The bard stepped off the pier right into the town. Houses stood at the water's edge, windowsills bright with flowerpots. The streets were a veritable maze, designed to confuse pirates, and Gabrielle was quickly lost. This did not bother her. She knew Xena would find her eventually. Children waved to her from shaded terraces, while a cat slept, unconcerned, on a sheltered stair.
Craning her head to see everything, Gabrielle forgot to look where she was going. She bumped into a squawking, clacking object that turned out to be a pelican. After a moment it perched nearby and gave the bard a plaintive stare. Gabrielle spotted a street vendor and bought some cooked fish from him. "Here you go, bird,"she said, offering it the fish by way of making amends.
This turned out to be a mistake. The pelican began to follow Gabrielle, clapping its beak to beg for more fish. She rounded on the bird, hands on her hips.
"Aren't you supposed to be diving in the sea to get a square meal?" she complained. The pelican flicked a few salty drops from its bill and fluttered its throat pouch at her. "Look, I'm sorry I ran into you, but I can't be feeding you all the time!" She shrugged, and with a flounce of her short brown skirt, turned and continued up a winding street. The bird followed. Gabrielle looked back, saw the pelican and rolled her eyes. Deciding she would not let the bird bother her, she walked on.
Eventually, a dog emerged from one of the houses she passed and began to bark at the pelican. The pelican clapped its beak, and the dog ran at the bird, which noisily took to the air. Gabrielle seized the opportunity to duck into a tavern, where she ordered a cider and sat to listen to the tales of a bard holding forth at one end of the main room. The woman was fair and trim, and had a staff propped against the wall behind her.
"...Velasca stood over me, and death was in her eyes. I had nothing to lose, so I spat in her face and waited for her to kill me. That was when Callisto jumped her from the rear, trying to get at the ambrosia Xena had promised her. While they were catfighting, I got up and ran my Amazon buns to the other side of the bridge. Velasca and Callisto were pulling at each other's hair and screaming to wake the dead, muscles standing out on their firm young bodies." Some of her male listeners had dreamy looks on their faces.
"Finally Callisto got her hands on the pouch of ambrosia," the storyteller continued, "and with Velasca trying to kick her off the bridge, she put the ambrosia into her mouth. The lightning flashed again, and that loud peal of thunder announced that Callisto was now a god. She staggered Velasca with a fireball.
"While all that was going on, Xena and I were sawing the ropes that held the bridge -"
Gabrielle was on her feet. "Wait a second, that's not how it happened! You weren't there! You're no Amazon, either."
An angry buzz arose from the patrons, directed not at the storyteller but at Gabrielle.
"Who do you think you are?" one man shouted. "That's Gabrielle of Poteidaia you're interrupting there! Pipe down and get out, you little wannabe wench."
"If she's Gabrielle," the true Gabrielle asserted, "then I'm Xena."
A man grabbed for her, but with one swift motion she dexterously applied her staff in the confined space and knocked him back into his seat. This stopped several other men from advancing on her. They grew uncertain.
"Come on, 'Gabrielle,'" the bard invited. "Are you any good with that thing?"
The impostor picked up her staff and twirled it awkwardly. Gabrielle walked up to her and plucked it out of her hands. The storyteller turned white. "Y-you... you're th-the real... the real... G-ga-ga..." she stuttered, choking on the name.
"Gabrielle," the bard finished for her. "If you're going to pretend to be me and tell my stories, you could at least get them right."
More angry shouts came from the listeners, partly because the story had been interrupted, and partly because the fraud had been exposed. A few drunks were shouting at anything.
"All right, all right, here's how it really went. You -" she pointed to the other woman "- sit right here." Gabrielle sat on the stool the storyteller had used, put both staves aside, took a scroll from her shoulder bag and unrolled it. "You're lucky I brought this one with me. It all started when Autolycus and I brought Xena back to life with the ambrosia..."
Xena came in while Gabrielle narrated the tale and quietly ordered some red wine. Her appearance settled the matter for the remaining few who still doubted Gabrielle's identity. The pelican waddled in on webbed feet behind the Warrior Princess.
When the bard was done, the young woman who had been impersonating her shook her hand and, it seemed, would not let go. Gabrielle pulled away with an ungentle jerk. "What is it with you?" she asked.
"I just wanted to say that your story was so wonderful!"
"So why were you trying to tell it?"
"People wouldn't listen to my stories - they're not very good - and I couldn't afford to buy scrolls to read them. I had to work from memory and... you know. But I figured if I pretended to be you, I could make enough money and maybe I could get some scrolls... and if the stories didn't come out so well, your name would cover it up."
"If you could come up with that idea and make people think you were me, even if they're drunk at the time, you probably could learn to write good stories," Gabrielle replied. "Have you earned enough dinars to make a start?"
The girl hung her head. "I guess so."
"Then tell us one of your stories," the bard encouraged. "What's your name?"
"Leontissa," she answered.
"All right, listen up," Gabrielle announced. "Leontissa here is going to tell one of her own stories, and I want you to pay attention!"
There was some grumbling at that, stifled by Xena when she gave the louder offenders "the look." Gabrielle relinquished the stool to Leontissa, who began slowly:
"You've seen for yourselves what happens when someone pretends to be someone she isn't. And of course you heard me tell about my - I mean, Gabrielle's friend Joxer and how he pretends to be mighty but is not. No harm done, but it's so easy to get into trouble. Take this fellow, for instance.
"Demarios was a man who liked to be anyone but himself. In the farther corners of Attica he liked to be 'Dorion,' an archon of the city. In Corinth he was 'Zacharaus,' a trader in precious goods from the east, and so on.
"One day he had to flee from Argos because he had posed as a priest of Hera but was quickly discovered. He signed aboard a ship full of colonists as 'Xuthes the healer,' though Demarios knew nothing of the craft. It was the second day out, and while he was standing at the rail watching some dolphins play, a man ran up to him.
"'Xuthes,' he said, 'there is a boy with a terrible pain in his belly. We gave him the stomachache powder, but he is the same, and a fever has developed. You must help him.'
"Demarios was scared. He could not refuse without blowing his cover, and if the boy died Demarios might be thrown overboard in punishment. Reluctantly, he followed the man and saw that the boy was in great distress.
"'Fetch me my bags and a brazier,' Demarios ordered, 'and clear this cabin.'
"'We must stay with him,' his mother pleaded.
"'No, you do not want to watch,' he denied. When he was alone with the sick boy, he barred the door to the cabin.
"'By the gods, I simply do not know what to do!' he whispered in despair. In his gear, however, were herbs, medical instruments and a couple of scrolls by Hippocrates that he had bought to complete his disguise. He unrolled one of the scrolls, praying to every god he could think of, and there it was, a passage describing the same symptoms the boy showed.
"However, healing him was another matter. He would have to cut the boy open, taking care not to nick the stomach or intestines, and remove a swollen and infected organ. Even Hippocrates did not know its purpose, but said it could be removed safely if the place where it had been was seared with a hot iron.
"'The boy is as good as dead,' Demarios said to himself, 'but then again so am I.'" With nothing to lose, he prepared everything and made the first cut. Mercifully, the boy was unconscious. The blood frightened and sickened Demarios, but he applied sponges and went on. He found the infected part and cut it out, then took a knife that he had put in the brazier and sealed the cut. He also sealed a few small blood vessels he had damaged when he opened the boy. Clumsily he washed it with water and wine, then sewed up the open wound he had made.
"Demarios collapsed to the deck, exhausted and frightened. Many minutes passed before a pounding on the door woke him. The boy was stirring also, and Demarios managed to get a sip of water with a little aconite in him. Then he opened the door, and the boy's parents rushed in. They wanted to know if the boy would live, but Demarios shrugged and said it was in the hands of Asclepius. 'Do not move him yet,' he advised.
"That night the boy's fever broke. Several days later, the ship landed, and Demarios slipped away from the colony, grateful for his escape."
The applause was light, several people having turned green from the description of the operation, but sincere.
"It needs work," Gabrielle told her, "but you're on the right track." She handed Leontissa several dinars. "Buy yourself some scrolls, but don't just copy them. Use them as ideas to create your own style." She got up then, and walked over to the bar where her friend waited. "C'mon, Xena, let's blow this joint. And ditch the pelican."
Xena laughed, and the two left the tavern.
"Shoo, will you?" Gabrielle said to the big white bird. She gestured with both hands in a shoving motion, but the pelican declined to be shooed off. It had followed her unerringly through the tangled streets. Xena unlimbered her chakram.
"No, not that way," the bard protested. "It would be all my fault."
"It already is your own fault. You shouldn't have fed it."
"How was I supposed to know?"
"Pelicans come to Poteidaia, don't they?"
"Yes, but I never fed one before."
"Well, they can't be all bad. They like fish."
Gabrielle slapped Xena's shoulder, but not hard. "You are impossible."
"Yes, I am," the Warrior Princess agreed. "Say, this island is supposed to be known for its night life. Why don't you have some fun? Put on that little black dress Salmoneus gave you and find a place where you can dance."
"Who's going to ask me to dance with that bird following me around?"
"The same kind who ask me to dance with you following me around."
"Xena..."
"It was a joke! Here, let me take care of your problem." Xena gave the pelican "the look," and the bird flew off.
"How do you do that?" Gabrielle wondered, full of chagrin.
"Cyane taught me. One of these days I'll have to teach you."
They found a little place where the lamb stew smelled good. It was enough to please Gabrielle despite having to deal with the inevitable gropers. A few raps on knuckles with her staff took care of those.
"If you didn't insist on a bare midriff..." Xena suggested.
"That's Amazon style."
"With that top of yours, I'm surprised the Amazon Fashion Police haven't busted you."
"Are you making fun of my favorite shirt again?" the bard complained. Then a wicked gleam entered her eyes. "Besides, I can see almost all the way up your legs!"
"I need freedom of movement."
"Excuses, excuses," Gabrielle laughed.
Another goblet of wine for each, then they headed back to the 'Cradle of Hermes' so Gabrielle could wash up and change her clothes. The dress had wrinkled, being silk, but Xena knew a little trick with a teapot and some steam, and Gabrielle was quickly presentable. Eschewing her boots for a pair of high-laced sandals, Gabrielle completed the ensemble with the necklace Joxer had given her a couple of years ago.
"I don't often get a chance to wear it," she explained. "I'll say one thing about Joxer. He knows pretty when he sees it."
"Oh? He thinks glass beads are pretty, too," Xena quipped.
Gabrielle frowned at her friend. "Okay, they are, and they're not common outside of Egypt," the Warrior Princess conceded. "He did pick out a valuable necklace. He wanted something nice for the woman he loves."
"This is strange, Xena, but sometimes I wonder if I'm good enough for him."
"Of course you are. You used to be mean to him, but not any more. You were jealous of him, too."
"What? Jealous of Joxer?"
"Sure. Every time I treated him seriously, you got upset. Maybe you thought I wasn't treating you seriously."
Gabrielle considered this. "I think you're right. Then when he started to treat me the same way..."
"That's when the problem disappeared. He showed his respect for you - he's respected you for a long time, you know, but his ego hid it - and you responded in kind."
The bard hugged her most beloved friend. "How come I'm the girl with the words but you always find the right thing to say?"
"With you for my inspiration, it's easy."
Gabrielle smiled and splashed a little perfume on herself. Xena immediately recognized the scent and wrinkled her nose.
"Gabrielle No. 5. The dress doesn't make you irresistible enough?"
"It doesn't have a bare midriff," the bard joked. "Why aren't you changing, Xena?"
"Because I don't intend to tease every male in the vicinity, Gabrielle. You watch out, or Aphrodite will do something to you."
They both laughed. Xena finally consented to having Gabrielle brush her raven tresses until they were glossy, and removed the sword strapped to her back.
Joxer wasn't much in the mood for eating at the first halt. The dust tended to get into everything, and made him itch. He settled for washing his face in the river and drinking his fill of the cool, clear water. Bromos would follow the Peneus between Mounts Olympus and Ossa until he reached the coast, then turn north, passing into Macedon before reaching Chalcidice, eventually taking the east road to Olynthus instead of the south road to Poteidaia. The water route via the mouth of the Peneus to Poteidaia and Olynthus was safer, but Bromos said, loudly and repeatedly, that he had no luck with Poseidon and so preferred to travel by land.
Like Gabby, Joxer thought. I wonder what the queen is doing tonight. That's weird. I usually don't think of Gabrielle as a queen, but she is, and not just of my heart.
Bromos was concerned about bandits. The new king of Macedon, Paramander, had only recently come of age, and his regents had been too busy jockeying for political power to run the country well. Fortunately for Paramander, they had also been too busy to murder him. He had some of the more flagrant and incompetent patronage seekers executed for their misdeeds, and settled into the more mundane task of suppressing the bandits who had taken advantage of the confused situation to prey on villages and travelers. Unlike the courtiers, their damage was more direct, though no less devastating.
The dirty work was rotated in this caravan, so Joxer was next assigned to walk alongside one of the carts in the middle of the group. This meant occasionally having to lend his back to pushing the cart out of a deep rut in the road, but the hardest part was making the crossing of one of the tributaries. Here teams of men helped steady carts and oxen as they forded the stream so they would be on the north side of the Peneus the rest of the way to the coast. Even Bromos lent a hand. Joxer was soaked to the skin, chilled by the river and nearly exhausted when it was over, but after only a brief halt to dry off and catch a hasty bite to eat the group set out again.
"Ho, you louts!" Bromos cried as if the hard work they had all done was the simplest matter of routine. "No dawdling, there! We want to see the coast before dark." This was no leisurely walk, especially with oxen, and the ground kept getting softer as they continued downstream. The bulk of Mount Olympus towered over them on the left side.
"Is Bromos related to Talos, you think?" Joxer asked the teamster after pushing the cart out of a small mudhole.
"The man of bronze? Naw, they's a firmer track up ahead," the man replied. "These carts is loaded proper, and not just 'cause Bromos yells at us to do it right. Knows his business, he does, and never overloads. We'll make good time."
The teamster had taken this route before, so he knew what he was talking about. Soon, the going did get easier. Joxer wanted to fling himself on the ground and get some sleep, but was content to softly whistle 'Joxer the Mighty' to himself. It was still off-key, which bothered him, because he had no such trouble when he played the lute, but at least it took his mind off how tired he was.
Everyone trudged on, and the sun sank below the Olympian foothills. Just when Joxer thought he could not take another step and was considering begging the driver to let him ride, Bromos's bombast be damned, a shout arose from the head of the column.
"The sea! We've come to the sea!" The coastline was now indeed in sight, though still at some distance.
"Good enough for me!" Bromos cried. "Find a spot and we'll camp."
There was a village nearby, which took care of the problem of perishables. The night promised to be safe, what with a tower visible in the distance. They had passed another tower standing in the foothills. It had not been so long since the Thessalians had been at war, though the land had been quiet since the Persians had been driven out and the Romans cut each other to pieces. The towers were manned, and warlords shunned the river valley for easier pickings.
Joxer now discovered more muscles he could strain to the utmost, as he was set to helping the teamsters unyoke the oxen, while others built fires and cooked the evening meal. A swim in the river, which the men did in turns, did wonders for his aching body, and whetted his appetite besides. Plain fare it was, barley mash with a little pork in it, bread, cheese, olives and some dried fruit, but substantial enough. He washed it down with a good portion of well-mixed wine. Bromos was as careful of his men as of his goods.
The would-be warrior stretched out, watching the stars appear in the gathering dark. When this journey of mine is over, he wished on the first one, let Gabby be there waiting for me. Joxer was suddenly reminded of the heavy load on his soul. He shrugged. Heck, I'd carry Gabby's sins and Gabby, too, if I had to. That gave him another thought, and he got up, took the lute from his gear, and started to play.
Some of the other men gathered around him as he launched into the song he had composed in Pyrgos about Gabrielle and Xena. Though Joxer was not much of a singer, he could carry a tune, and soon several men picked it up. Bromos sat down by the fire and listened, too.
"Hey, not a bad one, boy!" Bromos exclaimed when Joxer finished. "Tell me, d'ya know some drinking songs? I mind there was one about old Anacreon in Olympus."
"Isn't he still alive?" Joxer asked.
"Sure. The gods like good poets. Like Aphrodite and Sappho. Don't interrupt, boy." With that, Bromos launched into a high-pitched song only a drunken tenor could sing properly, especially the highest notes. He wasn't drunk, but he was well lubricated, and made a passable attempt as Joxer played for him. A few more songs satisfied Bromos and put smiles on the faces of Joxer's companions. It boded well for the trip.
Not too long after Bromos drifted off again, Joxer offered his regrets and packed it in. Despite his sore muscles, Joxer was asleep in minutes.
Gabrielle knew when she paid the street guide that he would direct her to an establishment that had hired him. However, it worked for her; he took the companions to the sign of the "Dancing Queen." This was a popular nightspot, judging from the line outside the door. Apparently the owner had a particular idea of who "beautiful people" were, as the majordomo denied several people access. The rejected ones found solace in other nearby taverns.
When Gabrielle and Xena reached the head of the line, the majordomo wetted a forefinger, stopped just short of touching the bard and made a sizzling sound as of water on a hot griddle. "Oh, mama," he crooned. "Both of you, definitely." He waved them inside.
Through a peculiar arrangement of mirrors, the huge dance floor was well lit, but the tables and booths around it were bathed only in fitful dimness. A man in a lizard-skin vest lounging by the door approached the bard. "How about a dance, honey-hair?" he invited.
To Xena's open surprise, Gabrielle accepted. Spurning his obvious passes, she allowed him to place a hand on her waist, and they began to circle around in an intricate pairing. Despite his apparent poise, his leading was clumsy, and it took Gabrielle a few moments to realize he was attempting the Corinthian Swing. After that, it was a simple matter of steering him into underarm turns, brief cuddles, sways and hops. He had not expected an experienced dancer, and the bard quickly exhausted him.
Knowing that she would have shipboard tasks the next day, Xena was content to let Gabrielle shine. The Warrior Princess wanted to avoid the strenuous acrobatic competition she had once put herself through. Skipping this dance, she stepped up to the bar and ordered red wine for herself and retsina for her partner.
"Can a fella buy a big, strong girl like you a drink?" the man next to her asked.
The Warrior Princess took a cautious sniff and concluded that this man was not three, but at least six sheets to the wind. She ignored him, and a few seconds later a soft thump signaled that he had passed his limit, and out.
Gabrielle took his place, positively glowing both from the exertion and from pleasure. Accepting the retsina with a nod of thanks, she said, "You should get out there too, Xena. Feel the beat of the tambourine. This place is hot!"
"I will, Gabrielle. The wine is good enough for me right now."
Neither one of them noticed a certain pelican sneak in behind a gaudily dressed dandy and his companion for the evening.
Exhausted as he had been, Joxer sat bolt upright, completely awake, shouting, "GABBY!" Other men woke also, mainly grumbling at their companion for disturbing their sleep. One of the duty guards ran to him in case there was trouble.
"Are you all right?" he asked Joxer. "Did you hear something in the night?"
"No, it was my girlfr- something was bothering a friend of mine. I must have dreamed it. Sorry."
"Hey, you're shaking all over. You didn't have a vision that she was hurt or something?"
"Nothing that bad. Just nerves, I guess."
The man relaxed. "I've got something for that. We brewed up some herb tea at one of the fires. Let me get you a cup, and maybe you can sleep better."
"Thanks," Joxer said, and fought down the jangling sensations that tugged at his body. Whatever it was, it must have something to do with both Gabrielle and me, he decided. Holy Artemis, let Xena be there to help her. Please help her if you can, too. Thanks.
The guard returned with the tea, and he chatted pleasantly with Joxer for a few minutes. Finally satisfied that there was nothing wrong with the would-be warrior, the guard gave him a friendly clap on the back and resumed his rounds.
However, though the tea helped calm Joxer, he was unable to go back to sleep, and tossed uncomfortably in his bedroll. He did manage to keep quiet. Still, he was not going to get much rest tonight. Joxer had drawn the midnight watch, the most difficult as it broke up sleep into two inadequate periods. He was used to it from traveling with Xena, though the Warrior Princess often took that time herself as a gesture of friendship. She also did it when she suspected that Joxer would stay awake the rest of the night and not wake Gabrielle before dawn. It was a game of wits he played with Xena, one that he occasionally won, judging by the grumbling and grousing she gave him; Xena was not a gracious loser.
The time came to change the watch. Joxer got up with creaking joints and went on duty.
Long hair whipping around them, Gabrielle and Xena spun energetically with their partners around the floor. An older man was dancing with the bard now; he had some skill with pivoting feet and hip action. Signaling to Gabrielle that she should drop down, he kicked a leg over her, pulled her forward through straddling legs and brought her back up with a half turn and a jump.
Xena's partner flung himself to the ground; she cartwheeled over him just before he used strong arms to push his body back upright. Each switched partners, linking arms and swinging over in an intricate pattern that ended with the four in their original pairings.
Gabrielle was turned around, now facing her partner with crossed hands, now back to back with him, then both executing three-step turns and facing each other again. The other couple mirrored their action. Lesser dancers cleared the floor to watch as the pairs turned under each other's arms, froze for a beat, moved side by side and suddenly reversed the direction of their movements.
The music went into a triumphant crescendo. Gabrielle's hair was wildly disordered, and her breath came in labored pants. The older man was red-faced and fading fast. Xena was not immune to the effects of her exertions, and was dancing in armor besides. Her partner, sweat coming out of every pore, was still game enough to lift her, but only managed a few inches off the ground before setting her down again. Gabrielle lifted an eyebrow at the man she danced with, but he shook his head. Then he had an idea. Spinning the bard into Xena's partner, the latter used her momentum to lightly toss her into the air, where Xena caught her, held her horizontally above her head while she turned full circle, then set her on the floor and slid her, spinning again, back to the other man. The song ended amid deafening applause.
Gabrielle's partner politely escorted her back to her seat, then leaned on the table and gasped for a few seconds. The bard snagged a passing waitress and ordered two retsinas, the man accepting his gratefully.
"Thanks," he said when he had recovered his breath. "You and your friend there are the best dancers I've ever seen. Who's your teacher, the Widow Twanky?"
"We've had a few lessons with her," Gabrielle replied.
"It shows. You wouldn't happen to be looking for a regular partner, would you?"
"No, but thank you for asking. You're not bad yourself." She smiled at him, a sincere smile that told him she wasn't blowing him off.
He nodded. "This may kill me, but I'm going to ask your friend for the next dance."
"Good luck," Gabrielle said. As Xena moved off with him in acceptance of the invitation, the bard unclasped her necklace, which had snagged on her strawberry blonde locks in the course of the previous dance. The second she had freed it from her hair, there was a sudden movement from underneath the table and the necklace was snatched from her hands. The pelican, seeing the flash of light from the stones, had mistaken it for a fish and grabbed what the bird considered an offering.
"Hey, you, come back with that!" Gabrielle did her best to chase the pelican, but she kept banging into couples the bird deftly avoided. Gaining a window, the last Gabrielle saw of bird and necklace was a gleam of moonlight on white wings. Even that disappeared before Xena could arrive, chakram in hand.
Gabrielle sank into a seat, terribly saddened and upset. Xena put an arm around her, but the bard was inconsolable.
"It's gone, Xena. The necklace Joxer gave me. He sold his father's scabbard to get it. It's about the only valuable thing he ever owned and he gave it up for me - and now the necklace is gone."
"Pull yourself together, Gabrielle. It was precious, sure, but it's just a necklace. Do you think Joxer will think any less of you because it was stolen? How many times could you have sold it and given the money to a hospice or an orphanage, huh? I know you've considered it. Joxer's your friend. He'll understand."
"I know, but his friendship means so much to m- to us, Xena. I can't help being upset. Maybe we should go back to the ship."
They did, making a thorough but futile search on the way. After Gabrielle was coaxed into her pink nightgown, Xena slipped a sleeping draught in her herb tea. The Warrior Princess tucked her most beloved friend into her hammock and planted a kiss on the velvet skin of her cheek. Sleep well, Gabrielle. We'll work this out.