moving carefully, they crossed the floor to the door that opened up onto the landing.

Iolaus eased the door open and pressed his eye to the crack, "One of them's coming this way," he told Toris as he closed the door and moved back into the room.

"It's not that big decurion?" hissed the taller man plaintively, "Is it?"

"Nah," grinned Iolaus reassuringly, "It's Quintus."

"Oh Gods," muttered Toris feelingly, "The man's built like a ...."

"I lied," grinned Iolaus again, "It's the squirty one, Marcellus."

"Damn it Iolaus ..."

"Shhh!" the smaller man warned him, pressing himself back against the wall on one side of the door, with Toris on the other.

"C'mon honey," they heard a husky voiced woman say, "It's just in here."

"Take me to Elysium," they heard Marcellus reply eagerly.

The door opened and admitted the pair, arm in arm. Toris used the pommel of his sword to hit the soldier on the back of the head, while Iolaus grabbed the woman around the waist and clapped a hand firmly over her mouth. He bit off an oath as she kicked back at his shin and jabbed him in the ribs with a meaty elbow.

"Oooff!" he grunted as he lifted her forward and pushed the door closed with his foot, "Cut that out," he told her, "I'm not here to hurt you, we just want to borrow your playmate."

"Mmmph yrrrg rtt!" came back the muffled retort, before she bit his hand savagely.

"Ouch! " he yelped, as he tossed her on the bed, sat on her back and held her face down while he ripped a strip off the tatty sheet and used it to gag her. He heard Toris choking back a laugh behind him as he worked on tying the soldiers arms behind his back, "Do you want to come and give me a hand?" hissed Iolaus as he struggled to keep the woman still.

"Thought you wanted the easy job," answered the taller man as he ghosted to his friends side with a couple of rawhide strips. He quickly tied the woman's hands and feet, before Iolaus got off her.

"Zuuu crssee yrr ttt Hyydds" came the muffled yells of anger.

"You too sweetheart," answered Iolaus patting her cheek as he sucked the hand that had been bitten.

They pulled Marcellus up between them and ducked out of the window. Toris dropped down into the back courtyard where he caught the Roman as Iolaus lowered him, before the shorter man dropped down to join him. "Where are we gonna take him?" asked Toris.

Iolaus shrugged, "Back to the inn. If we wrap your cloak around him, no one will see his hands are tied, and if anyone asks we'll tell them he's a friend come to spend a few candlemarks drinking with us. Pull the hood up, and with you holding him one side and me the other, no one will be able to tell."

With their plan hastily made, they headed back to their room without mishap. Once they had Marcellus safely tied to a chair, Iolaus hurried down to the tap room and bought six bottles of good red wine, "Met an old friend," he explained, "and we've got a lot of catching up to do."

He shot back up stairs where he found that Toris had brought round their guest using the expediency of dumping a pitcher of water over him. He shook his head groggily and looked around the room with bleary eyes, "Where am I?" he asked sullenly.

"Oh no, no, no, my friend," answered Toris softly, "We ask the questions here."

"Who are you," Marcellus blinked, shaking his head to clear his brain, "Do I know you? You look awfully familiar."

"What have you got in the wagon that your squad so carefully guards?" asked Toris patiently.

"Don't know what you're talking about," came the answer.

"Yes you do," said Toris gripping the luckless Marcellus by the chin, "and you're going to tell us all about it." He smiled as the Roman shook his head free and watched as Iolaus handed the tall man a large tankard of wine, "Have a drink with us Marcellus."

**********

It was some candlemarks later when the two men left their guest propped up against the barracks wall. Toris' dark features were grim, and even the normally sunny Iolaus looked bleak. They hurried back to their inn and tried to decide what they should do next. "How long can she keep it up?" Toris questioned Iolaus, once they were alone in the room, "Marcellus says she's had three pit fights on her way here, and has taken some pretty heavy beatings in the process."

"She's won so far," Iolaus reminded him, "That healer, Patroclese, seems to be taking care of her injuries, and you know ... she's tough, right!"

"Yeah. But Damn it Iolaus! He's turning her into a gladiator." snarled Toris enraged by the idea. "I know she's about the best fighter around, but even she's gonna get really hurt after a while. You know gladiators don't have a very long lifespan. If we can't get her free it'll break Mother's heart."

"Caesar will keep her fit," Iolaus tried to soothe him, "You heard what Marcellus said, she's making him a fortune. If he can get her to the big fights in Rome, he'll clean up."

"We've got to get her away from him, Iolaus," said Toris softly.

"I know, my friend," agreed the shorter man patting Toris's shoulder in sympathy, "I know." He thought bleakly about what the continuous fighting and being treated like an animal would do to Xena. He prayed to the Gods that it wouldn't strip her of her hard won humanity and turn her back to the monster she had once been.

Chapter Twenty Six: Lugdunum
The two men sat silent on their sweating mounts as they looked down on the walled city of Lugdunum. It was not so very long since this area had been part of the loose Gaulish empire. But the Romans had worked their usual architectural miracles and had transformed the place below them from a rude peasant village into a thriving city with several impressive public buildings, and many luxurious looking villas in the surrounding fields and valleys.

Iolaus scratched at the thickening whiskers on his chin, and wondered yet again how anyone managed to put up with the irritation that the face fungus brought. A glance at his silently brooding companion caught him also rubbing the bushy bristles that had sprouted over his lower face.

Hearing the sound of marching feet, the pair drew their tired horses back into the shelter of the copse that they had stopped by. It was only a patrol, no more than a half century. Iolaus did a quick calculation and reckoned that there were less than forty men. He glanced at his companion and almost laughed. Hiding had become second nature to them, but truth to tell, they now looked very little like the descriptions that were posted everywhere offering a sizable reward for their capture.

Grinning, he admired the blonde hair and whiskers that considerably changed Toris's looks, only the piercing blue eyes proclaimed his kinship to Xena now. - While I, - he smirked again at the thought, - didn't even recognise myself in the mirror in that last inn! - He pulled a very black hair out of his chin and winced ruefully at the sharp point of pain it momentarily caused. - Not even our own mother's would recognise us now, - he chuckled to himself.

They waited for the legionaries to pass, on their way back to their barracks in Lugdunum. The area still had problems with Gaulish raiders, so strong patrols were maintained to ensure the safety of the outer lying Roman dwellings in an area being rapidly populated by colonists. Once the soldiers were safely down the road, the pair urged their mounts forward once more, where they could get a clear view of the road to the south.

"How long do you think before they get here?" asked Toris, curbing his impatience with effort.

Iolaus scratched at his beard again as he considered, "Hard to say," he answered non-committally, "Well before dusk, I should think. That last camp the legion made wasn't too many leagues back there. We've got time to find ourselves a decent inn that overlooks the Prefecture. You never know, we might get lucky and get a glimpse of her."

Toris looked moodily down the road. So far they hadn't been able to accomplish anything of use. As Autolycus had warned, the pair of them had been recognised as soon as they switched back into their own clothes. He grimaced about the close run problem at Orange, a small city a days march north of Evignan. They'd thought they'd managed to slip into the city without any notice. They'd got ahead of the VIIth Legion, much as they had today, and had stopped in a tavern to get a bite to eat, and hopefully watch the wagon go by and, maybe, catch that elusive glimpse of his sister.

It had been Iolaus's sharp elbow digging into his ribs that alerted him to the odd way that the tavern keeper was acting. The man had flipped his hand at a young floor sweeper, who scuttled away on an errand, before the florid, sweating, man came over to their table to take their order.

"Ah, no thanks," Toris had replied to the host's offer to get them something, "we've changed our minds." He stood up, following his blonde companion's lead and tried to brush past the man in his way.

The tavern keeper had put his hand against Toris's chest and said, "But sir, you've only just arrived, and we serve some of the best wine in all of Narbonensis."

Seeing that the man was not going to let him pass peacefully, and recognising Iolaus's worried impatience, Toris tried a trick of his sisters. He allowed his ice-blue eyes to harden and directed a chilling stare at the tavern keeper. The man had gone a little white around the gills and swallowed hard as he stepped back sharply, - Good one, Xena! - thought Toris as he strode purposefully past. He doubted that he'd be able to intimidate a warrior that way, unlike his 'oh so scary' sister, but it had worked well enough there.

"C'mon Toris," the compact blonde had encouraged, heading for the door with a purposeful stride, "Let's get out of here before we hit tr...."

He never finished the sentence, because eight members of the town watch bulled through the tavern door at that moment, their officer shouting, "That's them! Get them!"

Whatever else he had done in his life, tavern brawling was not a skill he had practised enough to be able to call himself proficient at it .. even if he had been brought up in one! Iolaus on the other hand, seemed to be quite comfortable in such situations. Grabbing a bench, the small man had hoisted it and then charged into the soldiers of the watch, before they were able to spread out too much.

Following his friend's lead, Toris hefted a small table and used it to shove the forces of law and order from the side, managing to use it as battering ram and shield both. Several bodies went down in a tangled pile, including Iolaus. But Toris dumped the table on top of the bulk of the heaving mass, before hauling the smaller man out, by his feet, from under a chaos of arms and legs.

With boyish grins at each other for the turmoil they had wrought, the pair, made a dash for the tavern door and their horses, "Ares' left hairy nut!" swore Iolaus as he swung his gaze up and down the street. Legionaries were coming at double time from each direction and converging on them.

They'd scrambled for their horses and darted for the only street providing a clear exit for them. Pushing the horses from a standing start to full gallop, they had raced the running soldiers for the narrow passageway that offered their only chance for escape.

It was a close run thing, but they made the alleyway before the Roman's did, and they'd set the horses for the fastest way out of the city, only to find the gates being closed when they reached them. Iolaus had given a wild whoop to distract the soldiers, then they'd driven their horses towards the narrowing gap as the heavy wooden portals were being slowly pushed shut and, by the skin of their teeth, and the grace of Zeus, they'd just managed to slip through and out into the open countryside. That had been about fourteen days previously. Since that close shave, they had decided to dye their hair and cultivate beards. It had worked and they were now able to pass among the Romans without being challenged or attacked, but they still maintained their cautious approach.

As Iolaus explained to Xena's brother, "If we're cautious and get in to trouble, at least we know we've done everything we can to avoid it. If we're careless, then it's too late to start worrying about caution when we're thrown into Caesar's dungeon."

Impatient though he was, Toris had seen the sense of the argument and had followed the smaller man's lead. In the time they had been together, he had developed a respect for Iolaus and found him to be both good company and sensible ... that is sensible over everything except women.

It had been a wet miserable day when they'd taken shelter in a tumbled down barn from an afternoon storm, somewhere on the long haul between Orange and Valence. They'd brought the horses in and had taken the chance to munch on some jerked meat. "Pity we can't cook some soup or something warm," grumbled Iolaus.

"Can you cook?" asked Toris, more for something to say than any real interest.

Iolaus waggled his hand from side to side and answered, "About enough to get by on. I've never poisoned anyone ... unlike your sister."

Toris had grinned at that, remembering some of Xena's more flamboyant disaster's in his mother's kitchen when they were children, "It's never been one of her many skills. But I never heard that she poisoned anyone with it before."

"That might have been a slight exaggeration on my part," agreed the smaller man with a grin in return, "but not by much."

They ate in silence for a while, each lost in his own thoughts as the rain fell heavily beyond the sagging door and lightning cracked throwing jagged lances around the darkening skies.

"You know," Toris said at last, just to break the silence between them, "You never told me how you and my sister met." For a long while he didn't think that Iolaus was going to answer him. The blonde had stared out into the wet afternoon and a frown had etched itself onto his brow, "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to pry."

Iolaus sighed and turned to look into the blue eyes of his companion, "Toris, you know very little about Xena. What she did, what she became, even what she is now. I suppose it's only natural that you should try and fill in some of the gaps. But you've got to remember that it's who she is now that's most important." He glanced out into the rain once again, "I think this has settled in for the night, we might as well make a camp here. We can probably risk a small fire and make something warm to drink ... then I'll tell you about how I met Xena."

They'd unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down well before giving them some of the grain they'd brought along for feed, then a search through the decrepit building had turned up enough dry wood to give them a comfortable blaze and a chance to dry off a bit.

They sat on the bedrolls that they'd laid either side of the fire and, taking sips from the herbal tea they'd made, Iolaus began his story, "I first saw Xena about a league outside of my home town. Her horse had gone lame and she seemed to be wary of strangers, even a little frightened of them."

Toris choked down a laugh, "My sister?" he asked incredulously.

"She's a very good actress," his friend told him with a straight face. "Anyway, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress ... for any kind of damsel really, it's gonna get me killed one day. As it happened, this particular time, it nearly got me and Hercules killed."

"She tried to kill you and Hercules?" Toris almost squeaked as his voice moved up another octave.

"Yeah," came the nervous answer, "not straight away, but that's what she had planned."

"So what happened?" came the demand.

"Well, she got me to fall in love with her, really fall deep for her, you know?" he saw Toris give a small nod, "She is such a beautiful woman and believe me Toris she has more in her arsenal than a sword and a chakram. I'd have done almost anything she'd asked of me." He winced at the painful memory.

"She asked you to kill Hercules?" his companion asked.

"No," Iolaus told him quietly, "her plan was far more devious than that," he sat quietly for so long that Toris almost thought he wouldn't tell the rest of the tale. Finally, with a long sigh, however, he continued, "I spent an idyllic eight days with her at my home, before she told me about some Warlord terrorizing her people in Arcadia. She said she'd come to get Hercules' help, but that she'd found me."

Toris sat quietly as Iolaus picked up a stick and prodded the fire, "I agreed to go back with her and help her. I was so crazy in love with her I'd have gone anywhere with her. I told Herc that I was going with her and she turned down his offer of help, telling him that I was all she needed. Gods, but that thrilled me. Here was this incredibly beautiful woman turning down Hercules in favour of me .. I mean, Herc's my best buddy, he always has been and always will be, but sometimes living in his shadow can be a bit ... you know?"

"Yeah," agreed Toris bleakly, "I know. I have this sister, remember."

Iolaus gave him a tight lipped smile, "Yeah. Well I went with Xena and the more time I spent with her, the more I came to worship her. She became everything to me. So when Hercules turned up a few days after we reached her camp at Elyssia, telling me that Xena had sent a man to kill him, I kind of exploded and told him that I never wanted to see him again."

Toris looked grim, "Must have been tough," he said softly.

"You have no idea." A far away look settled into his eyes as he shook his head ruefully, "Anyway, Herc went and spent the night in a nearby village where he learned all about your sister and her reputation. He hadn't realised until then, that this was the Warlord Xena, Destroyer of Nations, who'd caused so much havoc over the years." A twitch of his lips highlighted the glint in the blonde's eyes as he went on, "Anyway, Herc decided that he'd be damned if he'd let Xena use me as a pawn, and he came back to Elyssia to get me. On the way, he ran into Xena and a lieutenant of hers, name of Estragon. He and Herc fought, but when Estragon surrendered to my buddy, Xena killed him with her chakram for going against her code."

Iolaus shook his head in despondency, "She came back to the camp looking like she'd gone three rounds with ol' Herc, and told me that he'd killed Estragon and attacked her, so when my buddy, my best friend, came striding back to Elyssia I tried my damnedest to kill him."

"But you didn't, did you? and he didn't kill you either, or you wouldn't be here now," pointed out Toris softly.

"No," agreed the blonde, "Xena's plan was for Hercules to kill me and when he broke down over what he had done, she intended to kill him. Trouble was, I couldn't kill my best friend, and Herc doesn't kill anyone unless he has to. I suddenly wised up and saw through her plan and teamed up with Herc to try and whip her and her men, but she got away."

Chapter Twenty Seven: Gauls and Games
Verchinex glared at the messenger with an angry gleam in his eyes. Not only was the man a Roman, but he came from the hated Caesar. - If it wasn't for the fact that he had come under the white shield of truce .... - He let the thought slide. The man was here to present a message from Caesar and the truce signs would be honoured.

The long wooden hall was silent as Gaul and Roman looked at each other. Verchinex sat on a carved oak wood throne with no arms and a low back. The walls of the hall were hung with the skins of bear and wolf. A fire pit blazed in the centre of the floor, for all that it was mid-summer. Warriors lined the walls in leather armour, spears held in readiness to their chieftains command. One or two had faces painted blue with woad, yet others had used a solution of lime to stiffen long hair into frightening aspects.

- Savages! - Tirem spat with mental contempt for the Gaulish warriors.

The Gaul held his hand out for the message scroll that the soldier bore. It carried the Imperial seal of Rome. With a wry grin he ran a jagged fingernail along the seam of the seal and broke it with a stiff 'crack!'. The message was written in Latin and was meaningless to him, but he had a man in his tribe who could read it for him. Turning his disconcertingly light eyes back to the messenger, he told him, "Malvin will take you for some refreshment while I decide upon my answer to this," he held the scroll out contemptuously.

The Roman dipped his head in acknowledgement, hiding a wry smile at guessing that the Gaulish leader could not read Latin, and followed the tall Gaulish warrior from the council chamber of Verchinex. The bronze skinned, black haired Gaulish chieftain waited until the Roman had left the room, before motioning over one of his other guards and instructing, "Lachlan, fetch Folko to me. I have a task for him," he watched as the warrior turned to saunter from the hall, "And hurry, I would see him before the sun sets!" he roared, knowing full well that the sun had barely passed it's midday height.

Lachlan, however, speeded his step to a run and disappeared with commendable swiftness, knowing that his chief's temper became uncertain, at best, when mention of the Roman, Caesar, was made. Verchinex fought off a small smile that threatened as he mumbled, "Puppy," to himself.

"You should not tease your brother so," admonished a beautiful, fair haired woman, who wound her arms around his swarthy neck and gave his bearded cheek a gentle kiss. She had come in through the door of the anti-chamber in time to see the young man depart.

"Should I not," grumbled Verchinex as he pulled the woman from behind him to sit on his lap. He gazed with loving fondness into her blue eyes before kissing her thoroughly. Since he had been back from Rome, he could not stand to be away from her too long, - My Mendala, my wife! - he thought to himself, lovingly possessive.

"No you shouldn't, Verchinex, he is no different from any of your other warriors," she told him, "He idolizes you, my love" she told him with a soft smile, "as I do, and most of the Gaulish people for that matter."

"Hrrmpphh!" choked her husband, uncomfortable with that particular thought, "Lachlan, needs to be reminded that I'm his chief as well as his brother. He's too ready to let things slip because he thinks that I will protect him."

Mendala looked at him with that gentle smile he adored, "Just try not to be too hard on him," she told him, "for my sake, if not his. He did much to help me while you were gone from here, my love."

That brought a scowl to Verchinex's dark features as he waved the scroll at his wife. She stood up, took it from him and looked at the freshly broken seal, "From Caesar?" she asked, her fair brow creasing as she recognised the imprint in the wax.

"Aye," grumbled her husband, "I've sent Lachlan after Folko so I can find out what the serpent wants. Truthfully, Mendala, I'd rather deal with a viper, but with the build up of Legions along the borders I cannot ignore the chance of a peaceful settlement if possible."

"Can you trust Caesar?" she asked him carefully.

Verchinex considered carefully before answering. Putting aside his personal animosity for the man and trying to look at it dispassionately, he answered, "Of himself ... no. I wouldn't trust the man's word that the sky was blue." He held up his hand commanding her silence as he continued, "But if he has a proposal in the name of Rome ..." he glared at the Imperial seal on the scroll, "then I think he would honour such an agreement."

Mendala bit her lower lip as she fingered the scroll in her hands, "What is he proposing?" she asked. v "Can't say love," he grinned at her wolfishly, "until my sluggard brother gets back with Folko."

She scowled at him, a retort forming on her lips as the hall doors opened to admit the red faced Lachlan and the stout merchant Folko, who was gasping for breath due to the speed urged on him by his chief's brother, "About time you two got here," growled their unimpressed leader.

"I came as soon as Lachlan found me," Folko told him placatingly, puffing somewhat, "What do you have that needs my attention so?" he asked.

Mendala handed him the scroll and the merchant opened it, running his eyes over the Latin script as he allowed his breathing to return to normal. Knowing his chief, he raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "Do you want the full thing or the edited version?"

"Just tell me what it says, Folko, for Grannos's sake," returned Verchinex inciting the name of the sun god.

The merchant carefully read through the Latin hyperbole and began, "Ah, basically Caesar is inviting you to a meeting to discuss the situation in Gaul. He says he'd rather find a peaceful solution, than have to muster the Legions and impose a forceful one."

"Ha!" barked Lachlan snapping his fingers in derision, "That for the Roman," he declared. v "Quiet, Lachlan," ordered his brother impatiently as his brain absorbed the information in the missive. "Does he suggest a meeting place?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Aye, he does that, Verchinex, and a canny spot it is too. He suggests that as neither party is going to be very trusting of the other, that the meeting should take place on the border area close to the town of Vershin. He also say that he will draw back all Roman troops for a league around, if you will do the same with our Gauls, and that he'll bring an escort of just one maniple .. he says one hundred and eighty men .. just for protection against brigands." Folko told him handing the scroll back to his chief, "If he intends a trap he's making it very difficult for himself. The area around Vershin is very open and we'd see any treachery long before it could harm us."

"True," agreed the Gaulish chieftain, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "I wonder what Caesar thinks he can offer me at this meeting that will be to our mutual benefit. I trust the man not, but it would be unwise to spurn this chance in case we may bring peace to our people. For too long we have had to go hungry through the winter months because we were not able to gather the harvests."

"Should you not speak of this with Hyman, Calvert, Lyulph and some of the other chieftains," suggested Mendala. "They have a right to know of this message from Caesar."

"Aye lass, you're right," agreed her husband. "The messenger can cool his heels for a few days while I confer with the others, but I think they will follow my lead and something is telling me I should treat with Caesar, if only at arms length."

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Xena shuffled around yet another new cell. This one had three stone walls and a panel of thick metal bars that ran from stone floor to stone ceiling. A pile of clean straw at the back of the cell was the only relief from the cold rock. Beyond the bars was another guard room. A large one that was big enough to house the entire maniple. There were no other cells in this area of the garrison. This one had been constructed especially to house dangerous or valuable prisoners, - Guess that qualifies me on both counts, - she brooded sourly.

She had pretty much recovered from the injuries she had taken during the pit fights on her way here to Lugdunum. The last contest had been in Valence, one that she'd easily won, without taking much in the way of a hit in return. Which was just as well, because Blasius saw to it that she was never fully free of a bruise or two. She almost grinned as she remembered the black eye she had given him in the scramble at Orange. Still he had returned it with interest, and even Flaccus ignored his more obvious brutality since she'd managed to cut his beloved Caesar with that knife.

She could almost hear her mother scolding her as a child, when she returned home from some childish jaunt to find that some boy's mother had complained to Cyrene about the bruises her child had come home with, "Xena!" came the angry reproof as she had set foot inside the tavern, "By the God's child! When are you going to learn to control your temper!"

So many times she'd earned a spanking, been sent to her room without supper and forbidden to leave the inn until her mother gave her leave. Then the same thing would happen all over again as the bigger boys tried to push her around and found out that they couldn't handle Tor's little sister.

Eventually she got big enough and fast enough to avoid her mother's scoldings and punishments. When she knew she was going to be in trouble, she'd steal into the inn and raid the larder for supplies and then hide out in the woods, in a very hard to find cave, until her family's anxiety overrode the reason for her taking off in the first place.

She hid a wry grin for the one time it hadn't worked.

She'd been about nine or ten, and her mother had got wise to her tricks. She had been so very careful when she scouted out the tavern to find out where everyone was. Toris was hunting through the barn promising dire retribution against her for blacking his friend Tomases' eye .. on top of splitting his lip and cracking one of his ribs .. while Lyceus had sat waiting in their room for her to return.

She'd dropped in the window, given him a quick hug and told him, "Don't worry, Ly. I'm just going away for a few days until Mother cools off a bit."

"Watcha hit him for?" asked her younger brother as he helped her roll up a blanket and collect a fishing line.

"Doesn't matter," Xena told him, preferring not to tell her younger brother about the awful things she'd heard Tomases saying about their mother. She'd made certain that he'd be too scared to repeat them. Her mother had enough trouble trying to raise her family and run the inn without kids spreading gossip that she was of easy virtue. She winced a bit at the thought. Those hadn't been the words he'd used. She just wished she'd been able to find out who had started the lies.

"Where's Mother?" she asked, knowing that she needed to gather some food from the larder. She wouldn't be able to live on just the fish she'd be able to catch. Besides she wanted to lie low until the hunt died down.

"I think she went over to apologise to Tomases' parents. You really did mess him up some, Xena," Lyceus told here in a quiet voice.

"Good," she growled her very blue eyes becoming as cold as ice chips, "he deserved it." She looked fondly at her little brother and smiled as she ruffled his hair, "Stay close to Mother, Ly, she's gonna need you."

"But I wanna come with you," her brother told her in no uncertain terms.

"You can't Lyceus. Mother will worry enough anyway, I need you to tell her that I won't be gone long. Just until things cool down. Tell her not to worry." she said seriously.

She waited until Lyceus had nodded his head, shaking his curly brown hair as he did so, before slipping out of the room and downstairs clutching her blanket and a pouch to stuff some supplies into. She had gone silently, making no noise just in case her mother was lurking, but she'd seen no one and had tiptoed into the kitchen and the larder certain that she was safe.

It was as she began to gather some bread and cheese that she'd felt her mother's presence and had turned to bolt for the door. But Cyrene had swung the door shut behind her and stood with her arms crossed and foot tapping, waiting to hear her daughter's explanation for her latest piece of bad behaviour.

Xena had just looked at her mother, stubbornness written all over her very expressive features. There was no possible way that she was going to tell her what Tomases had said, and she hated having to give excuses to her mother at anytime. So she had stood there defiantly and waited for the punishment she knew would be forthcoming.

"Xena!" her mother had yelled, "By the God's child, when are you going to learn to control your temper."

Getting no answer and no explanation had infuriated Cyrene. Her strange, willful, rebellious, difficult, daughter, so often tried her patience. She had taken a firm hold of Xena's ear and hauled her down to the root cellar and paddled her behind, before locking her in so that she couldn't just run off.

She had spent three days down in that cellar brooding and miserable while Tomases’ parents demanded far harsher retribution on Cyrene's wild child. The inn keeper had stuck up for Xena like a she bear for her cub, but things hadn't been settled until Toris had heard exactly what Tomases had been saying and had reluctantly told his Mother, ashamed of his friendship with the other boy and the punishment it had caused for his younger sister.

Cyrene had felt bitterly aggrieved, not for herself, but for her daughter whose loyalty and love had been so poorly repaid. She had descended to the cellar with a heavy heart to find her wildly unpredictable child sitting huddled in a corner brooding quietly. Sitting herself on the bottom step, she'd held her arms out to Xena, who had come to her like some half broken filly, ready to shy away at the first wrong move, but she had, eventually, revelled in her mother's protective arms, fiercely refusing to allow the tears she could feel welling up within her, to fall.

- That was, - she thought to herself, wryly, - almost the last time I allowed that kind of contact with Mother as a child. - she allowed herself a self deprecating laugh over the loss, "Oh, Mother," she muttered softly, "If only you could rescue me from my imprisonment now." She shook her head refusing to acknowledge the tears that pricked at her eyes.

She heard a sound behind her and found Blasius moving close to the bars. She watched him as he approached, noticing the chain he carried in his left hand and the baton held in the other. Another ten men armed with batons stood ready behind him. Muscles tensed. She knew it wasn't beyond him to administer a little harsh discipline and claim she had failed to obey an order. None of the soldiers would dispute his word, they were too afraid of him for that.

A quickly flicked glance told her that Flaccus was watching. It gave her a little reassurance. For all that the senior Centurion had relaxed his edicts against her being too harshly treated since Orange, he was unlikely to allow Blasius to flagrantly abuse her ... without Caesar's specific orders to do so of course! - Well, - she thought, - you've given him reason to do so. -

"C'mon you animal," growled the optio as the cell door swung open, "You're wanted."

She should have guessed. - Another fight. How many opponents this time. Four?, Five? - After her last easy victory, Caesar might well be looking to increase the opposition against her and give himself better odds for his wager.

The brief thought of making them come and get her flicked across her mind and was discarded. She'd made a promise to Gabrielle and she'd try to keep it as best she was able to do so. Her face an impassive mask, she shuffled across the cell floor to the door, where she was met by Blasius.

He stepped aside to let her past him, and she instinctively knew what he was going to do. She relaxed the muscles in her legs and allowed the blow he aimed behind her knees to be absorbed, "When you're called, slave," he growled close to her ear, "you come running."

He roughly locked the chain to the collar around her neck and gave it a hard tug, hoping to provoke some show of resistance, some defiance that he could legitimately use as an excuse to administer a beating. Xena resumed her impassive stance and waited for the inevitable shove that she knew would come.

The ten men formed tight around her and a larger contingent of twenty formed up around them. She suppressed a smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. The awe and fear she inspired in her gaolers was something to behold. No matter that they had her chained and could beat her on a whim, they were still terrified that she would slip through their grasp and lay them open to Caesar's not so tender mercies.

Walking at any pace caused her quite a bit of pain as the cuffs on the leg irons bit savagely at her flesh. Patroclese fought a never ending battle with the cuts and sores that her chains rubbed around her wrists and ankles. She wore permanent dressings that protected her skin somewhat, but not on the forced marches that Blasius insisted upon whenever he commanded her guard.

Taking notice of her surroundings was second nature to the Warrior Princess. Her mind automatically mapped the route, from her cell, in her mind. It wasn't unusual for her to be taken up from the lower dungeon levels to the main quarters of a building to get to the fighting pit, but this time, they were taking her to a far higher part of the building.

Stairs were a big problem. She had a relatively small amount of slack allowed on the leg irons, and stairways took a lot of concentration and more pain as the cuffs chaffed up and down over raw bound skin, and higher, unprotected areas. When she stumbled and slipped to her knees on about the fourth flight they'd negotiated, Blasius had jerked her upright with the chain to her collar, causing her to choke on the sudden constriction.

"What's the matter, scum?" he snarled at her, "The so called Destroyer of Nations, doesn't look so tough to me."

She looked at him. Just looked. It was one of those that touched the frozen wastes, that evoked the burning fires of Tartarus, that promised death. Just a look.

Blasius swallowed and took a step back, almost falling down the stairs, held up only by the press of men behind him. He heard a snigger and rage suffused his face. He hated to be made to look a fool. He hated anyone to see just how terrified he was of this woman. He swung the baton at her and stared with disbelief at the hand that had caught it. He tried to wrest it free from her grasp and saw the wild feral lights dance in her eyes, as she maintained her hold, pulling the weapon towards herself.

Blasius exerted all his strength to tug the baton from her grip, and heard her say grimly, "You want it?" before he had time to register her intent, she let it go saying, "You got it!"

The under officer found himself catapulted backwards by his own momentum. His hands released both the baton and the chain he held as he tried to grasp something .. anything .. to stop his wild fall. The soldiers on the crowded stairway threw themselves out of the way of his flying bulk, although a few unlucky souls got carried along by him.

The rest of the guard pressed around Xena, one man grabbing up the chain, others presenting their batons in readiness to beat her into submission. The Warrior Princess ignored them, standing calmly, not threatening any of the others. She watched stone faced as Blasius hit the floor below with a solid crash. He lay unmoving as the three men around him got carefully to their feet. There was an unnatural twist to the optio's neck that heralded his certain death.

One of the soldiers, a decurion, the one with the chain in his hand, one that Xena was sure had been the object of much of Blasius's bullying, stared down at the officer and said to his comrades, "He slipped and fell. It was no one's fault but his own." He gave Xena a sharp nod of gratitude as the muttered agreement came from all the men of the guard. None of them had liked the optio.

"Aquila," instructed the decurion who seemed to have taken charge, - Junius, - she remembered his name as being, "Go and tell the Centurion that the optio slipped and fell down a flight of steps and appears to be dead from a broken neck ... we are sure he's dead?" he shot a question to the men at the foot of the stairs, and got a nod from one of the three standing with the junior officers body. "Tell Flaccus that we're taking the slave up to the General."

Well, at least that told Xena her current destination, but it didn't explain what Caesar might want with her. She turned back to negotiate the difficult steps and found Junius looking at her, "Blasius was a pig," he told her quietly, "and sooner or later he was going to end up dead, but don't get the idea that you can pick us off one by one, because the rest of us stick together, and we're the Emperor's picked men. We'll treat you fair as long as you behave fair."

Xena gave him a quick nod. The Legionaries were happy enough to be out from under the control of a bullying officer, but that's about all the slack she could expect from them. They wouldn't go looking to beat her just for the sake of it. She suspected they had a respect for her even, but it wouldn't stop them from doing their job, "Fair enough," she told the Roman.

Junius set an easier pace, giving the Warrior Princess the time she needed to negotiate the difficult levels. The guard, however remained tight around her. No one was going to get close enough to her to break her loose, and she wasn't going to get the room to escape them.

Two guards stood to rigid attention outside of a door that had to be Caesar's. Junius knocked on the ornately carved and gilded wood and was bidden, "Enter," by a voice that Xena's being throbbed to with the familiar pulse of rage that ran rampant through her blood. She forced the emotion down. She was going to need all her wits about her for another confrontation with her enemy. She needed to be focused and anger clouded her ability to do that.

Junius went inside the apartment, leaving Xena and her guard outside to await further instructions. The soldier's report took a few minutes as he explained the modified version of what had happened to the optio. Even the Warrior Princess's acute hearing couldn't hear what was said beyond the door, but if Caesar wasn't bellowing, it was likely that he accepted the decurion's story.

When the door opened once more, the ten original guards were signalled to march her into Caesar's presence. With barely a movement of her eyes, she registered the lavish furnishings, the large window, screened by a heavy ornamental grill, the four guards (two by the window and two by the door), Junius, Patroclese and of course, seated behind a wide marble desk, Caesar himself, a livid red scar forming along the line of his cheekbone, the stiches having been removed.

"Hello Xena," he greeted as if she were a close friend paying a social visit. She returned his greeting with a look of freezing malice. Unfazed he motioned her to a chair in front of him, on the opposite side of the desk.

When she didn't move, Junius prodded her lightly. It was an improvement on her normal treatment and she saw no profit in baulking. Besides, she was intrigued as to just what game Caesar was playing with her now. She walked slowly to the indicated chair, her chains dragging across the floor with a metallic rattle. Sitting down, she kept eye contact with him and waited for him to speak.

Junius remained standing behind her, his hand wrapped around the chain that was leash to her collar, - Just like a dog, - she thought bitterly. The other members of the guard fanned out to the edges of the room.

"I hear that Patroclese has been teaching you how to play chess," he smiled, watching her with a contented possessiveness, "I thought I'd like to judge your progress myself." He snapped his fingers and a servant appeared from a connected chamber with a richly decorated set of ivory and ebony, both inlaid with gold and gems.

Her eyes remained locked to his. - Do I really want to play games with this man? - She thought about chess. "A battle board", Patroclese had called it. Perhaps Caesar sought to best her here having lost to her strategy on the field of battle. Her eyes glinted at the thought. She had little doubt that Caesar had been playing the game for many years longer than she had, and no doubt counted himself a master at it. He would expect to beat her.

She nodded her head in acceptance of the challenge, and almost smiled when she thought about what Gabrielle would have said, "You're impossible," the bard's words came clearly, "Show you a challenge and you just can't resist it." Well she'd be damned if she let Caesar think she was afraid to face him on any field of battle. She'd give him a game to think about.

Chapter Twenty Eight: Bard Watch
The trip from Arelate to Massilia had been hard on the bard. Sleep was becoming impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, her dreams were invaded by the incessant darkness of her brooding thoughts, jumbled together in a hybrid scenario of all the grim things that had become a part of her life and history. When she became too exhausted to fight the need for sleep, she would awaken just a few candlemarks later, screaming and shaking from the nightmare visions that insinuated themselves into her mind.

By the third night, in the small camp that the guard maniple had erected for their nightly stop, even Brutus was becoming disturbed about his charge's health and mental well being. He had been informed that the bard was struggling to keep up on the march, when he knew, full well, that the girl was more than able to keep to a hard pace. She had proven it in her travels with the Warrior Princess.

"What's amiss with her?" he asked the Senior Centurion, Paullus.

"The men have been reporting that she doesn't sleep, sir," answered Paullus, a man who looked younger than his almost forty summers, "And that when she does, she wakes up screaming. It's obvious that she's having nightmares and none of the men know what to do for her. She's stopped eating now and she seems to be shaking all the time."

"Juno good and great," swore his commander, "If we lose her, Caesar will have us all crucified, starting with me and ending up with the lowliest legionary. It's a damn pity that we haven't got Caesar's healer, Patroclese, with us. He'd be able to mix something up to make the girl sleep."

Paullus looked thoughtful, "Perhaps one of the medical orderlies has something, sir. It might be worthwhile asking. Meronius has a way with herbs, he might be able to suggest a remedy," he said after a moment's thought.

Brutus nodded his head. "Get your Meronius to take a look at her. We have to do something before she becomes really ill."

**********

Gabrielle sat listlessly in her tent, eyes darkly shadowed, muscles shaking from fatigue and the knowledge that if she should sleep the shades from her past experiences would be there to torment her. Her bowl of stew sat untouched by her side, ignored as she retreated into the grey misery that her life had become.

Meronius was a big man. He stood over six feet in height and had a muscular build that totally belied his gentleness as he examined the bard. She sat unresisting in a foggy daze as he checked her over. He noted that her eyes had lost whatever keenness they had possessed, her gaze was distant and withdrawn. Her hair had lost it's luster and spasms shook her body. The medic looked up as the senior Centurion entered through the canvas doorway, followed by the Tribune, Brutus. Meronius stood and moved to where the two men waited. and answered the unspoken question, "Sir, she's suffering from fatigue and a morbid depression."

"We'd worked that out for ourselves," snapped Brutus in annoyance, "Have you a remedy, man?"

"There is a sleep potion that may work. We use it on seriously injured men, who are going to die, just to ease their last few candlemarks. It should put her into a deep dreamless sleep and help her to recover," informed the medic.

"Why do I know that there's going to be a problem with this," muttered Brutus in frustration as he noted the man's edginess.

Meronius shuffled his feet and said, "Sir I have no idea how long the patient will be unconscious with this drug. As I said it is normally only used on the dying men. Whatever I give her could knock her unconscious for a few candlemarks, or even a few days."

Brutus looked at the bard. She sat on a blanket, close to the stake that held her chained by a leg iron. The woman was important to Caesar, and in honesty, he'd hate to try and control that hellcat, Xena, without the girl to use as a threat against her behaviour. With that in mind, there was no way that he could allow this 'illness' to develop, "Make sure she takes some of your draft. If it keeps her unconscious for a time, that's no real problem. At least we'll know that she won't be able to slip through our fingers."

"As you say sir," agreed the medic.

"Oh, Meronius," Brutus suddenly had a thought as he moved towards the tent's flap, "I want you to stay with her from now on. She's your concern. I want you to make certain that she eats and sleeps and regains her fitness."

Meronius snapped into rigid attention executed a perfect salute and replied, "Sir!" in proper military fashion.

As his superiors left, he turned back to his charge and deftly mixed up a sleeping draft in a cup of water. He held the cup to Gabrielle's lips and encouraged her to swallow the liquid. The bard complied with a lack of interest that brought a sympathetic quirk to the medics lips. He wondered just what made this one young slave so important that it had the Tribune worrying after her health.

He fingered the collar and read the inscription, "So you belong to Caesar, child." he mused as he picked up the bowl of stew and encouraged the apathetic girl to eat, "I thought he liked his women close to his hand ... and more experienced," continued Meronius softly, as he remembered the stories told of Caesar's prowess with the women. It was a source of ribald pride amongst his men.

When Gabrielle had finished eating, her eyes began to drift shut. The big medic helped her to lay down, and gently tucked a blanket around her, pleased to see the look of peace on her face and the relaxation of her tightly strung, muscular body, "Sleep child," he said, seeing an image of his own daughter laid over the girls features. He hadn't seen Damita for five long years, but she'd had the golden, red, blonde tresses that this girl wore, although her eyes were brown and not the blue green of the bard's.

He felt an obscure and totally unreasoned desire to protect this girl, and he would do his best to make sure she came through whatever was bothering her. It was part of what made Gabrielle so special. Her natural goodness shone through and made those around her protective of her well being ... except, of course, for those deadly enemies of hers, such as Callisto, Valesca, Caesar, Ares and several other warlords and bad men of lesser note.

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Autolycus shifted uncomfortably and wished, yet again, that Joxer had found a more painless spot from which to observe the legionaries camp. He stifled an exclamation as a particularly vicious bramble clung tenaciously to his leg. He threw a mortified look at his companion, "You chose this place particularly to get me back for the dress, didn't you?"

Joxer, who was now attired in the black leather trousers and tunic that he'd purchased just before his reunion with his brother Jet, looked at the thief with blank incomprehension and said, "Of course not." He plucked a blackberry from the brier and offered it to Autolycus, smiling hugely and saying, "Want some. They make a good breakfast. And it's not my fault that your cloths are cloth and mine are leather, now is it?"

Autolycus took the fruit and glared at his 'warrior' companion, "You sneaky little Cretin of Chaos, you. You did chose this on purpose."

Joxer's grin widened as he popped another berry into his own mouth, "Paybacks are a bitch," he exulted, rolling away when the thief looked like he was going to settle a score of his own. "Hey! C'mon. Ya gotta admit that this is the best spot to watch those Roman goons from."

Autolycus settled down muttering dire imprecations that Joxer failed to catch the meaning of. But he did hear the thief grumble, "I bet Iolaus hasn't got this problem with Toris."

Turning his attention down the sharp hill, the King of Thieves watched as the Roman maniple began to strike camp. His eyes narrowed as he saw a litter being taken towards the only tent still standing and he began to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped that it was the blackberries, but he had an idea that it was being caused by something far worse. A sudden spasm of fear.

"Perhaps someone's ill?" suggested Joxer naively.

Autolycus looked at him as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, "Do you know where Gabrielle is?" he asked pointedly.

"No, where?" asked his companion in return scanning the area looking for the familiar red blonde hair that would pin point her location.

Autolycus grabbed him by the nose and twisted hard to vent his frustration and anxiety, "She's in that tent. The tent where they just took that litter. Do I need to draw you a picture or do you understand what that means?" he demanded, yanking the nose hard as he let go.

"Owww!" moaned Joxer clutching at his tormented snout, "That hurt," he whined, before suddenly realizing what Autolycus had been trying to explain to him. "Hey!" he almost shouted, trying to scramble to his knees.

"Cut that out," hissed the thief, as he pulled his companion down next to him. Do you want to tell them where we are?" A spear sliced through the bramble cover and pierced the ground between them. Autolycus swallowed, his eyes rivetted to the spear head as he said, "This is not good."

A rough voice ordered, "Come out of there ... slowly. You make any funny moves and we'll turn that bush into a pin cushion."

The thief scowled at Joxer, "Hey Autolycus," he grumbled as he edged out of the bush, carefully, "I've found a great place to keep watch ... amateurs! Ha!"

"Hmmmm!" grinned Joxer apologetically embarrassed, "Sorry."

When both men had extricated themselves from the brier, they found themselves surrounded by a decurion and a ten man patrol unit .. all with weapons drawn, four of them holding bows. "Put your hands on top of your heads," the officer instructed.

"Would you believe it if I told you we were just hunting up breakfast?" asked the thief hopefully.

"Not a chance," the decurion confirmed cheerfully.

"Thought not," groused the King of Thieves unhappily.

"Search them," ordered the officer.

With Autolycus shooting black glares at his companion, the pair complied, while they were roughly searched for weapons and anything else that might be considered contraband in these particular circumstances. The soldier searching Joxer finished quite quickly, but the man assigned to search Autolycus kept finding a variety of odd looking metallic instruments, lock picks, grappling hooks, pistol crossbows and any other number of things that would be impossible to put a name too.

When the decurion looked a question at him, the thief shrugged and answered, "Just the tools of my trade, I'm a scrap merchant."

A grin split the grizzled Roman's face, "Don't bother son," he told Autolycus. "We know who you are, now tell us where your other two mates have got to."

Autolycus looked at him with incomprehension, "Sorry, don't know who you mean."

"He means Iolaus and Tor ... Owwwww!" yelled Joxer hopping up and down on one foot, from the pain of Autolycus's boot coming down heavily on his toes, "Whatdidyadothatfor," he demanded in a garbled rush.

Autolycus shook his head ruefully, "You'll have to make allowances for my ... friend," he said with heavy sarcasm, "He tends to open his mouth at the most inappropriate times." He shot another glare at Joxer who got the message.

The decurion shook his head at them. "Never mind. We'll see what the tribune has to say about you both." He signalled his men, who formed up around the two captives, "Move out," he ordered, leading the way back down the hill to the camp.

Joxer and Autolycus, both still with their hands on their heads, followed along, shoved every now and then by the legionaries around them, to make sure that they kept up with the pace. Autolycus muttered imprecations under his breath, while Joxer did his best to avoid his companion's glare.

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The decurion reported to his optio, who reported to Paullus, the senior Centurion, who reported to Brutus ... who smiled, "You've got two of them. Which two? Bring them over so I can have a look at them."

Paullus waved at the decurion who escorted his find to the Tribune and gave his commander a precise military salute, "Sir," he announced, "we found these two skulking on the hill, up there," he pointed to the relevant place.

"I do not skulk," muttered Autolycus insulted, "I spy out the lay of the land."

"I don't think 'spy' is such a good word to use either," whispered back Joxer through the side of his mouth.

Autolycus, smiled at Brutus and lowered his hands, "Ah, there seems to be a misunderstanding here," he explained, "All my ... friend and I were doing was getting some breakfast. That blackberry bush up there has quite delicious fruits, you know." He smiled ingratiatingly.

"This would be the thief, then," said Brutus, looking Autolycus over with consideration tinged with respect. His glance flicked to Joxer who stood straight trying to look nonchalant, "and this would be the fool."

"Hey!" he protested but was abruptly silent when the but end of a pila whacked him across his thigh, "Fool's good," he agreed.

Brutus turned his eyes on Autolycus, "Where are the others?" he asked placidly. The thief gave him a look of contempt and turned to give Joxer a warning stare, so he didn't see the Tribune's fist coming.

Seeing stars rotate slowly around his head wasn't a new experience for Autolycus. Associating with Xena and Hercules had introduced him to the vision some time ago. Seeing men tower above him as he sat prone on his fundament was also nothing new. He felt his tender jaw and moved it experimentally, before looking up at Brutus and saying, "That was uncalled for, " and couldn't resist adding, "I bet not many of your friends turn their back on you." A spear shaft "Thwacked" solidly across his back.

"What do you want done with them, Tribune?" asked Paullus.

"Shackle them," Brutus answered. "Keep a close watch on them. Especially the mouthy one. Oh, and Paullus, tell off a pair of runners to get to the closest garrison with horsemen and have them inform Lord Caesar that two of his birds are in the hand. Tell him it's the thief and the fool. He'll understand."

As the manacles and leg irons were brought out, Autolycus got to his feet and nudged Joxer, pointing with his chin as the litter was brought out of the last standing tent and they could see Gabrielle's motionless form laying on it. Without thinking, Joxer tried to rush to the bard's side, only to be dropped like a poleaxed steer as the heavy shaft of a Roman pila clipped him neatly behind the ear.

"Damn it Joxer!" swore the King of Thieves as he felt an urge to defend his companion, - This doing good stuff must be rubbing off from Xena and Gabrielle, - he thought to himself, - "Sheesh!" he hissed as he was neatly clubbed down too. - Guys, you're gonna owe me big time for this! - was his last conscious thought for some while.

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He wasn't sure how he'd got where he was. The cell looked vaguely familiar, but then he'd seen so many of them in so many different places. He rolled over and groaned feeling for the lump on his head, and recognising the clank of chains as he moved. He sat up carefully and looked around recognising the unstirring lump in the opposite corner to him as being Joxer, then noticed that their accommodation was shared by the bard that they'd been trailing as they tried to work out a way to rescue her.

- My luck can't be this good! - he thought as he scrambled on his knees to her side and looked down into her sleeping face. "Gabrielle," he whispered, shaking her shoulder, "Hey, c'mon Gabrielle, wake up. It's me, Autolycus." - Full marks for an original line, - his brain sneered at him.

"She's got a strong sleeping drug inside her," came a voice from the door. Autolycus swivelled to face the owner as it was opened to admit Meronius.

"What's the matter?" he asked sarcastically, "Aren't a hundred men enough to keep one small girl from escaping, so that you've got to drug her?"

Meronius walked to his side and checked on his patient's pulse, lifting an eyelid to see if she was any closer to regaining consciousness, "Actually," he explained, "she was given it because she had barely slept for three nights. She was having these nightmares ... and we were getting worried about her."

"So you doped her up to the eyeballs, right?" sneered the thief. "Well don't you think it's about time she woke up."

"I do, but I have no idea how much longer she'll be out. I had hoped that hearing you and your friend talk to her, might do the trick." said the medic calmly.

"Is Joxer okay," asked Autolycus, sparing a glance for his warrior wannabe companion.

"He has a thick head ..." answered Meronius.

"Never a truer word ..." muttered the King of Thieves.

"... he'll be fine." finished the medic.

A groan from Joxer bore out that comment and they heard him say, "Owww! My head feels like it's been run over by a herd of centaurs."

"You okay?" questioned Autolycus.

"I think so," admitted his friend.

"Then get over here and talk to Gabrielle. We need to try and wake her up, and I can't think of anyone more likely to succeed at doing that than you ... other than Xena of course."

"Ya think so?" asked Joxer scrambling over to their sides, a proud grin on his face.

"Oh yeah," assured the thief fervently, "your voice is enough to force the dead from their graves."

Joxer's jaw set ready for a retort, but before he could speak, a hand shot up from the pallet and grabbed his ear, "Joxer!" said a rasping, but very recognisable voice, "What in the name of Hera are you doing here?" she demanded, forcing her eyes to open, and seeing Autolycus as well. "Great guys, just great."

"We're here to rescue you Gabby," grinned Joxer as she released him. She looked pointedly at the shackles that graced both his and the thief's wrists. "Ummm, we've got a few details to work out," he admitted.

"Sheesh!" muttered Autolycus yet again. - How do I get myself into these things? -

Chapter Twenty Nine: The Games People Play
Caesar allowed his eyes to roll over the words on the scroll before him. A message from Rome detailing the relevant political events, and more importantly, an evaluation of Pompey's current ploys aimed at ousting him from power in the city. So far he had come up with nothing that Caesar's own agents hadn't been able to counter effectively.

He allowed a brief smile of contentment to ease onto his features. By the time he had finished his business with Verchinex, and got Xena back to Rome, he would have accumulated enough dinars to really cause Pompey problems. And, with the Warrior Princess to fight in the private pits of the city, and maybe even some of the big prize gladiatorial combats in the Coliseum, he would have plenty of money for the foreseeable future.

- Oh, Xena, my pet, - he thought possessively, - What a true treasure you are. Far better than just a wagon load of gold! You replenish my stocks like a bottomless purse. -

He put the scroll down and lent his elbows on the desk, lowering his chin onto his loosely clenched fists as he allowed his mind to play over his plans once more. He tested every crack, every crevice, for danger and the chance that something could go wrong, and formulated back up plans to take care of the unexpected. A good general always had a fall back position ... just in case!

A knock on the door announced the entry of a guard who responded to Caesar's raised eyebrow with, "Messenger back from the barbarians, sir."

Caesar sat back in his chair and replied, "Send him in, Crato." He tried to make it a point to know as many of the men's name under his command as possible, especially those in the elite maniple and those of his personal guard.

The dusty, travel stained messenger hurried through the door to where his general awaited him. He executed a salute and stood waiting for leave to speak to his commanding officer, "Well?" demanded Caesar, wanting to compel the soldier to produce a reply, "Did they send an answer Tirem?"

"Yes sir, but not a written one," answered the man promptly.

"Well then out with it man. What did the Gaul say?" demanded the Roman noble imperiously.

"Sir, the barbarian, Verchinex, says he agrees to the meeting and your terms. He says he'll be there in seven days time, but that if you play false he'll drive you and every ..." Tirem stopped, contriving to look embarrassed and a little unsure of himself, which took some doing for a veteran courier.

"Just complete the message, Tirem. I'm sure you'd appreciate some rest and there's nothing that the Gaul can say that hasn't been said before by at least one other person." Caesar assured him.

The courier completed the message and was grateful for the hand that flicked his dismissal. The look on the general's face, when he'd told him exactly what the barbarian planned to do to his commander and the legions, had been grim enough to make him wish the floor would open up and swallow him. As he closed the door behind him, the sentries on duty saw him shake his head and wander off down the corridor muttering, "I didn't know it was even possible to do that to another man."

The guards looked across at each other and shrugged their shoulders. If someone had sent a message to upset the commander then they'd soon know about it. They stood and waited to see what would develop.

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Xena sat quietly in her cell, replaying the moves of that last chess match through her active mind, seeking out the weaknesses in her defence and the problems with her attack. Since that first game, that had ended with a draw, she and Caesar had played several more and the tally now stood at two wins to Xena, four wins to Caesar and three draws.

It galled her to lose to him, but no more than it did for him to lose to her, especially as she was so new to the game, and he was considered to be something of an expert. Xena had little doubt that she would eventually even the score with him, but she also began to recognise that in this game, much like in life, he was her match. Not in any physical sense. In a straight out fight she'd cut him into little pieces, although he might provide a little sport in doing so. And definitely not in a partnership sense! She may have loved him once, but that had long since been ground into the dust and the seeds that had sprung from that love had been rage and hatred. No they were matched adversaries. As commanders, strategists and tacticians they were a pair. Each counterbalanced the other to perfection. Which is why the bloodless battleground of the chess board was proving to be an attraction neither of them could resist.

She lowered her head towards her captive hands as the straw she was laying on began to irritate her nose. She scratched the offending area and pushed the unhappy memories of Chin, that the action conjured, firmly into the deep pits of her mind, preferring to think of happier moments with her bardic friend ....

Like the time, at some inn somewhere, when Gabrielle had been deeply involved in the telling of a story ... about one of their minor adventures, Xena seemed to remember. The bard was perched on a stool on a table, and had become very animated in her description of the Warrior Princess's battle with a rogue centaur which had the crowd spellbound ....

Unfortunately, during the action bard, stool and table had parted company, and Gabrielle had landed in a heap on the floor with a very red face and a very sore rear end. She had gamely finished the tale but, the following morning she had refused Xena's offer of a ride on Argo with heated vehemence and had become quite belligerent about the whole thing when she caught the Warrior Princess with a half smile on her face.

"Quit that," the bard had snarled, not feeling in the mood to be the 'butt' of anyone's amusement and cultivating an angry attitude to hide her embarrassment over the incident and her sore backside. It all just seemed to bring the worst out in Xena. Well, not really the worst, more like the playful, which seemed like the worst to the bard at the time.

"Make me," grinned Xena feeling, just for once, light hearted enough to play.

Gabrielle had stood in the middle of the road, frustration plain on her face, as she tried to work out someway of getting her own back, without suffering yet worse indignities.

"One of these days, Xena, I'm gonna do just that!" shouted the blonde stamping her foot angrily.

A look had edged it's way into the Warrior Princess's eyes as she cocked her head to listen for something. Then she swung a leg over the horse's head and slipped lightly down onto the dusty road. A wicked smile had played across her lips as she hooked her chakram and sword onto Argo's saddle, shrugged out of her armour and hung that there as well.

"Ah! Xena," began the bard, recognising the glint, and bringing up her staff protectively, "what have you got in mind?" she asked, swinging her weapon in defensive arcs as her friend had advanced on her.

"Oh, I just though that you might need something to help cool you off," came the reply, with that wickedly playful grin and the devilishly flickering eyes.

Gabrielle had looked around wildly, guessing that there was water close somewhere, and that she was destined for it. She saw none, but in that brief second she had taken to look, Xena had by-passed the staff's menace by the simple expedient of a forward flip over the bard. She had then resorted to brute force, by scooping Gabrielle up off the ground in her strong muscular arms.

"Xena! Put me down!" yelled the blonde, wriggling wildly.

The Warrior Princess grinned impudently at her and had started a mad, haring run, through the woods, until she reached a spot where she had launched both of them off a high bank, into a deep pool below.

Gabrielle had come to the surface spluttering over the indignity of it all, looking to see where Xena had got too. When after some time, the dark warrior hadn't surfaced, the bard began to get frantic and started to dive down to look for her lost companion. After about the sixth such attempt at search and rescue, the blonde had heard a cool clear laugh from the shore, where she spotted Xena sitting by a fire, already drying out, while she was gutting and preparing two large fish, ready for lunch.

- My bard's rage was a wonder to behold, - grinned Xena to herself as she had remembered the rest of the day, which they had spent by the pool doing domestic chores, such as making some long needed repairs to her armour, while Gabrielle, once she had calmed down, took the chance to write out another story. It had been an idyllic, peaceful interlude in their normally hectic and deadly dangerous lives.

The smile slipped and faded as she returned to her present and remembered just exactly where she was, and where Gabrielle could be. She shook her head impatiently. They'd been in Lugdunum for four days, and there hadn't even looked like being another pit fight during that time.

Since Blasius's unfortunate 'accident' she'd been treated with a fairness and respect which she hadn't really expected. Her assorted bruises had, at last, all disappeared, although the sores around her wrists and ankles were still in evidence, if better than they had been.

So if there were no fights, and no movement, they were obviously waiting for something. - The reply to a message, - her active brain suggested. - He's looking for a meeting with Verchinex. But just what are his aims? - She didn't question her part in Caesar's likely plans. She was fairly certain that she'd already worked that out.

The other thing that worried her was her four would-be rescuers. There had been a real ruction in the guardroom when one of the men on a pass had failed to return at the allotted time. The garrison patrols had been turned out and the soldier found with startling rapidity. He'd been stumbled across, literally, outside the garrison walls, stone drunk.

>From what she had heard of the matter, from her guards whispers and from piecing two and two together, (they had no idea just how acute her hearing was, so she often picked up scraps of information that she was never meant to have), she knew that two men had abducted him and forced him to divulge information about their special prisoner. The very vague descriptions that the soldier had given could have been anyone. But, allowing for the fact they knew she was here, it was almost certainly two of her friends and, descriptions or not, Xena had a fair idea which of the two it was.

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Verchinex watched carefully as his warriors demonstrated their prowess in the melee put on to decide just which of them would accompany him and the other chiefs to the meeting with Caesar, "The hundred and eighty best of you will go," he had told them. "If Caesar plans any form of treachery he will not find it so easy as he might think."

Since then, the fighting had been keenly contested and he was now looking for the final thirty warriors to accompany him. Of his chieftains, he'd take just three with him, his dignity demanded no less, but he had decided to leave Calvert and Lyulph in charge of the rest of the Gaulish forces should they be needed for rescue or revenge.

His mind continued to work on the problem of just what Caesar expected from him. He knew the man well enough to know that he would never have sought the meeting if he didn't think he would be able to get Verchinex's agreement on some issue that would be of profit to the Roman. The question was, what was it? and what made Caesar think that he could get him to swallow it?

He shook his shaggy black curls in frustration, focusing his attention on the fight as it was narrowing down to a conclusion. To his surprise he saw that his brother, Lachlan, was still amongst those in with a chance for one of the sought after positions, - Mendala's right, - he thought, - I've got to stop looking at him as though he were a child. He's a man grown and shows some ability. -

Finally the battle came to a natural conclusion when only thirty men were left standing on the battleground. Verchinex was somewhat proud and surprised to see that Lachlan had made the select one hundred and eighty men. He stood and motioned for the other one hundred and fifty warriors to join the last thirty, "You men have won a place in the guard that will accompany me to this meeting with Caesar. It will fall on you to ensure that Caesar does not live to leave Vershin if he meets us with treachery. May the glory of the gods be with you all."

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- At least the rain has stopped ... finally! - thought Toris as he miserably picked at the bread and cheese they had managed to buy for lunch.

The two men sat huddled in yet another barn, on a farm just outside of Lugdunum. The city had got just too hot to hold them, with strong patrols out, searching for strangers and whisking off anyone they didn't like the look of. The pair had managed to avoid any real trouble, but they'd decided that they were better off waiting beyond the city walls until they could work out just what in Hades they were going to do next.

They had talked out just about every possible plan they could think of for getting inside the garrison, getting through a hundred and eighty or more trained, veteran, soldiers, getting Xena out of her cell and shackles and then getting out of the place with their skins in one piece.

- It is, - Toris had finally conceded, - plain impossible! Unless we get ourselves captured and taken into the fortress, but then we'd be in just as big a fix as Xena is. - He thought glumly.

"I wonder how Autolycus and Joxer are getting on?" said Iolaus, looking for something to break the silence.

"They can't be any worse off than we are," chipped in Toris.

"Don't you be too sure. I think those two could find trouble even in the Elysian Fields." smiled the smaller man, who Toris was rapidly beginning to regard as a good friend.

"Like someone else I could mention," grinned the taller man as he thought about his sister.

Iolaus looked at the man who was so like Xena, yet so different in many important ways. He had the blazing anger, but it was usually unfocused and quickly forgotten. He showed glimpses of Xena's fighting skills, but would never be the warrior his sister was. He shared her looks, but without the startling intensity. In many ways he was a pale shadowy imitation of the Warrior Princess. "What was she like?" asked Iolaus suddenly, "As a child I mean."

Toris thought about it for a long moment. How best could he describe his sister as a child, "Competitive," he said at last. "I'm three years older than Xena, but by the time she was walking she competed with me for everything. You know how it is, brothers never have any time for little sisters ... they just get in the way. My friends and me, we used to try and chase her and Lyceus, our younger brother he was about a year younger than Xena, away, so that we could play our games in peace, without having little brats about."

"I bet that pleased her," grinned Iolaus who could just imagine how a miniature Xena would take that kind of rejection.

Toris shook his head ruefully, "You have no idea. When I was nine, me and my friends spotted an eagles nest about three quarters of the way up a cliff near the village. We'd all tried to find a way up to the nest to get at the eggs. It was like our own test of manhood, you see. The first one amongst us who could climb to the nest and get an egg would become the group's official leader."

"Don't tell me! Xena did it first." laughed Iolaus.

"Damned right!" agreed Toris, "She was six! Just six. She left Lyceus at the bottom of the cliff, after we'd gone home, and then she climbed up there and got an egg. I tell you Iolaus, none of us had managed to get more than halfway to that nest before we'd had to give up. On the way down she slipped and would have fallen and broken her neck if she hadn't managed to grab onto some root. She got pretty banged up, though and it took her a lot longer to get down the rest of the way.

"Mother was frantic. No one knew where Xena or Lyceus was, and it was pitch black by the time they got back home. Xena had broken her ankle and Ly had to support her all the way back from the cliffs. But they came in with Xena holding that damn egg, that she'd somehow managed to keep whole, and both had broad grins on their faces."

"I'm the leader now Toris," she said to me, "you gotta do what I say now."

The blue eyes looked up at Iolaus, "Have you any idea how that made me feel, Iolaus?"

His friend shook his head, being an only child did have some compensations attached to it, even if, as a child, he'd been unaware of them. He'd often wished that he'd had little brothers and sisters to play with like the other kids.

"It was amazing that she got the chance to grow up to become who she did. There are so many times I could have cheerfully strangled her, and my friends could have happily killed her as well. The trouble was she was quicker, stronger and far more intelligent than any of us. The only person who could match her was Mother, and she only managed it until Xena was about eleven or so. Up until then Xena's life was full of escapades, childish scraps, running wild and assorted punishments for a myriad of misdemeanours."

He grinned at the thought, "She always took the punishments without a murmur ... even when she hadn't done anything to deserve them. She picked up quite a reputation in Amphipolis. She was a great one for playing practical jokes and she was very inventive with them too. It soon became pretty natural for everyone to blame Xena for everything that happened. It must have driven Mother mad, because she got a litany of complaints about her daughter every day. Mind you, it meant that I had a fairly free ride through life. Mother was so tied up in trying to sort out Xena's disruptions that my occasional misbehaviour barely got sneezed at."

"Your mother must be a strong woman," smiled Iolaus at the thought of her battling wills with the young Xena.

"Where do you think the renowned Warrior Princess gets it from?" Toris asked quirking an eyebrow in a very familiar way.

The companionable silence fell between them once again before Iolaus broke it once more, "What do you think, Toris? We're doing no good here. We can't get near her. What do you say we go back and find the others. If we can help them get Gabrielle free, we might just be able to do something to prise Xena loose."

Toris felt torn. He didn't want to abandon his sister to her enemy, but he could see no way of helping her as things stood. Maybe if they could get the bard free, and let Xena know about it, then it might make the difference. He nodded his head in agreement. It was surely better than doing nothing.

"We'll probably have to go to Rome," put in Iolaus, thinking about it, "Unless Autolycus and Joxer have managed to free her already, otherwise that's where they'll go."

"Have you ever been to Rome?" asked Toris, knowing that the small man was far more widely travelled than he was.

"Nope, but I've heard the women are beautiful." came back the answer with a smile.

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Caesar was at his desk once more when the messenger from Brutus was announced. He listened to what he had to say and dismissed him with an imperious wave of his hand.

- So, - he thought, - the loose ends are falling into place. It's a pity that one of the two wasn't the brother, but we'll snare him and the other one soon. Then, Xena, my sweet, you will be tied to me hand and foot until it's time for you to die. -

Continued - Chapters 30 to 32


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