Destiny’s Dominion

Chapter Forty: Due South
They had needed some supplies, not a lot, but they needed to replenish the dried foodstuffs that they would require on their trip south and, if they could afford it, a pair of horses so that they'd be able to make better time. Having seen a merchants premises on their previous wander around the docks of Pisse, Iolaus and Toris knew where to head for to purchase the supplies they needed. They picked up trail bread, a flat brown, hard baked kind of biscuit that would sustain them if necessary. A supply a of jerked meat was also added, again it would give them something to eat if they were unable to hunt or if there wasn't much game to be found. A bag of lentils and barley was added along with a packet of herbs for making tea as well as a few that had more medicinal value.

Iolaus grinned at the merchant, "All right friend," he began in a mild tone, "How much do you want for all of this?" he waved his hand over the goods he had selected.

"Twenty five dinars," the man replied promptly.

"What!" Iolaus almost screeched, "I'm not trying to buy your whole inventory! I'll give you five and even that's blatant robbery!"

"Times are hard friend, costs are high, but I might be able to see myself coming down to say twenty dinar." he conceded.

The short man gave his adversary a hard look. He guessed that the merchant was charging extra because he recognised them as foreigners who would be unlikely to know the local prices. Iolaus considered his options. They didn't really want to have to wander through the town looking for another merchants, it would take long enough to find a horse trader, but he would if pressed to it. He glanced at Toris who stood unobtrusively by the door keeping an eye out for any trouble, however unlikely a prospect it might seem.

He focused his attention back on the merchant and decided that he really didn't like the ferret faced weasel who was trying to bilk them and set about destroying him in a hard bargaining session that finally got them their supplies for a much healthier nine dinars. "Friend," Iolaus offered as he handed over the money, "If you try to charge all strangers those prices, I'm surprised you've managed to stay in business."

The man gave him a sour look, "Nobody forced you to buy from me," he replied sententiously with a shrug added for good measure.

Gathering up their hard fought for purchases, Iolaus divided the supplies between his and Toris's packs, before the pair headed back onto the cobble laid dock road. It was, maybe, a candlemark after noon and so both knew they had to get finished in Pisse and head out if they wanted to make any progress in locating their missing friends.

"Do you want to look for a horse trader?" questioned Toris, who would far rather ride than walk if they were given the option.

"If they charge prices similar to our merchant friend in there, there's no way that we're going to be able to afford to buy them," Iolaus replied with a shake of his curly blonde hair. "Still I suppose that there's no harm in checking the possibility out. We might get lucky."

As they wandered further into the town, they asked directions from people they passed. At first the answers they got were vague, but as they got closer to their target, instructions became much fuller and soon they were standing in the yard of a well kept establishment with a sign above the door proclaiming that Maxis Terricus's Equine Emporium could be found here.

"A name like that's got to add fifty percent to the cost of the animals," grumped Iolaus.

"Well let's just ask," prompted Toris shaking his black hair out of his eyes. Both he and Iolaus had washed the colour out of the hair, but had decided to keep the beards. Once they were out in the wilds they wouldn't have time to play with dyes and so they had rid themselves of that part of their disguise, but opted to keep the face fungus as a concession to the need to remain careful. "Besides," Toris couldn't resist adding with a smirk, "I know you just love to haggle with these guys."

Sighing with the mock air of being so misunderstood, Iolaus banged on the door and called out, "Hey, is there anyone interested in selling horses in there?"

It took a few minutes to get an answer from within, and the banging on the door attracted attention that they really didn't need.

"Iolaus," hissed Toris when he saw an obviously off duty soldier glance their way, "People are staring to look at us."

The soldier was subjecting them to some fairly close scrutiny and seemed to be deciding whether or not he should come across the street to investigate, when the door to the Equine Emporium was suddenly jerked open, revealing a painfully thin, red faced man with bright orange hair. He was hastily shrugging into his tunic and both Toris and Iolaus heard soft female giggling from somewhere inside, "Yes, what do you want?" he asked somewhat testily as he pushed his shirt tail into his trousers.

"Oh, Maxi!" called a mischievous voice from inside the office, "Try not to be too long."

Toris and Iolaus grinned at each other and watched the flaming spread of embarrassment race up Maxi's neck. The flushed man stepped outside and closed the door quickly behind himself, "Ah, please excuse ... umm, err, ... what can I do for you?" he tried again lamely.

"We're looking for a couple of mounts," as the man's face turned a deeper shade of crimson, Iolaus berated himself for a poor choice of words.

Toris checked over his shoulder to see what the soldier was doing, and sighed in relief to find that he'd gone, - Probably just wondered what was taking Maxis so long to open the door, - he assured himself.

"Come with me to the stock yards and I'll show you what we've got," the trader told them, heading out across the yard.

The friends sauntered after Maxis ready to look over his stock and see if they could afford anything he had to offer.

"What kind of animals are you boys looking for?" asked the weedy man conversationally.

"Riding animals, for the right price," answered Iolaus.

Toris let the smaller man do the talking, knowing that he was nowhere near as good as Iolaus in the negotiating stakes. He was, however, a far better judge of horseflesh than the other man, and so it was he who looked over the available animals while Iolaus engaged Maxis in conversation.

There was plenty of choice in the stables, but the most likely looking pair were a deep chested bay that had a mean look in it's eye and showed whip marks on it's flank. It had obviously been misused and likely had a foul temper because of it. It wouldn't be a suitable mount for Iolaus, but Toris knew himself to be a better than average horseman and believed he could handle the animal. Besides, with it obviously being a difficult beast, they would probably be able to get it for a much reduced price.

There was also a sorrel mare. It was an ugly looking brute but it showed evidence of having strong legs and a feel of stamina about her. She also seemed to be gentle and would serve his shorter friend quite well. People so often looked for 'pretty' animals that those with less than perfect looks, were often undervalued.

As Toris rand his hands across the Sorrel's back and down her withers, he became aware of a sudden clattering in the street. Throwing a glance at the courtyard entrance, he saw a double file of armed garrison soldiers rounding the corner and heading straight for them.

"Iolaus!" he warned the blonde man who was deep in negotiation with the horse trader, "we've got trouble."

"There he is!" snarled the leading soldier, "Get the bastard!" he yelled pointing his sword in the direction of Toris's friend and Maxis.

The tall dark man drew his sword and set himself to meet the oncoming rush, noticing, from the corner of his eye, that Iolaus had pushed the thin man away from himself, though his own sword lay with their bundled belongings. Toris decided it was going to be up to him to delay the soldiers, while the blonde found something to defend himself with.

Moving forward at a run, the big, black haired man shoulder charged the first soldier in the line, catching him unaware by coming from behind the sorrel where he'd been partially concealed, and catapulted him into a collision with the man to his left and the two men directly behind them. The ensuing chaos was satisfactory, as the four men went down in a tangle of limbs, causing havoc amongst those running along behind them.

Toris grinned as further confusion was inflicted by a hail of horseshoes being thrown with unwavering accuracy, bombarding the struggling soldiers with a deluge of iron that was both painful and distracting. He didn't have long to be amused, however, as the men at the rear of the heaped mass, began to get around the blockage, and he soon found himself confronted by three angry looking legionaries.

Having run out of horseshoes, Iolaus grabbed a pitchfork and rushed forward to cut off two more soldiers that had got around their downed comrades. With quick hands and a deft touch, he poked the stump end of the tool into his first opponents gut, before sending him tumbling into the heaped mass in the centre of the yard. The second soldier came at him with sword raised for a downward stroke, but Iolaus blocked it with a horizontal presentation of his pitchfork, only to see the metal sheer through the wood, leaving him with just a couple of sticks. With a look of disgust he tossed them aside.

Always inventive, however, the blonde dropped to the ground, braced himself with his hands and swept the other man's feet out from under him, before springing to his feet and kicking his adversary alongside the temple, rendering him unconscious, then turned to see what else needed his attention.

Toris grinned to himself. At last he was getting a chance to fight against the people who were holding his sister ... well at least their men. With relish he engaged the three men before him, parrying their blows and returning them with strong quick strikes. Working with enthusiastic determination, the dark haired man disarmed one of his attackers with a flat bladed strike across his knuckles, before risking a backhanded left fist swing to slam into his victim's jaw, sending him spinning into a corner of the yard.

He suffered for that piece of over enthusiasm, when the one of the others raked his right arm with his sword, drawing a long shallow gash that stung, and bled alarmingly, but in no way hampered him. A feral light sprung awake in his eyes as he clashed his sword, in a two handed swipe against the blade of the man who had marked him, with a shuddering 'clang' that left the soldier staggering, allowing Toris the time to plant a heavy boot in the groin of the third man, who whimpered in agony and dropped his weapon. That gave the blue eyed man the freedom to dispose of the recovering last soldier, felling him with a straight thrust through the chest.

Iolaus had kept a careful eye on Xena's brother as he faced off against three soldiers. He'd never seen the man fight before, but he'd always got the impression that he wasn't very proficient at it. Admittedly, he was basing his assumptions on what Xena had said, and he was fast coming to the opinion that her unflattering remarks had not done this older brother of her's justice. Toris was far better than merely competent .. almost as good as he was himself with the sword (and Iolaus knew that he had a well earned reputation of being very good).

- Of course, - mused the short man idly, as he ducked a sword swing aimed at removing his head from his shoulders, - he's not as good as Xena. But then again who is!? - A round side kick to the ribs folded the soldier over so that he was able to deliver a double handed chop to his neck and throw his erstwhile opponent into the heaving pile on the ground, downing two soldiers, once more, who had almost extracted themselves from the mess.

He'd seen the feral glow light up the blue eyes that were so like the man's sibling's, and felt an uncanny shiver go through him. - Toris might not be the demon with a sword that Xena is, but there's no mistaking they're of the same blood. - he concluded, - I wonder if things had been a little different .. if he'd been as good as she is .. just how the world would have fared against the both of them? - It was not a comfortable thought and he deliberately shouldered it away into some far corner of his mind to be .. maybe .. discussed with Hercules some time in the future. For now, they needed to get clear of this mess before anymore of the garrison troops arrived on the scene.

"Toris!" the blonde shouted above the noise to attract his friends attention, ramming his elbow into a soldiers ribs as the man tried to get behind him.

"Iolaus?" came the questioning response, punctuated with a wide slash that forced back the two soldiers he was currently engaging.

"Let's get out of here, now!" suggested the little man as he bobbed up and down avoiding the wild sweeps of a sword that a soldier was aiming at him.

"With you!" agreed the big, dark, man as he hacked one soldiers shoulder, getting a grazed rib in return from the second man, before he had a chance to sweep his sword around to slice through the soldier's throat.

He leapt over the bodies grabbing up their gear as he heard the officer in the melee on the ground, "Those are two of the bastards that Lord Caesar is after! Forget the horse trader and get them! There's a big reward for their capture!"

- Oh, Ares' codpiece! - Iolaus silently cursed, - they weren't even after us! Probably didn't even know we were in Italia, now we'll have the whole bloody country looking for us! - He executed a forward roll to get him out of a tight situation, and pounded after Toris who had halted impatiently just outside of the courtyard, and flung Iolaus his pack and sword, before the pair launched into a breakneck run along the cobbled streets of the city, intent on losing their pursuers and getting out into the countryside without any more mishaps.

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"Have they gone," hissed Iolaus, trying not to shiver too hard in case anyone heard the chattering of his teeth.

Toris carefully parted the reeds and peered out into the gloom of the darkling night. He listened intently trying to recognise if there was a soft buzz of words in the distance. After a long pause, he turned and whispered back, "I think so."

"Then let's get out of this ice bath before I freeze my ... assets off," returned the smaller man with feeling. "Who'd have believed that a river could be so cold in summer?"

"Mountain run off," pointed out Toris as he gestured vaguely to the east where they had seen the mountain spine lurking, before it got too dark to see anything, "Do you want to press on? The night's warm, and it'll give us a chance to dry out our clothes if we keep on the move, as well as putting some distance between us and them."

Iolaus bounced up and down, once he'd managed to struggle back onto dry land, trying to get some feeling back into his cold body, "I guess that's the best idea. We've got to head south, and they're gonna figure that out soon enough, if they haven't already."

"Agreed," acknowledged the dark haired man, "Gabrielle and the others must be between here and Rome and they're gonna be heading south as well. Xena'll turn up there eventually, and now that Caesar hasn't got Gabrielle to hold over her as a hostage, we might just be able to figure a way out of all of this."

"Sounds like a plan," grinned the small blonde, "Let's get moving before I turn into a popsicle."

Hefting their packs the two men headed south at a staggering run, that slowly smoothed out as their bodies warmed up. They made sure that they kept well clear of the road because they would make too visible a target on there, even if the going was easier. They tried to keep back just inside the woods that ran parallel to the road but about fifty feet away. The ground in between had been hacked clear to discourage bandits from setting up ambushes on the imperial highways, and left a wide swathe of clear ground making it possible to sight pursuers from some distance off.

Escape from Pisse had proven to be a close run thing, with Iolaus being scored alongside his ribs, at one point, by an arrow as they'd sprinted away from the city walls. Since then, they'd been playing cat and mouse with the search parties that were combing the area for them. They hadn't had time to stop and tend their injuries, they were, however, grateful that neither of them had managed to sustain a bad wound.

"You know," huffed Iolaus as he ran along trying to keep up with Toris's longer strides, "I'm really not used to this. It's usually Hercules and I doing the hunting, not the other way round."

"Really?" queried, the bigger man who was relaxing into his stride, grateful that there was a full moon so that they could judge their footing.

"Well, yeah," replied the blonde a little less certainly, "I'll admit that sometimes we have people coming after us, but usually we stay and fight it out. This running game feels unnatural."

"Yeah, well," returned Toris as he hurdled a fallen tree, "My sister always used to say that you should pick your fights carefully and, when in doubt, run like the harpies were on your tail!"

Iolaus chuckled imagining Xena saying that, "Sounds just like her. When did she tell you that? When you saw her during that business with Cortese last time?"

"Nah," he returned, "She used to tell the little kids in the village that when the bullies picked on them ... and then go and beat the stuffing out of the bullies for picking on the little ones. I guess she was about nine or so at the time."

The shorter blonde man shook his head in mock disbelief, "Was she precocious, or what?"

"Mother said we were all a little that way, it was just that Xena used to stand out from everyone else, so nobody noticed it so much with Lyceus and me." he explained as they thudded along the tree fringe, keeping to cover as much as possible.

"Used to stand out!? Toris, you could put your sister down into a room of a hundred women and she'd still stand out like a ruby in a pile of glass," Iolaus informed him.

"Nice image," grinned Toris. "You need to stop and walk for a bit?" he asked as he stretched out a hand to stop the shorter man from falling after he stumbled over a root.

"Sure .. it'll be good to get a breather," admitted Iolaus. "Besides, we'll keep going longer that way if we don't tire ourselves out by over-doing the running."

They proceeded in that way for most of the night. First they'd run some and then they'd walk, always keeping moving, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the search as they possibly could. They were very lucky not to turn or break an ankle, a possibility that was very much in their minds, but they were driven by necessity.

When the glow of false dawn began to show itself, Iolaus declared that it was time for them to find some place to hide up for the day. They struck deeper into the wooded margin seeking some secluded dell or maybe a cave in which they could rest and sleep. Following a dried creek bed, they finally found their way into a small, narrow valley, between two steep sided hills. At the back of the valley was a rocky depression which they were able to screen with bushes and so hide their presence.

As exhausted as they were, the pair took the time to tend, stich and bandage each other's wounds .. grateful for the small medical pouch that they had in their packs .. finally collapsing with fatigue onto their welcoming, though damp, blankets and feasting on journey bread and jerked meat, before wrapping the bedding around themselves and drifting off to sleep.

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When Brutus was informed that Toris and Iolaus had both been recognised in the vicinity of Pisse, he wasn't sure whether to curse or praise the gods. The fact that the two men had escaped, seemingly without a trace, from the soldiers of the garrison there, made his blood boil. If he had been able to get his hands on those two, his loss of the bard and the other pair might not have been so bad. Having the warrior witch's only brother as a hostage would work almost as well as having her best friend. Xena's emotional attachments were her fatal flaw, and, as Caesar had so often told him, "Divide a woman's emotions from her sensibilities and you have her!"

Well it wasn't worth crying over something he'd had no control of. The two men had escaped, but they were heading south into the heavy cordon that he'd already established to catch his escapees. With just a minimal amount of luck, all five of the pigeons would fall into his hand so that he could present them to Caesar as a personal gift.

"Make sure that all the watches and patrols stay alert!" he ordered his aide who had waited patiently for orders after the messenger had been dismissed, "I don't expect any of them to have reached this area yet, but I don't want any slackness. Let the men know that one man in five will receive twenty lashes, should our quarry slip past them, and that I'll give the men who take them a bonus of twenty gold dinars each. That should make them keen enough to find them."

"Sir," saluted the officer as he left Brutus's command tent.

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Iolaus and Toris continued travelling in the pattern that they had established on that first night. However, they became more cautious once the hunt was no longer snapping at their heels, walking rather than running in the darkness, in case of accidents that they could ill afford, and aware that they could be running straight towards a trap.

With a need to conserve their limited food store, they did chance doing a little trapping during the daylight hours to supplement their supplies. They had too cook the rabbits, that they caught in their snares, over small fires made from tinder dry wood that gave off very little or no trace, as they couldn't afford to risk any smoke being seen. Fishing was out, because neither of them could afford to risk being out in the open for any length of time.

Still, they had managed, and were making good time as they pushed southwards, away from Pisse and past the towns of Rusellae and Populonia, moving in the margins between the 'Via Aurelia Vetus', which was the coast road, and the 'Via Clodia', further inland, and both which ran directly into Rome.

The further south they went they found increasing signs of soldiers patrolling the area and Iolaus, being an old hunter, recognised the signs enough to know that they were seeking to funnel the fugitives into a trap, "They know we're heading for Rome," he told Toris, when they heard the soldiers pass by and out of earshot of the bush that they'd taken refuge in.

"We've got to find a way past the guards," returned the bigger man quietly, "Once we get into Rome, we should be able to hide ourselves amongst the crowds of people."

"It's getting into Rome that's going to be the problem," Iolaus reminded him.

"There's got to be away to get through this cordon," insisted Toris urgently.

"Shhhhh!" hissed the smaller man, drawing him down as he picked up the sound of rustling leaves.

The pair remained silent as another heavily manned patrol moved past their hiding place. They kept very still and uttered no sound until they were certain that the Romans were long past. Both men let out soft sigh's of relief.

"I think we'd better head back north and find somewhere safe to wait out the day," he glanced up at the lightening sky, "We'll have to try and work out some way of slipping by them," he explained to Toris.

The dark man gave a slight nod of his head and they very carefully withdrew. They retraced their steps back the way they had come, taking infinite care to do so quietly. Having come so far, they had no intention of falling at the last hurdle if they could help it. As they worked their way up a steep gully, they could hear the sounds of softly jingling equipment somewhere not far behind them. Toris and Iolaus swapped worried glances, and moved forward at a faster rate, praying to any god that cared to listen to keep their movements quiet enough to avoid detection.

A noise ahead of them left them in little doubt that they were in trouble. They couldn't go back, they couldn't go forward and the sides of the gully were too steep to climb without making the kind of noise that would bring the patrols at the double. In frustration they looked at each other knowing that they were caught like rats in a trap.

Both men backed up against the wall of the gully and drew their swords, prepared to sell themselves dearly if they had to. The rocky wall behind them would protect them from attacks from the rear and, depending just how many men were in that patrol, they might even be able to fight their way clear of trouble.

As they braced themselves for the coming fight, both men suddenly felt hands being clamped around their mouths from behind, and their bodies hauled back into, and beyond, the face of the gully. "Shhhhh!" ordered a familiar voice.

Chapter Forty One: A Room With A View
They reached Massilia three days after leaving Arelate. The journey was, once more, frustrating and uncomfortable for the Warrior Princess, as she was kept closely confined in the cage on the wagon. However, at least the stifling heat, that normally pervaded the interior of the vehicle, was alleviated by the canvas cover being raised at the sides to allow the air to circulate.

Bored, discontent, moody and forced to keep her temper in check, Xena shifted within the cage, trying, with difficulty, to relieve cramped muscles that had been forced to maintain one position for far too long. Sullen irascibility marked her demeanor as she rested her head back against the bars behind her. The exhaustion that had plagued her, from Caesar's last attempt to break her will, was gone, although she still bore dark smudges beneath her lustrous blue eyes, giving her a vulnerable look that really was in stark contrast to her reputation.

The black shadows were a testament to the continuing torment by the residue of her nightmares. Images burned into her memory, waiting to torture her anew, were just a shallow handspan away, ready to haunt her should she slip too far into the dream brothers' realms. She closed her eyes shuttering the flicker of horror away from her watchdogs. Torment that she couldn't stop her eyes from showing even of the least horrific of the memories that lingered in her mind. - Windows to the soul, Gabrielle calls them, - she thought as she pictured her gentle bard's face, driving away some of the shadows that clung there, allowing the memory of her friend to act as a soothing balm on her lacerated, blackened, soul.

Forcing herself to relax, she allowed the rocking motion of the wagon to lull her into a half doze until the mid-afternoon when they reached the city of Massilia. As had become routine, the VIIth Legion set up camp outside the walls of the port, while Caesar led his personal guard, and the maniple assigned to watch over Xena, into the packed narrow streets of the city.

As they passed through the imposing western gate, the warrior could hear the excited pitch in the buzz of the gathering crowds. Here was a free spectacle to entertain the lives of the city folk. News of Caesar's entry attracted flocking crowds desperate to see their conquering hero. Loud cheers erupted at the head of the column as Caesar passed by, to be replaced by jeers and boos for the unknown savage shackled and caged like a dangerous beast.

Xena idly wondered if these people could have been any more hostile, even if they had known who she was. It had been many years since she had spent time raiding in Gaul and Narbonensis, but memories for such things ran deep, and she had little doubt that her name would have brought recognition. She didn't bother opening her eyes: jeering crowds were the same the whole world over and she had seen more than her fill of them. With the close proximity of the guards, and the narrow space between the bars of the cage, she had no fear that she would be pelted with the city's refuse. - Knew that they were useful for something! - she chuckled to herself as she thought of her six watchdogs sitting in exposed positions around her.

The column, wound through the streets and the disciplined tramp of marching feet on cobbled roads brought back memories of her own armies as they paraded through captured towns and cities. The only difference was the cheering. Her progress had always been marked by silence; the silence of defeated peoples who wore masks of hatred for their conqueror. They were not memories that she cherished.

She opened her eyes as she banished the images from the past and was faced by the imposing bulk of the garrison fortress as they rolled ever closer to it. Large and stone built, it bore the stamp of thorough, functional, Roman architecture. A soft sigh escaped her, which she hid by shifting her aching legs, as she realised they were yet another step closer to Rome.

Wincing as a muscle spasmed in her calf she told herself, - Be thankful for small things! At least, tonight, I'll be able to stretch in a proper cell. - she almost laughed derisively at that thought!

At Caesar's approached, the huge main gates were swung open to admit the procession. The maniple drew up in the large courtyard and Xena watched as the massive wooden gates swung closed, effectively sealing them off from the excited city, the populace of which continued to shout out their approval of the Emperor, until it became obvious that they would see him no more that day.

Through slitted eyes the warrior watched as Caesar was greeted by a man who was obviously the garrison commander. They seemed to know each other pretty well as they stood talking together for some time, before a look and a gesture was thrown in her direction, which brought a comment from the garrison commander, a smile and a salute.

- My accommodations being arranged, - she decided, - I wonder if I'll get a room with a view? - she thought whimsically, - Oh yeah! A view of yet another guardroom, no doubt! - she chuckled softly to herself, drawing startled looks from her guards.

Titus, the Junior Centurion, was assigned the honour of escorting Xena to her latest in a long line of cells, - Perhaps I should get Gabrielle to write 'A Guide to the Prisons and Cells of Narbonensis' - she mused still in her whimsical frame of mind.

A contingent of twenty guards stood ready to surround her once she was freed from the cage and the rest of the maniple waited in the courtyard, just to make certain she wasn't tempted to try an escape. She watched with little interest as the centurion leapt lightly onto the wagon and produced the key for her small prison. Using his strong wrists to good advantage, he turned the stiff key to snap open the heavy lock and then swung the door wide.

"Out!" he commanded, and waited for her to obey. It was routine. The orders, the guard, her 'obedience' had become a routine. She closed her eyes forcing herself to subdue the stubborn pride that so wanted to assert itself, to encourage her to rebel. "I said out!" Titus repeated .. his order being reinforced by a sharp jab in her back by one of her six baton wielding guards.

Her eyes opened fully. Fastening on Titus they burned with the naked desire to resist. Another harder prod was accompanied by a gruff voice that growled, "The Centurion said move!"

She gave serious consideration to defiance. She was so tired of having to control her desires, her wants, her needs, but a face floated into her conscious thoughts and she heard the bard's voice scolding her, "Xena, you promised! Don't give them another excuse to hurt you."

- Wrong time, wrong place, - she decided drawing a shuddering breath as she quelled the rebellion and forced it back into it's box. Sighing, the Warrior Princess forced cramped muscles to co-operate as she extracted herself from the cage. Once she began to move, she saw Titus stoop to retrieve the collar chain that had been left on the wagon bed floor when she'd been locked in that morning. She stood waiting, forcing herself to a semblance of docility as it was fastened to the band around her neck, and then shuffled forward at it's pull, dropping from the back of the wagon in a clatter of chains.

The centurion moved forward, drawing her after him, and the guard detail took up position around them. She had expected to be led towards the door that she had marked as the entrance to the dungeons, but instead found herself heading towards the west tower of the garrison. She hid her surprise at this change in procedure; not that it was difficult to hide her thoughts. Taciturn by nature, since she had been Caesar's captive she went days without speaking to anyone unless spoken to first.

She concentrated on keeping her balance and keeping pace with the soldiers, silently cursing the fact that they'd changed her leg irons back to a pair with shorter links since she had been travelling in the cage once more. - At least they let me keep my boots! - Stairs again became a problem for her, and there were a lot of them to negotiate. However, she was given the time she needed to make the climb safely to the top of the five storey tower, where she was taken to one of four rooms that occupied that floor.

A heavy iron door was swung open revealing a small room with two, narrow, arrow slit windows, a simple pallet bed supporting a mattress stuffed with straw and a single blanket. The pallet was close to one of the windows. Two torches lit the dim room, light being jealously warded from the cell by the narrowness of the embrasures. Nothing else furnished the room except a somewhat rusty iron ring that had been set into the wall above the cot.

Titus drew her over towards the bed where he quickly locked the chain to the ring, giving it a firm tug to make sure it was secure. With Xena's freedom, further contained, the centurion felt it safe to exit with the guards, leaving her alone within the cell.

It felt strange, she realised, to be free from continuous observation. For more than two moons she had been subjected to having her every movement, waking or sleeping, watched by at least six men. The sudden removal of this silent intrusion left her feeling almost edgy and vulnerable. Unsure of herself in a way that she had no real experience of.

It took he time to isolate those feelings and dispel them, but once she had it had felt so good to be alone at last .. and that led to the inevitable fear her normal six guardians would come through the cell door at any moment. So she remained standing where she'd been left beside the bed, waiting for them to return to take up residence, denying her the precious illusion of privacy and solitude.

She had no idea just how long she stood there.. her mind seemed to disengage, leaving her to soak in the wonderful feeling of seclusion that had been denied her for so long. Her mind dwelt on the relative punishments of solitary confinement and deprivation of privacy. Either could be a torment, but her nature would have coped better with the former rather than the latter. She was by nature a loner.

- Except Gabrielle stole that from me, - she conceded with a gentle smile. Her verbose young friend had broken through the walls she had painstakingly erected to keep her away from friendship and companionship, so that she was now at least willing to suffer the nearness of her friends. - That's a strange thought in itself, - she mused, - I don't think I ever believed that I, Xena of Amphipolis, Warrior Princess, Destroyer of Nations, would ever have a group of people who would deign to call me 'friend' -

Finally she awoke from her reverie and, satisfied that she would indeed be left alone, indulged her curiosity by shuffling across to the one window that the chain allowed her to reach, and looked out. - Well, well, - she chuckled, - a room with a view indeed! -

Although the slit was high and narrow, her own long frame allowed her command of the view below her, where a smaller person would have struggled to see anything but the sky. As it was, she had a bird's eye view of part of the city and all of the harbour where she saw and recognised a fleet of Roman triremes which lay at anchor there. She counted fourteen of the big war galleys and a handful of the smaller biremes as well. - Transport for Caesar and his pet legion? - she considered, - Or are they here for some other purpose? -

She spent some time just gazing out of the narrow window, just enjoying the chance to observe a normal world, when hers had descended into the pits of Tartarus. In her current existence the chance to stop and watch, without being watched in turn, was something rare to be treasured. She lost all track of the time that she spent just breathing in the distant sights and sounds of people free to come and go as they pleased, but it eventually registered in her mind that she had become jealous of the ordinary people with the ordinary lives, that had been unpolluted by the depths of anger and hatred that consumed her.

She turned away from the outside world with a discontented growl. She jerked her wrists against the shackles that restrained them, feeling her frustration beginning to burn up within her once more. She loathed being confined, she hated the chains that limited her movement, the cells that held her penned in, the intrusive presence of guards watching her every move! It was intolerable!

All of her life she had tried to avoid the confines of four walls. She felt constrained and hemmed in after any length of time spent inside. Her Mother had often despaired of her wild daughter who preferred to spend the daylight hours out in the woods and meadows, and the night time down in the more open stables, when she could manage to slip away. That feeling of being crowded in by walls, was beginning to be more and more persistent and invasive.

By returning to the bed, Xena relaxed the chain on her collar. Without really thinking, the Warrior Princess took a firm grip on it. She doubted that she'd be able to break the chain as it was made to the same strong specifications as her manacles and leg irons, but the ring was old and rusty. She examined it critically. With just a little effort she should be able to pull it out of the wall, leaving her free to roam the entire twelve foot square space of the cell.

A little more freedom. A small act of defiance. Minor things to remind herself that she was Xena of Amphipolis and not some pet animal belonging to Julius Caesar! With anger and resentment guiding her thoughts and actions .. and a need to assert her individuality, Xena took a tight grasp on the chain, flexed her considerable might and, with a screech of shearing metal, the chain came loose as the rusted metal was torn apart.

Allowing herself a crooked smile of satisfaction, she swung her attention to the cell door as it crashed back against the outside wall and the guard started to bull their way into the room. Facing them, blue eyes smouldering with icy fire that sent chills of fear through her opponents, she gathered in the thick length of chain and started to swing it in a lazy figure of eight pattern before her. "BACK OFF!" she warned, her voice like cracked ice.

The soldiers hesitated in the doorway for a heartbeat before deciding that it wasn't worth the pain involved in trying to subdue her at this point. They edged back out of her space, slamming and locking the door behind themselves. Senses alert, Xena heard the optio in charge of the guard, send a message to inform his superiors of the situation.

The Warrior Princess nodded to herself. The man was happy enough to leave her alone until ordered to do otherwise, secure in the knowledge that she couldn't get out of the cell except through the heavily guarded door.

Xena sighed. It was a minor victory and would no doubt be paid for, but it was necessary for her to keep her spirit alive. She shuffled across the floor to the arrow slit that she hadn't been able to reach, and gazed out into the falling dusk. There wasn't much of a change in the view but, since she had probably earned a beating to see it she was determined to make the most of it.

She stood by the window until the darkness obscured everything from sight, before shrugging her shoulders and turning back to her pallet. She had expected Titus or Flaccus to come charging in within moments of receiving the optio's message. She wasn't sure whether or not she should be disappointed by the lack of response to her small rebellion. That was a thought that almost made her laugh, - Like some child misbehaving to get her parent's attention! - That was not an image that sat well with her, however, so she mentally snarled, - Well, I'm no child and I don't give a centaur's fart for any of the attention I get from Caesar and his lackeys. In fact the less attention the better! - she declared silently.

She eased herself onto her bed. An unexpected luxury if ever she'd seen one. It had been so long since she'd slept on any kind of real bed that she'd almost forgotten what one felt like. As she settled into the prickly straw mattress, her stomach gave a hollow growl and caused her to wonder if she'd get any food after her little display of ire.

As if summoned, she heard the bolts being withdrawn on the cell door and, as they fumbled with the key in the lock, she quickly stood, readying the chain to employ it against anyone seeking to use it to re-tether her to anything. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as the door was swung open, but the look softened as she saw Patroclese, carrying a water skin and a tray of food, being ushered in and the door closing behind him.

"Xena," he said carefully, watching her to see if she was exhibiting any signs of violence.

She eyed him warily before dropping her defensive stance and allowed him to approach her, "Been given the task of talking me into more passive behaviour?" she questioned, "Or have you just been told to bring in drugged food and water so that they won't have any trouble when they come in here after me?" she demanded suspiciously.

Patroclese put the tray and skin on the pallet and held up his hands placatingly, "You have my word that neither the food, nor the water has been tampered with in any way," he promised.

She gave him a long, cool, look before deciding to believe him ... somewhat. The healer had, after all, proven himself to be a friend of sorts, so long as she discounted his role in bringing her to this pass in the first place. Since that time he hadn't lied to her, so she had no reason to doubt his word. She would be cautious though. Drugs could have been administered without his knowledge.

Xena moved around the bed and sat down on it facing the cell door. She picked up the tray and placed it on her lap. The plate on it sported a large helping of what appeared to be roast pork, as well as generous amounts of carrots, peas and turnip. Noticing the lack of any cutlery to eat with, she used her fingers to lift a piece of the meat and nibbled it cautiously checking for odd tastes that would alert her to tampering.

Motioning Patroclese to sit beside her, the Warrior Princess quirked an eyebrow and asked him, "Not even a spoon this time?" a faint tinge of sarcasm creeping into her tone as she sampled each item on the tray, before deciding that it would be safe to eat.

"Um, I think that you're upsetting Lord Caesar and his officers. They really weren't happy with you breaking that chain free," he told her. "I had to do some fast talking to get you a meal instead of a double squad of soldiers coming in here to batter you into submission again. I didn't think it too good an idea to press for cutlery. They seemed to think you might use anything I brought for a weapon."

Xena concentrated on eating for a while before she said to the healer, "Well, you better make your pitch."

"I'm sorry?" asked Patroclese a little confused.

"They sent you in here to try and calm me down and talk me into more suitable, slave-like behaviour, right?" she took another mouthful as he nodded, "Well you better get on with it, then."

The healer looked at her in confusion, guilt and anger, "Xena why do you do this? It gains you nothing but trouble. You can't escape, and every time you pull off some stunt like this you take punishment." He stood up and started pacing out the distance in front of her, "You know, I've fixed your injuries up more times than I care to count. I don't think I've ever treated any patient for more wounds ..."

"Talk to your boss about it," she suggested cuttingly.

He turned to face her, "I want to know, Xena, why you persist in drawing down the brutal punishments you get?"

She gave him a considering glance, "Look, Patroclese, I've tried to explain it to you before, but I'll tell you once again. It keeps me alive .. here," she reiterated, tapping her fist over her heart twice, "and, more importantly, it let's the bastard know that he doesn't control me. He may hold me captive and in chains, but he cannot control my will, my being. I won't be 'tamed' by him or anyone else. I am a warrior, this is the only fight in town and I'll be damned to Tartarus again before I let him beat me!"

He stood looking her for a long time as she finished off the food and meticulously licked the juices off of her fingers. He threw up his hands in exasperation and declared, "You are so stubborn!"

"You're not the first person to mention that," she admitted with a touch of wry humour, "So what do they intend to do about me?"

"Nothing," he replied shortly, "We're leaving for Rome in the morning. You can't get out of this room, so they'll leave you alone for the night. But in the morning, they'll come in here mob handed if you show them the slightest sign of resistance." He gave her a quizzical look, "You're not going to provoke them in the morning, are you?"

She raised an arched eyebrow at him, before sipping experimentally at the water in the skin. Deciding that there were no foreign substances in there, she took four long swallows, before avoiding his question with a compliment, "Nice meal. How'd you manage to get me that instead of the normal swill?"

Knowing that he was being diverted, Patroclese, never-the-less, answered the question, "I convinced Lord Caesar that you'd already lost far too much weight. You're not going to be much use to him if you lose your conditioning and strength. If he insists on making you his personal gladiator, he needs to make sure that you get good, nourishing food, or he could lose you. And if he does that ..."

"He loses his hold on Verchinex," she finished for him, "Yeah, I know. Don't think that I haven't considered that," she told him with a grim look in her blue eyes.

Patroclese turned stern eyes upon her, "Don't even think about it, Xena," he warned, "You're no use to your friends and family if you're dead."

The grim look was still there, but she replied, "Don't worry about it. I'm not dumb enough to think that Caesar won't bother with taking out revenge against those I care for should I deprive him of my services in that manner," She looked, he noted, glumly resigned to the situation, "No, I'll play his little game for a while longer ... but I'll play it my way, not his!"

"Xena ..." there was almost a plea in his voice, "Xena ..."

"Don't worry about me," she repeated as she turned her heavenly, dangerous eyes upon him, "I'll survive ... and maybe I'll give Julius a taste of his own games," she added softly.

Recognising that he could do nothing to change the warrior's mind, Patroclese gathered the tray, but left Xena the water skin. Without another word he walked across to the iron door and banged on it, "I'm through," he called, "Let me out."

Xena watched as the door was opened and swung shut behind his retreating figure. The torches that lit the dark room, were beginning to gutter making eerie shadows leap and dance as they spluttered towards darkness. Laying back on the bed, she allowed her eyes to drift slowly shut and she slipped into the light sleep that could be thrown off the instant her senses detected danger.

Chapter Forty Two: Row, Row, Row Your Boat
The cell was still gripped by unrelieved darkness as Xena's eyes flicked open into instant alertness. She knew that it was less than a candlemark until dawn and her heightened senses warned her that the enemy was gathering it's forces behind the iron door. Even in fetters, she sprang nimbly from the cot and calmly awaited their entry. She relaxed her body and mind, lazily swung the collar chain .. reacquainting herself with the feel and weight of her only weapon .. and decided to await developments.

She heard the bolts being drawn and the key turning in the lock, even though they seemed to be taking pains to accomplish this task as silently as possible. The door was swung back and four men, bearing torches, stepped over the threshold. The sudden brilliance that the flaming brands brought, dazzled the warrior momentarily, forcing her to squint against the violent harshness of the light. She forced her eyes to became accustomed to the brightness and immediately recognised that Caesar stood framed in the doorway, with the torch bearers having moved to the side.

Xena waited uneasily. If Caesar was there he no doubt intended to deliver some ultimatum that she was unlikely to appreciate. She remained silent, although she arched one eyebrow questioningly at him as she watched the flickering light dancing and reflecting on his burnished armour. - He looks ... good, - she admitted to herself grudgingly as she felt the subtle pull of attraction that Caesar seemed able to exert at will. - He knows the effect he has on women, - she acknowledged, - But I'll give myself to Ares before I ever allow myself to be fooled by him again! -

Caesar looked at the woman before him, silently appraising her as he had so often over the passing days since her captivity, - She's a half wild savage with a homicidal streak that makes her one of the most dangerous people living in this world, - he told himself coolly, - but she makes my blood burn like no other woman ever has! - he conceded reluctantly. - I may never break you, my sweet, but you'll never be free of me, and that in itself gives me dominance over you, O proud Warrior Princess. You are mine. One way or another, you will always be mine! -

They stood unmoving, silent in their contemplation of each other, locked in their private battle for control of the situation. A situation in which Caesar was always going to have the upper hand ... at least until some chance occurred that would allow the warrior to break his hold upon her. Finally, Caesar broke the silence and spoke, "Well, Xena. When are you going to learn proper obedience?"

A crooked twist to her lips accompanied her reply, "Why don't you come and teach me?" she invited as she hefted the chain. She knew Caesar wouldn't respond to her challenge, but it would rankle him that she knew he would avoid her invitation. As she saw the muscle in his right cheek twitch, she knew she had scored a point.

"I don't brawl with slaves, Xena. I have far better ways of handling them," he pointed out, gesturing his head in the direction of the waiting guards who stood just behind him. "Now we can do this one of two ways. You can walk out here and behave in a suitably docile manner, in which case we'll overlook your ... temper tantrum of last night. Or ...." he left the sentence unfinished.

"Oh, c'mon Julius, don't leave the best part out," she chided mockingly, "Or what?"

"I've got a dozen men with dart bows out here who'll pump your body so full of Curamin that you won't wake up until we're half way to Rome, and leave you to the mercies of your nightmares!" he told her flatly, "Your choice."

The mocking look remained on her features as she responded, "Choices, choices," she breathed as though she were considering her options, "Well I'll tell you what, old friend," she shot him a malicious look, "Since you so want me to take a sea voyage with you ... it's been some years since we did that together," she reminded him, "I think I'll opt to stay awake for a while. I like to feel awake at sea .. you never know what opportunities might present themselves," she informed him using stately tones that created the illusion that she was indeed solely in charge of events.

Caesar scowled. The woman was infuriating. However much he knew himself to be master of this situation, she always seemed to find a way to make him appear to be the lackey. However, he had no intention of showing her or his men how frustrated she made him. Standing aside from the door, he made a sweeping gesture with his arm, inviting her out from the cell, "If you please?"

Xena shuffled out of the room into the crowded corridors where her guards awaited her along with the thick oak beam, the longer leg irons, and the various handling chains. While the changes to her restraints were made, Caesar disappeared down the stairway, his personal involvement with her finished for the time being.

Flaccus appeared in front of her and grabbed the chain close to the collar, pulling her forward, "Your getting off light for your actions yesterday, but let me make it as clear as I can, as you have obviously failed to understand my previous explanations." He nodded to the two men behind him who slammed their batons against the taught muscles at her shoulders, "Firstly, if any Roman tells you to jump, you jump."

Again the heavy wooden batons struck, this time on her lower back. She grunted, realising that these were fully swung blows, not held back in anyway, and designed to hurt as much as possible, "Secondly, you will not attempt any form of resistance to your masters."

Two more blows smashed into the back of her thighs, making her legs tremble with the pain they induced, a bare, soft groan escaped her, "Thirdly, you speak only when spoken to."

The batons crunched in behind her knees causing her to collapse forward onto them from the force of the blows, "Lastly, you will always act with suitable humility and respect when in the presence of Lord Caesar!"

He grabbed her chin and forced her head up to be met with chill blue eyes blazing with anger and indignation, "Learn the lessons, slave. We can administer punishment for far longer than your body can take it."

Xena shook her head free and with dogged determination, forced herself to stand once more in front of the Centurion. He gave her a long, considering look. Flaccus had been in the army for many years. He was a hard demanding officer and had worked his ways through the ranks of the legions to attain his present post. He'd seen many men come into the legions during that time. Some were eager soldiers who adapted easily to the harsh disciplines of the legionnaire's life. Others were like this slave, strong, full of arrogance and pride who had tried to buck the system, until the system ground resistance out of them. They had either become good soldiers, or had died in the making.

This woman was made of similar metal. She was physically and mentally strong. She had withstood all the rigours of physical and mental abuse that had been thrown at her and continued to resist to the full extent of her ability. Flaccus had never been faced with a man he could not break to the discipline of his station, but he thought that this slave might be the first to fully resist him. He wasn't sure whether he felt anger at an impending first failure, or admiration for the tenacity of the woman.

"Take her down to the courtyard, and wait for the others," he snapped at the twenty man unit assigned to the task for the morning.

The lead jerked her forward as Xena dwelt on his words, - Others? What Others? Gods, don't let them have taken Toris and Iolaus, - she prayed silently.

It was a difficult climb, going back down those steps. Her guards were not in a mood to accommodate her awkwardness and, even though she now wore the longer leg irons, she still stumbled, unbalanced by the beam restraining her arms, and would have crashed down a full flight of stone stairs if the press of bodies around her hadn't been so tight.

They finally made it out to the dark courtyard, where the rest of the guard maniple were assembling. She was pulled to a halt just away from the base of the tower, and she became aware of the rattle and clank of chains as maybe fifty men were lead out from the dungeon entrance to be detained on the opposite side of the yard from where she was being held.

- Poor bastards, - she thought with compassion and relief that she couldn't identify either Iolaus or Toris amongst them. She guessed that these men were destined to live out the rest of their existence chained to an oar in one of the Roman galleys out in the harbour. It was not an enviable life and, whatever they had done, no one deserved such a fate. - Well at least I know why I wasn't put into the dungeon yesterday, - she brooded, - the accommodation was already taken. -

The men wore an ankle cuff on the right leg and a chain connected each man to the next in a long line that was guarded by half a dozen garrison guards who looked bored and uninterested in their mundane task. Xena compared her own, highly efficient guards, the chains that loaded down her body and allowed herself a wry grin. She wasn't the only one to notice the difference. Men from the line of the condemned galley slaves whispered, nudged and pointed to each other as they became aware of the tall woman who stood in the midst of twenty men who watched her every move for the slightest twitch.

Finally Caesar, his staff and personal guards appeared and the whole procession formed up to make the march down to the harbour and the waiting ships. Caesar and his group led the way, followed by Flaccus and Xena with her attendant soldiers, - I've got more of a staff than he has, - she thought wryly. About half of the remaining soldiers from the maniple fell in behind these, before the luckless galley slaves were herded into line and backed up by the rest of the maniple.

The sun slowly began to push it's way over the horizon as they clattered along the cobbles of the harbour road. A few early risers watched them pass, many shook their heads at the sight of the chained men. No one spared a thought for the proud barbarian woman who marched along, her face a blank mask while she concentrated on keeping her balance on the uneven surface as the muscles in her legs screamed from the pounding they had received.

When they reached the docks, Xena could see that one of the large triremes had been warped in and secured to the wharf, while others had boats ferrying units of the VIIth legion out to them, - So Caesar's taking his pet Legion home. I wonder how Pompey is gonna feel about that? - she asked herself.

Xena studied the warship, while she and her escort waited for their embarkation orders. The ship was just over a hundred and eighty feet in length, she calculated, and had a beam of about twenty-eight feet. There were ports for three banks of oars on either side of the ship, suggesting that it could move very fast under the raw muscle power of the slaves chained to those oars. The prow sported a wicked looking curved ram, sheathed in bronze, designed to hole an enemy ship below the waterline, and sink her. There was a high, plain sternpost on the rear deck above the junior officer's cabins, while senior officer's accommodations were up at the prow of the ship downwind of the slave pits. The stench that came from the slave galley was indescribable.

One thick mast rose from the centre of the slave pit with a large sail that would be used to catch favourable winds and save the strength of the slaves for when either the wind dropped or battle was imminent. Triremes could manoeuvre more swiftly and with greater turning capacity under the power of the oars, than the fickle fortunes of the wind.

Xena watched as Caesar confidently mounted the gangplank followed by his staff and guard, and was greeted by an enthusiastic captain, who was happy to show his pleasure in having his illustrious passenger aboard. The Warrior Princess shook her head in disgust. One of the worst things about the Roman military system was that it provided a route into politics. That meant that every mother's son who held commissioned officers rank was, - Some fornicating arse-licker that's trying to ingratiate himself to the top of the tree, - she growled to herself. She had far more respect for the likes of Titus and Flaccus who had earned their promotions from the ranks, though they could proceed no further in the military hierarchy.

While the guard maniple stood vigilant around Xena, the condemned men were herded on board the big vessel by their shepherds. The warrior received many inquisitive looks as they were hustled past her, and she watched sympathetically as they hesitantly climbed aboard the ship and disappeared from sight as they were taken below into the slave pit.

Xena could hear the muffled sounds of chains being secured as the men were assigned places on the oar benches, and the heavy thud of hammers as chain ends were secured into the oak frame of the ship with heavy staples designed for the job. Whips cracked as slave masters made their presence felt and 'instructed' the new men in the realities of their existence, sounds that filled the wharf with the brutal realities of a galley slave's life.

She didn't bother keeping track of how long she was kept standing on the wharf, but the sun had raised significantly before Flaccus tugged on the chain to get her moving towards the ship. She moved her feet carefully, her bruised muscles had seized with standing still for so long and made walking a little treacherous. Once up on deck the wooden stake was removed giving her a little more freedom of movement.

She glanced around at the layout of the ship. The slave pit lay along the centre of the structure, with gratings covering a long length and more solid, wooden decks at the prow and stern ends, as well as along the maindeck edges. The prow also had a small raised deck used as a firing platform for archers during battle, while the stern had a far larger, raised, deck housing the wheel and giving assault troops somewhere to mass ready for boarding parties.

Caesar appeared by the stern deck rail and looked down on his slave, "I've arranged for you to get a little exercise, Xena. I know how much you've hated being cooped up while we travelled in Narbonensis, so I've arranged with Admiral Veranius to have you do a little light rowing," he smiled at the glare she threw him, "It should keep you out of trouble on our journey to Rome and, if this fair weather holds, the voyage should be quite pleasant."

He gave her an evil grin as she threw her guards hands off of her, "Oh, Xena," he called after her, "Try to behave yourself down there. The oarsmaster has something of a temper, I'm told, and I can hardly expect him to treat you any differently from any of the other slaves, now can I? ... even if you are my personal property." His malicious laugh followed her as Flaccus dragged her to towards the hatchway and she was prodded along by the batons of her guards.

There were wooden steps down into the slave pit and the warrior tackled them with difficulty as she bent her head to pass through the hatchway. The stench of the slaves intensified as she descended from the open deck, making her stomach churn in protest.

Once down the steps, she could see a raised walkway that ran centrally between the benches of rowers, both in front and behind of where the steps ended. The walkway was about four feet wide, and there were extension platforms built to allow the overseers to pass the steps and mast without mingling with the rowers.

The rowing benches were built on a three tier system, to accommodate the three banks of oars. Six men were seated on each bench and shackled to their oars. As Xena understood the system, three men would row while three would rest unless they were going into battle when all slaves would bend their backs to the oars.

The Oarsmaster gave her a long considering look as he took note of the heavy chains that decorated her wrists and ankles, "This one's trouble, I take it?" he growled to Flaccus.

"Make sure your men keep an eye on her at all times," the centurion advised, "It took a whole maniple to capture her, and if she gets free the Emperor will have everyone on this boat's hides," he warned.

"Where's she think she's going to go if she gets free from the pit?" asked the oarsmaster incredulously.

Flaccus gave him an amused look, "Having come to know the damn woman, she'd probably swim for shore ... and I'm not certain that I'd bet against her making it."

The muscular oarsmaster eyed the troublesome slave with hostility. She turned the full force of her icy blue glare on him, "What if she causes trouble down here?" he queried.

"Treat her like any other galley slave," Flaccus told him, "you've only got one stipulation and that is you can't kill her. She's Lord Caesar's personal property and any man that kills the bitch is going to be skinned alive and roasted over a slow fire. Understand?"

The oarsmaster nodded reluctantly, "Those shackles have gotta come off her, she can't row an oar in those."

"The leg irons can stay on .. once I get her boots .. she won't need them down here," Flaccus told him, "That belt can stay around her waist. If you have any trouble with her that you can't handle, lock her back into those restraints, and send for me. I'll take the collar chain with me." He looked hard at Xena, "She's got a smart mouth and hasn't learnt her place. Don't be afraid to use the whip on her, she can take anything you can dish out." He frowned at the warrior, "You gonna behave or do we have to get rough again?"

The warrior looked at him and said nothing, "Damn you slave," he growled with controlled exasperation, "Do we have to go through our conversation of this morning again?"

Xena's glance told her that all the guards were alert and ready, there wasn't really a lot she could do but submit, "No," she told him, holding out her wrists, "I won't give you any trouble," she conceded and then added the codicil in her mind, - For now! -

Flaccus unlocked the cuffs at her wrist, allowing the manacles to fall and settle at her waist. He gave her the key to the leg irons, "Take them off, get your boots off and then lock the shackles back on."

She took the key and gave him a wicked grin, but followed his instructions, handing her boots to him. He unlocked the chain from the collar and stepped aside as an overseer shoved her forward, further down the line of benches to where there was a spare seat on the end of a top tier bench.

Flaccus watched as Xena's wrists were locked into the manacles already secured to the oar. Once he was satisfied that she was secure, he gave one last word of warning to the oarsmaster, "She is about the most complete and deadly fighter I have ever seen, don't take any chances with her, and remember, any trouble, you send someone for me, hear?"

"Understood," agreed the oarsmaster as he watched Flaccus leave. "Urminus," he barked.

A six foot tall, solid slab of muscle moved along the walkway to his commander, "Aye Trassis?" he asked.

"I want you to give the woman a taste of what's in store for her if she causes any trouble here," he told him levelly, "then I want you to make sure that she remembers it throughout this trip. If she even looks like she's thinking about trouble, use the whip, understand?"

"Sure Trassis," Urminus replied with a grin. This was the kind of assignment he liked, he just hoped that the woman was stupid enough to prove troublesome. He made his way to where Xena sat passively on the bench. Without saying anything, he flicked his whip and slashed it across her shoulders, seeing her body jump to the bite, but noting that she uttered no cry of pain.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and used it to pull her head around to face him, "That's just a touch of what you'll be getting if you prove to be the trouble that I expect," he promised.

She gave him a look of contempt, then spat full in his face, "That the best you can do?" she sneered disdainfully.

Using his not inconsiderable brute strength, he smashed her head forward into the heavy wood of the oar, causing darkness and light to flash in her brain as she struggled to stay conscious. She was 'helped' when another lash cracked across her back, jerking her back to full awareness with the pain, "You know, I might enjoy taming you," he told her.

"In your dreams," she growled at him, drawing a laugh from the hulking brute.

"Oh yes, this voyage could be fun." he chuckled.

Xena gave a tentative pull at the manacles holding her wrists and knew that she could break out of them any time that she had a mind too. Well if Urminus became too annoying, she'd give him a lesson in humility. For now, though, she'd go along with the rowing to work off some of the excess energy that had been forged during her confinement, that and the fact that it would give her lazy muscles a thorough workout.

Chapter Forty Two: Row, Row, Row Your Boat
Continued
Caesar sat relaxed in Admiral Veranius' sumptuous cabin that he'd appropriated for himself for the voyage to Rome. The chair that he lounged in was thickly padded and enjoyably comfortable. His inspection of the quarters had shown him that only the finest of furnishings found a home here, which meant he could look forward to a comfortable few days as they made the trip. He chuckled to himself at the thought of Xena in the slave pit, - Not the most desirable way to travel, - he congratulated himself for the idea. - Four days with some hard labour and harder discipline, won't do her any harm at all. One way or another she has got to learn not to cross my will! - There was a loud rap on the door that broke into his train of thoughts, "Come," he commanded.

Veranius gave a stiff salute and the broke into a friendly smile, "How do you like the cabin, Julius?" he questioned, taking the seat that Caesar waved him to.

"More than adequate for the few days to Rome, Marcus, my friend," he smiled in reply. "Have you settled my slave into her 'accommodations'?" he asked.

"Your Centurion, Flaccus?, saw that she was safely secured down there," the Admiral acknowledged, "Good man that," he mentioned recognising a thorough going professional when he saw one, "Would you care for some wine?" he asked as he rose from his chair and moved to the hanging wine cellar where he selected a stone bottle from the racks, "I can vouch for it's quality," he said with a wink, "It came from my own vineyards and is a very good vintage."

Caesar accepted the goblet that Veranius handed him and drank appreciatively of the golden wine, "It's as good as I remember," congratulated the noble as he watched his friend take his seat.

"Julius," the Admiral began hesitantly, "Are you sure that you want a woman slave down there. It's not a very healthy place and the slaves are treated more than harshly."

"Believe me, Marcus, that particular slave can endure anything that your men can throw at her for the few days it'll take to make the trip. Her strength is phenomenal, so much so that she is quite capable of manning one of your oars on her own. She is also incredibly deadly," he fingered the scar across his cheek.

"That's new," commented Veranius, taking a long look at the scar, "I intended to ask you about that,"

"A gift from Xena," acknowledged Caesar grimly.

"The slave? She's Xena?" asked the Admiral in concern, "Julius, do you really think it's wise leaving her down there? She could cause trouble. Surely it would be better to keep her in close confinement somewhere?"

Looking at his friend, Caesar shrugged, "That woman would cause trouble anywhere. Flaccus has warned your oarsmaster. It might not hurt for you to reinforce just how dangerous she is. Just make sure she's watched at all times, and work her hard. If she rows a double shift and then has one off we should be able to tire her out enough to keep her in hand."

"I'll see to it," agreed Veranius, uncomfortably.

Caesar took a long sip of his wine, "This really is excellent, Marcus," he complimented, turning his thoughts away from Xena and onto other matters, "Which route will we be taking?" he asked.

"I thought we could take the middle passage between Corsica and Sardinia. It's the shortest route, and I really need to be back on patrol as quickly as possible," explained the Admiral.

"So tell me, was your recent cruise successful?" asked Caesar idly.

An angry look fluttered across the Veranius' face, "No, by Neptune's trident, it wasn't," he growled. "The swine refused to stand and fight! I've been chasing them across the Mediterranean for weeks and as soon as I've dropped you and your men off in Rome, I'll be out after the bastards again," he grumbled, as he began to explain the current situation to Caesar.

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They had been at sea for a day and a half and it had been a painful and exhausting period for the Warrior Princess. Urminus had hardly ventured away from the oar she was chained to. Given the slightest excuse, the man was fully eager to use his whip. If she opened her mouth to speak to the men around her, both she and they felt the sting of the lash. Everyone was well aware that she was a 'special' case and did their best to keep a distance between her and themselves.

All through the long first day, she had pulled at the oar. The fact that she pulled double shifts, gave the other men on the oar extra rest, for which they were grateful, but four candlemarks of hauling on an oar, with only two off, left Xena acutely aware that she was severely out of condition. Her long period of captivity and relative inactivity had allowed her muscles to slip from the supreme condition she normally maintained.

Nighttime had brought some respite as the fleet only travelled in darkness in urgent situations, otherwise they were content to ride out the night and continue from first light in the morning.

Xena had slept hunched over her oar. She was too tired to eat and only took the time to fill herself with water because she knew that she needed it. Her whole body ached and her back was a mass of welts beneath her shirt. It was fairly obvious that orders were to keep her too tired and in pain to even think about starting any trouble.

The following morning, the galley slaves were woken by the crack of whips in the air, and across the backs of those who didn't move quick enough for the liking of the overseers. Xena was expecting the stinging blow that fell across her shoulders, it wouldn't have mattered how quickly she responded, the lash would have fallen on her anyway. As the drummer began to beat out the rhythm for the speed, the great oars rose and dipped in unison, getting the ship underway. She began her four candlemark shift with silent fortitude, adding Urminus' name and face to a mental list of people that she owed debts to.

By midday, a thick fog had blown up out of nowhere shrouding the fleet in a solid blanket of white. No orders came for the rowers to be stopped, so the slaves continued to bend their backs into their task, moving with the slow cadence that the drum dictated. An eerie silence seemed to descend over everything, causing unease amongst the rowers who could feel an impending doom. Without warning the slave pit was thrown into turmoil and panic, as something hit the side of the ship, snapping the great oars like twigs and sending long thick splinters shearing through the enclosed space like death dealing scythes.

Amidst the groans of the injured and dying, the Warrior Princess could hear the trumpets calling both soldiers and sailors to battle. Deciding that she would never likely have a better chance to break free, and not liking the thought of being chained in the slave pit of a galley during a battle, Xena was just preparing to snap out of her shackles, when six men from the elite maniple clattered down the ladder from the deck and moved to her side.

"Thank the gods she wasn't killed," she heard the officer declare as he ordered her release from the oar. A look around the pit showed that other slaves had not been so lucky, "The emperor wants her somewhere a bit safer than this until we've taught the damned Carthaginians a lesson they won't soon forget."

Unlocked from the fetters that had held her to the oar, the chain was locked back to her collar and she was pulled roughly from the rowing bench as the drummer picked up the beat indicating that they were about to tackle an enemy ship.

Xena expected her guards to snap the manacles from the belt at her waist, around her wrists but, either in the poor light they failed to see them, or in the excitement of knowing the battle was about to be joined, their eagerness led them to neglect the elementary precaution and they failed to do so. Instead she was hurried towards the ladder and encouraged to climb by the man holding her 'leash' pulling hard for her to follow him. Having use of her hands made the climb fairly easy, and she emerged on deck to witness chaotic preparations for a sea fight.

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Caesar had been standing on the stern deck along with Admiral Veranius and several of each man's junior officers, "Is it wise to keep going in this fog?" questioned Caesar, peering into the blanket of white, just able to make out the torch lights on the ships keeping closest station to them.

"So long as we keep station with the fleet and maintain our current speed and direction, there's no real danger," Veranius told him, competently.

"How often do you have to travel like this?" questioned Caesar, uncomfortable at being so cut off from his surroundings.

"It's not something that occurs too often," admitted the Admiral turning to snap an order at the helmsman. As he turned back he added, "We're in deep water here, we're still some distance from the channel between the islands. We can afford to continue as we are at the moment. If the fog doesn't lift in four candlemarks are so, I'll send out an order to heave too for the night."

Sound had seemed peculiarly muffled and the men spoke in muted whispers as they went about their assigned tasks. The odd silence had Caesar straining to hear every little sound, every shift in the atmosphere around him. He felt vulnerable and out of control, neither of which he felt comfortable with. He also felt some vague sense of foreboding, as if something unwelcome was coming in his direction.

His overstrained ears picked up a sound somewhere off the port bow, "What was that?" he questioned Veranius.

Veranius strained to hear, and soon all could make out the sound of cracking timbers, clashing swords and the cry of injured and dying men, "Hard a starboard," yelled the Admiral as they saw the prow of a ship looming out of the gloom to their right.

The order no doubt saved the ship as the Carthaginian trireme, instead of ramming and holing the Roman galley, merely sheared across some of the oars, snapping them and setting up a fearful wailing as slaves were injured and killed below. As Veranius barked instructions and men prepared for battle, with trumpets blaring out orders, Caesar grabbed one of his junior officers and snapped, "Get down below and get Xena out of there. Take five men with you. Escort her to my Cabin and chain her to the ringbolt that holds the desk in place, then you and your men stay with her and make sure she stays put."

"Yes sir," acknowledged the optio, rushing swiftly to gather his men and headed down into the slave pit.

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Once up on deck Xena was quick to take in the details of what was happening. Her acute hearing picked up the sounds of more fighting between ships hidden in the fog. The ship she was on was chasing an enemy trireme as it retreated into the thick covering whiteness. A glance over the side of the ship showed substantial debris floating around, obviously the remains of other ship to ship conflicts, and up on the sterndeck, along with some other officers, stood Caesar.

The optio tugged hard on her leash and started moving towards the stern and the door that lead to the officers cabins. Plans flashing through her mind, Xena allowed herself to be moved in that direction until she reached the place where she could execute her hastily conceived idea.

Grabbing the leash in both hands, she pulled back hard on the chain, unbalancing the optio and sending him sprawling to the deck releasing the chain as he fell. Not giving the other guards time to react, Xena emitted her ululating cry and flipped with unbelievable ease up onto the stern deck close to Caesar. The Roman turned just in time to find himself face to face with the Warrior Princess, who grabbed him round the waist and leaped over the stern railing, taking them both into the sea.

Chapter Forty Three: You, Me and the Wide, Wide Sea
Weighted down with chains and a struggling Caesar, Xena knew that she had to act fast or all her hastily conceived plan would do would get her and her 'prisoner' drowned. Summoning her strength, she cracked a solid fist against the struggling man's jaw, knocking him out so that she could take stock of the situation. Fighting against the burden of shackles and a heavy, armour clad man, she desperately looked around for a large enough piece of wreckage to support both of them, and was relieved when she located the huge piece of decking, that had a stub end of mast through the centre, that she'd spotted from the ship she'd just left in such an unconventional manner.

Swimming towards it was not easy, especially towing the unconscious Caesar behind her, but she managed. Hauling herself up onto the 'raft' was a time consuming process that took a lot of her reserves of strength, especially as she had to hold onto Caesar so that he didn't sink under the weight of his armour. Having pulled herself out of the water, she turned her attentions to her enemy, forcing herself to slowly hoist his dead weight over the lip of the raft and onto the safety of the planking. Finally succeeding with her task, she allowed herself to collapse and, breathing deeply, recover from her exertions.

She knew that she couldn't rest for too long. She needed to find a way to secure Caesar so that he couldn't cause her any problems. As she pushed herself up from her prone position her hands brushed against the manacles that hung from the leather belt. She grinned to herself, - Well, fair is fair, - she thought, as her hands reached behind her and struggled to released the three stiff buckles that strapped the belt in place.

Xena contemplated her captive, - The breast plate will have to go, - she decided, - in fact all the armour can go. I'd better see if he's got any weapons other than his sword, while I'm at it. -

Working quickly, expert fingers released the buckles and straps that secured the Roman's armour. She tossed it to the far end of the raft before removing his sword belt and throwing that after the metal plates. Her hands worked quickly checking for any daggers that might be secreted about his person, and she found two wicked looking stilettos, one in either of his boots. She removed those throwing them to stand quivering in the wood with the other things she'd taken from him. As a final thought she took his boots and heaved them into the sea and removed his shirt, - Let's see how he fares in the hot sun without some protection. - It was a rather malicious piece of petty vindictiveness, but Xena thought she had earned the right to so be.

Rolling Caesar onto his stomach, she passed the belt around him and pulled the buckles tight, as he started to shift and moan. Before he returned to full consciousness, she turned him over onto his back and snapped the cuffs in place around his wrists and then dragged him across to the truncated mast stump and propped him up against it, moving round behind him she leaned against the opposite side of the broken remnant of thick wood and, using the chain from her collar, she wound it around the mast stump, including Caesar's neck, and held it tight by wrapping it around her left forearm. She needed to get some long overdue rest, and she wanted him where she knew exactly where he was.

She took a long look around the fog shrouded horizon and estimated that the sun wouldn't burn off the cloud for some time yet. She set her internal clock to allow herself three candlemarks sleep, and ignoring the feeble sounds coming from her prisoner, she willed herself into a light doze, from which she could snap to full alertness at the slightest hint of something wrong.

As Caesar struggled back to consciousness, his mind kept replaying the disturbing moment when Xena had appeared before him, like some vengeance seeking demon, before carrying him over the ships rail and into the sea below. Then he'd been struggling in the water, his damned heavy armour threatening to pull him under. After that he remembered nothing.

His eyes flickered open and registered the wall of whiteness that still enshrouded them, and the soft waves that lifted and lapped at the edges of the raft that he seemed to be sitting on. He winced as a pain shot through his jaw and he attempted to lift a hand to massage it, only to find it brought up short by the manacles he wore. He jerked his wrists in frustration recognising the restraints, used to hold Xena, that he'd conceived himself.

Angrily, he tried to stand, only to be made instantly aware of the chain around his neck. He reached up with his fettered hands, and his questing fingers identified the heavy links that lay there. Fuming he struggled against the shackles that held him, knowing that it was a wasted effort, realising that he had nowhere near the strength to come anywhere close to breaking free of them. After all, they were designed and crafted to hold a woman with the reputed strength of ten men.

Calming himself, he allowed his eyes to roam over the raft, or what he could see of it. His eyes were immediately drawn to the pile made by his weapons and armour at the far end of the piece of wreckage, the twin daggers standing tantalisingly just out of the reach of his foot. He strained forward, muscles stretching as he tried to work his toes close enough to the handle of the nearest one to capture it.

"Don't even think about it!" advised a steely voice from behind him.

- Of course, she had to be here somewhere, - he berated himself, for forgetting about the woman. He relaxed and willed his voice to calmness as he asked, "So, now, what do you intend? The two of us alone in the middle of nowhere, you must have a plan for this?"

"What I plan is to get a little sleep, during which time you better keep still and quiet, or I might just decide that I'd prefer to watch you drown. Do I make myself clear?" she growled menacingly.

"Perfectly," agreed Caesar, "Just try not to forget that you friends, Gabrielle, Joxer and Autolycus, all are dependent upon my continuing health, for their continuing existence." He choked as the chain around his neck was jerked with a savage strength that cut off his breathing. After what seemed to him to be forever, the pressure was relaxed and he coughed and wheezed as he tried to draw air in through a tortured throat into a body starved of oxygen.

"It's not too wise to push my patience at the moment," she told him bluntly, "I've suffered your abuse for far too long, and it might just be worth the consequences to see you crawl before I slice you open like the pig you are."

Caesar's mind warred with itself as the logical half tried to assure him that Xena would never sacrifice her friends for personal vengeance upon him, while a very real fear screamed that she would. This was the woman, after all who had butchered countless thousands in her personal rampage of conquest. - What are the lives of 'friends' to someone such as her? - an insistent voice demanded of him.

Having given her enemy something to think about other than the proximity of the daggers, Xena settled down again for some much needed rest. She'd work out just what she intended to do with Caesar when she woke up.

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At the exact time that she had set herself to wake, Xena's eyes flickered open to see that the fog had thinned somewhat in the ensuing time lapse. She could hear the soft snore coming from Caesar behind her and she screened the noise out to listen for the sound of life or ships around them ... and heard nothing.

She unwound the chain from where she'd anchored it on her arm and turned to get up. As soon as the resistance on the chain relaxed, Caesar scrambled towards where the knives stood held in the planking. Reaching with his right hand towards the handle of the dagger, a heavy foot stamped down on his wrist, "Aaarrrhh!" he cried as he heard the bone snap under the force of Xena's heel.

"Ah, ah, ahh!" she told him, as she plucked the stilettos out of the wood and tossed them with negligent expertise in her hands.

White faced, Caesar glared up at her. He slowly sat, cradling his fractured wrist as he did so, "By the gods Xena, you're going to suffer for this," he told her blackly.

"Oh right!" she snarled back, "What are you going to do to me that you haven't already done, Julius. Let's see, so far on the list you've had me crucified, broken my legs, had me beaten and whipped within an inch of my life, tried to break my will with mind games, used me to force a good man into an agreement that stinks of dishonour, threatened my friends, used me as a galley slave and ... oh yes, we shouldn't leave this out should we, betrayed my youthful love and trust, turning me into a monster who's only object in life was to kill!" She reeled off the catalogue with low menace, "No, Julius, I really don't think you can cause me any more suffering than you already have!"

He backed off under the intensity of her blazing blue eyes, not stopping until he felt the solid bulk of the broken mast behind him. Seeking to try and calm the highly volatile situation, he asked her in a more reasonable tone, "Just what do you think you can achieve by this?"

Xena kept an eye on him as she strapped his sword belt around her waist, threw one of the daggers over the side into the sea, and thrust the other into the belt. The armour she ignored. He wouldn't be able to use it as a weapon, and she didn't know if it would come in useful at some point. She curled up the neck chain and hung it over hilt of the sword - At least it won't drag on me so much that way, - she thought as she considered his question.

She gave him a hard look noting the way that his usual arrogant attitude slipped back on him like a mental cloak, "Maybe I won't gain anything out of this other than the satisfaction of making you squirm before I kill you ... And I can kill you, Julius. Over the years I've become very good at killing men. Then again," she grinned wolfishly as she saw him fighting the fear from showing in his eyes, "when the fighting's finished and the winner comes back looking for survivors, it just might be the Carthaginians who pick us up."

He gave her a searching, quizzical look, "What makes you think the men of Carthage will give you anything you want? You wear the collar of a slave, and under Carthaginian law you remain my slave, even if I'm taken by them."

She allowed the crooked half smile to play across her lips, never touching her eyes, "Laws are there to be broken. I have friends in Carthage, powerful friends who owe me a favour or two. I have little doubt that I'll be able to convince them to help me ... especially since I will have delivered you to them."

Caesar glared at her, as he weighed this piece of information for any flaws that he might be able to exploit. Seeing nothing he fell back to his previously prepared position, "Be very careful what you do, Xena, you're playing with the lives of your friends. When they die the guilt will be yours. You knew the situation, and you're playing with fire here. If I die, they die!"

The Warrior Princess laughed mirthlessly, "I have no intention of killing you, unless you force me to it. I'm certain that the Carthaginians will want to ransom you for concessions in land, trade and spheres of influence. I'm going to get the return of my friends tacked onto the ransom. Once they're out of your clutches I'll decide what to do about you."

"Just what, exactly, do you mean by that?" he questioned her suspiciously.

"I mean," she said as she slowly moved forward, her leg irons dragging heavily on the planking, "that I may just come after you for real, Julius. Especially if I think you intend to keep those bounties on mine and Gabrielle's heads."

"You honestly think you can get into Rome and past my security," he sneered contemptuously.

"I've done it before," she reminded him, "Only this time you won't know I'm there until you feel my steel in your guts."

"You mean my back, don't you?" he taunted, "That's how assassins work!" he sneered again.

"I'm not an assassin," she reminded him, "and I want to see into your eyes when I yank out your guts. It'll take you a long while to die from a wound like that. Maybe days. And I know no one who can heal such a wound. Oh, yes, I definitely want to see your eyes when I do that to you." she said as she put out a hand to lightly brush the scar she had left on his face, noting the mottled purple that studded his throat where the chain links had bitten.

He jerked his head away making himself wince as he did so by causing his wrist to jar, "You know, Xena, you'd frighten me far more if I didn't know that you care so much about these friends and family of yours. You won't risk their lives if you can possibly avoid it, even if it required you to surrender your own life to save theirs," he told her placidly, refusing to rise to her bait. He, after all, had a destiny, and it hadn't yet run it's course, "It makes you weak," he taunted, "and emotional. Hardly good attributes for a warrior."

"You’re wrong, Caesar," she told him softly, "Without love and compassion all you're left with is hate and indifference. That's a cold way to live ... but you've yet to discover the truth of that," she stood and glanced around the horizon noting that the fog had dispersed other than for insignificant tendrils that were quickly dissipating under the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Chapter Forty Three: You, Me and the Wide, Wide Sea
Continued
The area around them was littered with the wreckage of at least one ship, possibly more. She recognised one or two corpses floating amongst the flotsam, showing the early signs of bloating as they absorbed water. There were no other live people to be seen. She tensed as she sensed Caesar beginning to move, "Unless you want another broken bone, I suggest you sit still," she warned him coldly without looking at him, continuing to scan the seas.

Trying to make himself more comfortable against the mast stump, Caesar crossed his legs at the ankles and gave her an intent look, "What if my men are the winners? What if it's Veranius who finds us?"

She didn't look at him as she considered what her response should be. Instead she tried to gauge how much daylight was left to them, and guess how long they were likely to be left floating around on a lump of wreckage. She could tell he was watching her, trying to predict just what she'd say, so she purposefully kept her face a blank mask, leaving him to sweat a little.

"You're right to be afraid if they come back for us, you know," he goaded, determined to force an answer from her, "When Veranius gets back here you'll be right back where you started from. Maybe I'll let Flaccus give you the whipping he's thought you deserved since the death of Blasius. You know he's certain you were behind that. He didn't care for the man, but he objects strongly when other people try to 'discipline' his men."

She refused to answer him, so he continued on in an almost conversational tone, "You know I think he has a grudging respect for you. He admires the way you stand up against adversity. But he has one small problem with that. He's never failed to break anyone put into his charge. You're providing him with a challenge and, after this little episode, I might just let him loose to break you as he sees fit. Perhaps I'll give him permission to work on you in between your training sessions in the Coliseum gladiator pits."

Xena turned coldly disdainful eyes upon him, "Don't count on it," she told him shortly, "I don't break easily, and I don't intend to let you get another chance at it, either."

Caesar was warming to his task, "You still haven't told me what you intend to do when we see that Roman ship coming towards us, Xena," he prodded, still failing to get her to respond, "Way I see it is you got three choices, none of them good for you."

"Please go on," she said sarcastically, "enlighten me as to what you think my choices are!"

He looked up at her proud, beautiful profile and felt his blood quicken, even in the midst of a situation where she held his life in her hand he could not stem the passion he felt for her. The heady mix of battle, conflict and lust that existed between them always made their emotions run high, although both were good enough actors to hide such feelings from each other. But he knew that they were both aware of some connection between them. Whenever they were within the same room they felt a charge of power that seemed to shed sparks as they clashed.

"Well," she prompted, "what are the three choices you think I have?"

Caesar smiled to himself. She may be physically dominant but his realm and art was manipulation, and Xena could still be effected in that way, however much she thought she had protected herself against him, "Your first choice is that you surrender and take the punishments that you'll have coming to you," he told her dispassionately.

"Go on," she encouraged, ticking that choice off of her own mental tally.

"Your second choice, would be to kill me and risk what my soldiers do to you," he informed her showing no real concern at the prospect.

"Now that's a choice that I might easily be tempted to take," she purred almost warmly, again ticking it off from her own mental list.

"I wouldn't advise that route, Xena," he told her calmly, "Not only would you die, but your little friend and those others would die a long and painful death." He watched as a shadow flicked across her expression, before it was once more set in the expressionless mask, "Your third, and final choice, is to kill yourself. Admittedly by doing so, you'd free Verchinex from his obligation to me, but you would once again be signing the death warrants of your friends. And I assure you that irritating blonde bard of yours will be cursing your name to all of your gods on Olympus before she reaches the gates of Hades."

He almost flinched as she turned her cold, icy gaze on him and sank slowly to her knees in front of him, withdrawing the dagger from her belt as she did so, "Let me make something quite clear to you," she told him in a low menacing rumble all the more chilling because it wasn't much more than a whisper and he had to strain to listen to her, "Should anything, and I mean anything, of that sort happen to Gabrielle, not all the fiends in Tartarus could stop me coming back for you and I swear you'll curse the day that your mother and father stole their first kiss!"

Never taking her eyes from his, she slowly ran the stiletto down the side of his face, down his neck and chest towards his groin, where her muscles suddenly tensed and she stabbed down hard, hearing a satisfying, "THUNK!!!" as it bit into the decking between his legs.

His eyes had widened in fear and relief as he realised that he was still intact. The Warrior Princess smiled at him, a smile that was as cold as the frozen north, and as devoid of mirth as the fiery pits of Tartarus, "Believe me, Julius, you know that's not an idle boast. I will find a way back to pay that debt to you."

He swallowed hard, believing every word she had told him. He knew of her previous death and her miraculous return to life. If she could do it once, he'd be a fool to believe that she wouldn't be able to do it again ... or find some other way to extract her vengeance upon him.

Knowing that she'd got her message through to him, she pulled the knife from the planking and slipped it back through the belt, deliberately turning her back on him as she went back to scanning the horizon for any sign of the returning victors. She almost wished that he'd try something stupid so that she could take some of her frustrations out on him.

Caesar watched the ease with which she moved, the confidence with which she carried herself. From the first moment he'd met her he had recognised a will, a spirit that more than matched his own. She was the only one, man or woman, who had ever caused him to fear. Even as he'd been held captive by the woman, - No child! - he amended, - she could barely have been sixteen at the time, - he had recognised that here was someone with a destiny as strong as his own. He had tried to snuff it out, before it could grow to challenge him, but at every turn he'd been frustrated in his efforts.

Yet through all the years they had been apart, he had never forgotten her. She festered like a wound in his soul. She burned like a coal in his heart. She was the thorn he knew would forever be in his foot, and when she had turned up in Rome those moons ago, she had again proven her power to disrupt his plans. Therefore he had turned his attention, to finally eliminating her threat, whilst providing himself with a use, a reason to keep her alive, so that he could prove his mastery upon her .... - And still she refuses to submit! - he growled in angry silence to her back.

Slowly he edged himself to his feet contemplating his chances of being able to take her by surprise. Without turning she snarled, "Unless you've got a death wish you better sit down and keep out of my hair!"

- She's inhuman, - his brain screeched as he sank back down on the rough planking. The sun was burning his unprotected shoulders and torso as it reflected off the sparkling water. As he sat unmoving on the deck of their raft, he slowly succumbed to the lethargy induced by a hot sun and the lack of water to replace the fluids that were thirstily sucked away from his body. Xena was aware as his breathing slowly turned deep and regular.

She turned and looked at her prisoner, - Who's really the prisoner? - she thought moodily, - Him, just because I removed him from his power for a while? Or me, knowing that there's more than an even chance that I'll end up right back where I started! - She frowned at herself for entertaining such thoughts. - I have to believe that it will be the Carthaginians who win and will find us. I can see no other way out of the gods awful mess that we're in. -

Xena turned her attention back to scanning the seas for any sign of a ship returning to search for survivors in the area. She stood until the sun sank with gathering speed into the blue depths of the western horizon, leaving her alone with Caesar and the darkness. She sank to the deck of the raft, drew up her long legs, hugging them to her body with her arms and allowed her head to rest on her knees. She couldn't afford to sleep tonight. She had to be alert in case a ship should return, or in case Caesar tried to turn the tables on her.

She'd noted as the last light flickered away, that his right wrist had swollen around the break and that the manacle was cutting into his flesh. - Well I haven't got anything here to set it with, and I'll be damned if I would even if I had, - she told herself firmly. - After all he's done to me and promised to do to Gabrielle, I'd see him rot before I lifted one hand to help him. - She shivered as the night temperature began to drop, - He's right about my choices though, - she conceded, - If the Romans are the first to find us, none of them are good. For Gabrielle's sake I'll just have to surrender to him and take my chances. At least I'll have made the bastard suffer for a while! -

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The moon was high in the night sky, when she became aware that he was stealthily creeping towards her. She realised that she had drifted off into a light doze and the knowledge that, - I must have been more tired than I thought, - flashed through her brain before her head snapped up and blue eyes glared into brown, "Back off!" she snarled her hand flashing to the stiletto and presenting it ready for use, "Now!" she reiterated.

Ignoring the blade Caesar launched himself at her .. he was almost certain that she wouldn't kill him .. her care for friends would ensure his relative safety .. so he took the risk determined to reassert his mastery before his troops found them once more. He crashed into Xena's shoulder, knocking the dagger loose from her grip, and tumbled them over the edge of the raft into the placid waters of the sea. They thrashed around, the Roman's punches limited by his bonds and his broken wrist.

The warrior, after throwing off her initial surprise, struggled to contain her flailing adversary until her short temper snapped and she struck out with stiff fingers jabbing Caesar in the neck causing the fight to go out of him instantly. Grabbing an arm before he could sink, Xena hoisted the Roman back onto the raft, before pulling herself up to join him. Glaring at her personal nemesis, the Warrior Princess allowed the man to suffer the slow suffocation caused by blocking of the flow of blood to his brain, while she retrieved the knife and stuck it firmly back into her waistband.

Turning back to her suffering victim, the raven haired woman's hands shot out, once more, to release the 'pinch' as she snarled at him, "That was really dumb!"

Caesar grinned weakly at her, as he regained his breath and wiped away the trickle of blood that oozed from his left nostril, "Can't blame a man for trying," he retorted, as he retreated slowly to his end of the raft.

"Can't I!" she growled. "Try that again and I'll pin you to that stump with the dagger!" That she was deadly serious was communicated by the dangerous tenseness throughout her body. She watched carefully as Caesar settled down once more. Pinning him in place with her eyes, she stood and stretched the kinks out of her muscles, hiding the shivers that threatened to shake her now wet frame. She allowed a grim smile as she realised that her 'captive' was unable to hide his own reaction to the cold and wet, before she swept the night for signs of a ship.

She stood for some time looking into the blackness before her sharp eyes caught the vaguest flicker of a torch in the distance. As it slowly brightened she could pick out more as a line of ships were spread abreast and clearly searching for the survivors of the sea battle that had taken place.

It took a moment for Caesar to realise that she had spotted something, but as she darted quickly forward and pulled him roughly to his feet, he guessed that the victors were returning . The question was, though, who had won? He froze in place as he felt the chill of cold steel on his neck.

"I don't know which side won," she breathed in his ear, "But you're going to behave yourself, while I figure out what to do," she pressed the knife closer, nicking the skin of his neck so that he felt the hot trickle of blood on his flesh.

"Why don't you do yourself a favour, Xena?" he told her almost companionably, "Surrender to me now. Veranius will have won. Our fleet was far superior to theirs. You're in enough trouble now, without letting my men seeing you threatening me," he tried to sound sincere.

"Nice try, Julius. But it ain't over 'til it's over. Lets just see how the cards fall, huh?" she told him mockingly, knowing that if it was the Romans coming back, it didn't matter what the soldiers saw, because it was Caesar who pulled the strings, and it was Caesar who would, in that eventuality, decide her punishment.

It was impossible to tell which fleet the ships belonged to as they came closer. The night managed to hide any tell-tale markings and the moon wasn't bright enough to help. All they could do was wait until the ships were upon them. Yet, as the big vessels moved closer, Xena felt her heart sinking. Closing down upon the raft, her sharp ears detected Roman voices and her eyes soon picked out the familiar faces from the elite maniple. Her gamble had failed. The Romans had won, beating the Carthaginians and dashing her slender hopes of escape and, ultimately, rescue for her friends.

"Give it up, Xena," Caesar told her quietly as he recognised the ship, "You've lost this one."

An instantly familiar voice hailed them from above, "Stand away from the General, slave!" No threats, no bluster, just a straight order.

Having already made up her mind what she'd do in this situation, never really having another practical choice, she removed the knife from Caesar's neck and stepped back, maintaining a stoic mask even as Caesar turned around and challenged her with that infuriatingly smug, arrogant, smirk that only he could managed to contrive.

"Drop the weapons, Xena," he told her, once more master of the situation.

She almost gave in to the urge to gut him like the pig he was. Almost! But the memory of her bard stayed her hand. The knowledge that such an action would condemn Gabrielle, Joxer and Autolycus to lingering deaths, held her tightly, and she could not give into her own desires.

"The weapons, Xena!" Caesar commanded more forcefully.

She looked him in the eyes and her hand moved faster than sight could follow as she threw the stiletto directly at her captor, to land with shuddering vibrations in the wood between his feet. He held up his hand, to stay any reaction from Flaccus and his men. He, Caesar, had control here and he would force his slave, through the strength of his will, to submit to his orders, "The sword," he told her.

Slowly, she unbuckled the belt and allowed it to fall by her feet, the chain to her collar uncoiling to hang down to the deck, "Put your hands on your head and kneel over by the mast," he instructed.

Breathing heavily at the mortifying frustration of the situation, Xena knew she had little option but to comply. Moving slowly and deliberately, she raised her hands and locked them together behind her head, before shuffling to where she had been directed to wait. Within moments four soldiers had climbed down to the raft. One had a pair of short linked irons that he used to manacle Xena's hands behind her back, before dragging her roughly to her feet once more.

In the time it had taken for that to be accomplished, a boson’s chair had been swung over the side and was in the process of lifting Caesar back onto Veranius' ship. The Warrior Princess watched with no emotion as the chair was dropped back over and she was forced into the seat and strapped in. It took mere seconds for her to be hoisted back to the deck of the ship she had escaped from, and a hostile Flaccus stood ready to take charge of her once more. She noted that Caesar had been hurried below, Patroclese probably dancing attendance to minister to his master's wounds. She waited to see what they intended to do with her. She had little doubt that it would be both painful and uncomfortable.

When the four soldiers climbed back aboard with their commander's armour and weapons, Flaccus turned his attention to her. He signalled a man behind her who stepped forward and secured a rope around her ankles, "Take her up!" he ordered, and a dozen men leapt to pull on the other end of the rope, jerking Xena off her feet and sending her crashing to the deck, with no way to lessen the impact of the fall with her hands shackled behind her back. Her head hit the timbers heavily and she blacked out while she was hauled up on the yardarm, to hang by her feet.

"I want ten guards watching her tonight. Tomorrow we'll see what the General wants done with her," Flaccus barked.