CHAPTER 6

"You'll never guess who I met at the scroll market today," Gabrielle said.

Ares eyed her absent-mindedly, taking a sip of wine. They actually served decent wine here at the inn -- well, half-decent. Or maybe he was just in a good mood.

For a moment, in that field on the way to the city, he had really thought that it was over, that Xena was about to tell him to stay in Megara. Now, a day later, he had it all figured out. Gabrielle must have told Xena to dump him; Xena had refused, Blondie had started bitching about how he wasn't paying his way, and to appease her, Xena had agreed to ask him to sell his jewelry. It was so obvious that Xena didn't want to say it; of course it was the blonde's idea. Baiting him with that damn poem, telling him to sell his things ... all part of the same tactic: rub it in his face that he had gone from god to nobody. Clever girl.

He had been tense for the rest of the day after they'd arrived in Megara -- anxious, perplexed, annoyed, even after his anger had mellowed. He and Xena hadn't spoken much, despite some reassuring tender looks from her, and he had been wondering if she'd come to him that night.

Xena kept him waiting for a while; long enough for him to start wondering once again if it was worth it, this half-life with her, this humiliation of having to wait for her favors. He promptly forgot all about it when she showed up. She was still wearing her tunic when she straddled him, and Ares ripped it off her, lifting up his head to press his face between her breasts, reaching down to stroke her. Every sound she made, every incoherent word she breathed sent a jolt of heat through him, but somehow he managed to stay in control, even when she shook and arched on top of him; he held her for a few moments, forcing himself to stay still, and then rolled her over, drawing those intoxicating sounds from her again, kissing her neck as she drew up her knees to let him in deeper, so deep that there may have been a hint of pain in her cries. Finally she bit into his shoulder to muffle her scream, and this time her spasms took him with her. Afterwards, they exchanged quick breathless kisses, pressing still-hungry lips to each other's faces and necks; and then there was more, and when she left him at dawn he was exhausted and happy and completely in love.

Now, sitting in the tavern at the inn, Ares felt his arousal stir again at the memory. Slipping his fingers under his vest, he touched the still-tender mark Xena had left on his shoulder; too bad the purplish bruise was hidden from view, or the little bard would have been in for quite a shock. He watched Xena finish the last of her stuffed grape leaves and run her tongue over her lips, and his fist clenched as he imagined licking her fingers and stroking her thigh under her leather skirt. If only they had been alone at the table...

But there was no point in dwelling on the negatives. Things were going well; right now, it looked like he had a pretty good chance of winning Aphrodite's bet for her. Sure, it was still annoying to think that his ditzy sister and her namby-pamby kid were treating his unusual predicament as a horse race for their entertainment, but it didn't rankle nearly as much as before. It was the kind of thing you'd expect from Sis. She could have done something much worse just for fun: for instance, cast a love spell to make him enamored of the blonde, and then, if Xena didn't chakram his brains out, he'd die of embarrassment once he recovered his wits.

"I give up," Xena said with an indulgent smile. "Who did you meet?"

"Virgil. Can you believe it? It turns out he's here in Megara."

"Really."

"Yeah." Gabrielle took a grape leaf from her plate. "He's going with me to the poetry reading."

Oh yeah -- another reason to be in a good mood. Gabrielle was going out after dinner for a reading by some poet at the city library, and he and Xena would have the whole evening to themselves.

"Really," Xena said again. Her look of polite indifference was a little too blank, and Ares wondered if there was something going on that he didn't know about.

"Yeah. And you know something else?" Gabrielle's hand with the grape leaf remained suspended halfway to her mouth. "Virgil has just published his own poem. He was at the scroll market delivering some copies to a vendor. A long, epic poem."

"Did he say anything about how Meg was doing?"

"Yeah ... she's coping. She's opened a new tavern in Athens." She finally put the grape leaf in her mouth and continued, even before she'd swallowed it completely, "The kids are in school... Anyway, Virgil's poem -- it's beautiful." Gabrielle beamed. "I always knew he'd become a real bard, and let me tell you..."

She continued to carry on about Virgil and his poem, and Ares realized one more thing that irritated him about the blonde. Unless she was in a very rotten mood, she yapped like this at every damn meal, only occasionally pausing to eat, and when he was already done with his food and usually still hungry, he had to sit there staring at all the stuff on her plate.

Xena reached over, picked up a grape leaf from Gabrielle's plate and casually stuffed it in her mouth. He wasn't sure why that irked him even more.

He took another sip of wine, put down his goblet with a clank and cut her off in mid-sentence.

"Jerkster's son can write. Who would've guessed."

Gabrielle turned to him abruptly.

"Don't," she said in a choked voice. "Don't you dare talk about Joxer like that."

"Well, excuse me! Somehow, I never noticed that you were so fond of the guy."

Her eyes narrowed to sharp angry slits.

"I may not have always treated Joxer right. And he may not have been much of a warrior. But he was my friend and he was a good man. He was kind and brave and caring and" ‑- her voice trembled, breaking for a moment as her eyelids drooped -- "loyal."

"Wonderful. You should have married him."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the quick look Xena darted toward him. Damn. That was not a smart thing to say.

"Maybe I should have!"

Gabrielle didn't actually scream, but her words seemed to shatter the tavern's stale murky air and then to linger for a few moments, like a cloud of smoke from an explosion. She looked terrified. Xena's face changed only for an instant; her hand, which had been creeping toward Gabrielle's, froze and then closed a little jerkily around the stem of her goblet. They sat very still, all three, as if trapped with a dangerous beast that could be provoked by a single word or movement. Rescue came in the form of a serving girl who came by and inquired if they wanted sweets, in a tone implying that it would be an insult if they didn't and a hassle if they did.

Somehow, they got through the rest of the meal, barely speaking. Ares wanted to kick himself, and half expected Xena to do it for him. Finally, Gabrielle got up and said, "I have to go."

Xena looked up. "Want me to come with you?"

"Oh, come on, Xena," Gabrielle said with a mirthless little snort. "You don't have to. I know it's not your kind of thing at all. I'm going to change and then I'm leaving."

"Change?" Xena's eyebrow twitched up.

"Yeah, I'm wearing a dress. You know, the blue one. Xena, it's a poetry reading, not a wrestling match."

"All right." Xena drew an arm around her waist, reached up and kissed her cheek. "Have fun."

After Gabrielle had walked away, Ares sat staring into his almost-empty goblet, ridiculously afraid to look at Xena.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She sounded almost stunned, not angry as he expected -- and when he looked up at her, her face was shadowed with fear.

"You're trying to drive us apart, aren't you," she said.

"That's crazy." He caught himself before he could say, She's the one who's trying to drive me away -- sounding like a whiny little boy.

"Well, don't even think about it."

Ares said nothing. She gazed past him, her blue eyes gold-flecked in the reflected light of an oil lamp. Then she spoke again, as if to herself.

"This is wrong..."

Dammit, don't beg. Maybe it was better to end this at once: A quick stab to the heart, instead of dying piece by piece and always hoping for a reprieve.

"I could leave," he said. It didn't come out as firmly as he had wanted, but it would have to do.

Xena's upper lip quivered slightly in response.

He wasn't going to make it that easy for her.

"I'll -- " He choked on his words and paused to swallow, a heavy bitterness filling his mouth. "I'll always love you. But I could leave."

Time stopped, or maybe only his breath did. Finally, she gave a small, almost imperceptible headshake and moved her hand closer to his. Their fingertips touched, and he breathed again. They sat still for a while; then Ares stroked the back of her hand with his fingers, and after a moment she turned her hand, ran her thumb across his palm very gently, and curled it around his thumb.

The heat in his body was spreading again; he moved closer to Xena and brushed his lips against her hair, closing his eyes, savoring the faint herbal scent.

"Not now," she said softly.

Someday this woman would drive him insane.

"There must be some other way to have fun in this town," Ares said. "Want to catch the bull-dancing show at Demeter's temple?"

"Sure. You haven't lived until you've seen half-naked girls leaping over a bull's horns." Xena chuckled, but her eyes were grave. After a pause, she said, "Maybe I should go to the library and join up with Gabrielle and Virgil..."

He stared incredulously. So much for an evening together.

"Why?"

"It's been such a long time since I've seen Virgil." She turned away. "I should go have a chat with him."

Then it hit him: By Tartarus, she was jealous. Was there something -- ? As he recalled, this Virgil was a pretty good-looking guy, though he had only seen him once, right after Joxer died at Livia's hands -- and Ares' memories of that time, the last days of his life as a god, were something of a blur, vague shapes floating in a fog of rage and love and fear. Was Xena worried that Blondie might run off with Virgil? As his sister would have put it -- as if.

"I don't think there's any point in my tagging along. Guess I'll just stay here and ‑- catch up on sleep." He gave Xena a crooked little grin.

She stared at him for a moment, or maybe past him, and then smiled faintly.

"I have a better plan."

He frowned. "I thought you were -- "

"I'm not. That was a bad idea." Xena pushed the chair aside. "Stay here -- I'll be right back."

Not sure what to make of this, Ares watched her disappear. He rose from the table and walked over to the bar, leaning on it. He briefly considered getting another cup of wine but decided against it.

"You lucky son of a bitch."

He flinched and turned to see a scraggly-bearded, pink-faced man seated at the bar, leering at him.

"What?"

"You're doing them both, aren't you." The man winked. "The little blonde and the one with the -- "

Before the man could complete the description, Ares' hand was at his throat, clamped down on his collar. His fist was itching to connect with the idiot's suddenly not-so-pink face, but he was stopped by the thought that Xena might come back to see him fighting, and find out why.

"Watch what you say," he growled.

"Hey!" the barkeep called out. "Is there a problem?"

"Is there?" Ares gave the man's collar a discreet but meaningful jerk.

"Uh... no!" the offender squeaked, making a valiant attempt to shake his head. "No problem at all. I'm -- I'm sorry, okay?"

Ares snorted and let go of his shirt, shoving him back a little to reinforce his point. The man gulped for air.

"Sorry," he mumbled again, rubbing his neck. "I just, you know -- saw that you're traveling in the company of two beautiful women, so I -- "

"Stuff it," Ares grunted.

"So who's the blonde?" the man inquired hopefully.

"She's -- " He had no idea what to say; no one had ever questioned him about their arrangement before. "She's ... my wife's friend." He hadn't meant to elevate himself to the rank of Xena's husband, either -- in fact, even thinking the words "Xena's husband" felt as startling as speaking the words "my wife" -- and wasn't quite sure why he said it. He glanced at his new acquaintance, ready to teach him another lesson about the perils of being nosy if he saw so much as a lewd hint in his expression.

"Hey." Ares turned to see Xena, a sly smile on her face, and barely had time to react when she said "Catch!" and threw his swordbelt and sword at him. Her own sword was strapped to her back.

"What's that for?"

"We're going for a little workout." Her eyebrow arched a little. "If you're up to it."

"Where?" he asked, putting on the belt.

"A training ground -- it's just a short walk from here. Come on."

Ares could feel the fellow's envious stare on the back of his head as he and Xena headed toward the door and she squeezed his shoulder. They stepped outside, into the velvety golden warmth of the evening sun.

"I'm up to it." Ares squinted a little at the sunlight. "As long as you remember that you shouldn't run me through."

She smirked at him. "If you behave."

* ~ * ~ *

"Gabrielle! Over here!"

Gabrielle craned her neck and saw Virgil waving at her from the other side of the crowded hall. She wasn't sure if her heart leaped with joy or sank a little.

She had been thinking about Virgil on her way to the library, and these thoughts had left her feeling confused, guilty, and vaguely agitated.

At first, walking through Megara's busy, dusty streets, she had casually wondered why Xena -- who might enjoy the occasional night at the theater if the play had enough action but was otherwise quite indifferent to all things literary -- had volunteered to accompany her to Sappho's reading. Then she realized that Xena hadn't offered to come along until the mention of Virgil. Was Xena jealous? The very idea made her bump into a bundle-laden donkey, earning her an outraged "Watch where ya going, lady!" from its driver.

It was absurd to think that Xena could be jealous of Virgil ... or was it? Suddenly, Gabrielle found herself pondering her feelings toward him. She had liked him from the moment they met, when she was still grappling with the idea that she had spent twenty-five years on ice, that her friend and hapless admirer Joxer now had a son who looked about the same age as she. Tall and broad-shouldered, Virgil had such an open face, such kind, curious, sparkling eyes, such an infectious boyish smile. And he turned out to be not only an able fighter but an aspiring bard -- someone with whom she had a lot in common Then Joxer was killed, and their shared if not equal grief brought her and Virgil closer as she tried to ease his pain and calm his rage. Once the crisis was over and the dust had settled, their friendship had endured; Virgil had helped rescue her niece from Gurkhan, and had joined her and Xena on a few other adventures. He was a good friend. She suspected that he felt something more for her, the way Joxer had, but she hoped it would never go beyond a mild crush.

There was, however, one memory Gabrielle didn't especially like revisiting. A few months earlier, she and Xena had gone to Rome to take on Caligula, the new emperor whose cruelties were becoming a gruesome legend and in whose dungeons Eve had wound up along with hundreds of other Eli followers. It seemed that stopping him might require Xena's special skills, since rumor had it that the emperor had become a god.

As part of Xena's plan, they had to attend a bacchanalia at the palace. The evening went on and the wine flowed, and the guests shed more and more of their inhibitions, often along with their clothes. In order to blend in and keep drunken and lecherous courtiers at bay, she and Virgil pretended to be together, and they finally ended up embracing on a pile of cushions, he with his shirt off, she in a skimpy green-and-gold silk tunic. Gabrielle felt intensely uneasy, particularly when she realized that her pretend caresses were having a very real effect on Virgil. Meanwhile, Caligula himself made the rounds of the banquet hall, encouraging with ribald remarks the men and women cavorting in various combinations. The emperor stopped close to Gabrielle and Virgil; the show had to go on, and she slid down and ran her tongue over Virgil's nipple. He made a strangled sound in his throat and squeezed her behind through the thin fabric, pressing her closer to him. She felt his hardness against her stomach, and with a shock, she also felt the familiar warmth between her legs. It was the first time since she and Xena had become lovers that somebody else had made her feel that way. Her cheeks on fire, she moved away a little and whispered, "I'm sorry," and Virgil gave her a searching look, then nodded and said quietly, "I'm sorry too."

There was a bit of awkwardness between them in the next few days before their mission was over, with Caligula dead -- his godhood, in the end, had proved to be nothing more than a madman's boast -- and the Elijans freed. A couple of times, Gabrielle noticed Virgil looking at her oddly, as if on the brink of saying something; she considered telling him about herself and Xena but, in the end, did not. They had never made a conscious decision to keep their relationship a secret; it was simply private, too precious to expose to others.

She and Virgil hadn't seen each other since then, until earlier that day at the scroll market. Everything seemed back to normal. They were good friends; that was all.

Or was it? Climbing up the slope of one of Megara's twin hills, toward the ornate building of the city library, Gabrielle wondered for the first time if Virgil could have been something more to her than a friend. What if she had been ... on her own when they met?

When she reached the library's marble steps, Gabrielle stopped abruptly in her tracks, oblivious to the people walking past her and to their puzzled or irritated glances. Was she thinking of having an affair with Virgil to get back at Xena, and trying to justify it to herself? No -- impossible -- absurd. She didn't think such thoughts. Glancing down, she realized that the gilded bracelet she was wearing was the same one she'd had at that bacchanalia in Rome, and a scalding heat spread over her neck and face. She yanked off the bracelet, nearly hurting her wrist, and slipped it into her satchel. How low would she sink next? Flirt with Virgil just to make Xena jealous?

No more of that, she told herself as she walked up the steps. She was going to spend an evening with her good friend. Nothing else.

And there he was now, making his way toward her, his face lit up with that irrepressible grin.

"Gabrielle." They hugged and he kissed her on the cheek. "Great to see you. That's a very pretty dress."

"Thanks."

"You look a little tired. Come on" -- he took her elbow -- "I'll buy you a lemonade to celebrate my new wealth."

"Wealth?"

"Yeah." He grinned again, propelling her toward the refreshments stand by the wall. "Two of my scrolls were sold at the market today."

"Virgil, that's wonderful!"

"So," Virgil said a few moments later as they looked around for a seat, sipping honey-flavored lemonade, "what's up? We didn't have much of a chance to talk before. By the way, I spoke to somebody who ran into you and Xena in Elaea, just over a month ago..."

"Oh yeah -- we were there running a couple of greedy cults out of town. You know how it is -- a Warrior Princess's work is never done ..."

"And neither is a Battling Bard's?" Virgil smiled at her affectionately. "Anyway -- this person said you two were traveling with some man now?"

"A man -- oh, that's not a man. That's Ares," she said, almost breezily. "Remember, I told you he's mortal now -- he gave up his godhood to heal Eve and me -- "

"What do you mean -- 'not a man'?" He gave her a puzzled, slightly amused look.

She felt herself blushing. "Well, he's a man of course" -- she laughed nervously -- "it's just that I'm so used to thinking of him as a god..."

"And he's traveling with you and Xena?"

"Just for a while. Some warlords were after him, trying to settle old scores -- so we thought it would be safer..." She trailed off.

After a pause, Virgil asked, "Well, what about you? Any new scrolls? I'm always looking for them at the vendors' ..."

"It's been a while since I've had anything published."

"That's too bad. You're such a wonderful writer, Gabrielle -- have I ever told you it was reading your scrolls that made me want to be a bard?"

"Only every time we've met."

"Your stories always made me feel like I was really there. And you know something else? It's great how they always have a moral but you don't beat the reader over the head with it... Are you writing anything now?"

She sighed. "Not really."

"Why not?"

After a brief silence, she said, "Maybe I'm just not sure what the moral of the story is anymore."

"What do you mean?" Virgil turned and looked at her, frowning a little. "Gabrielle, is something wrong?"

To her helpless dismay, her eyes were filling with tears.

"Look, there's two empty seats -- let's go over or there won't be any room left to sit."

"Gabrielle." He pressed his fingers to her cheek, gently turning her head toward him. "Talk to me. We're friends, aren't we?"

"Of course we are..." She blinked and managed a lopsided smile. "It's nothing."

"Come on." He steered her toward a side door and out into the hallway.

"What are you doing? They're about to start -- "

"We're going to talk about whatever's troubling you so much."

Virgil looked around and led her into one of the small reading rooms, closing the door behind them. Gabrielle dabbed discreetly at her eyes. She couldn't even begin to tell him...

"Go on." They sat facing each other now, and his hand was on her arm -- gentle, strong, warm. "Please, Gabrielle. You can talk to me. What did you mean about not knowing the moral of the story?"

She couldn't tell him what was going on with her and Xena and Ares. But there was something else, another reason that she often felt she had lost her way, and she could talk to him about that. In fact, she realized, it was all part of the same thing: the price she had to pay for being with the person she loved more than anything in the world.

"Remember I told you that after we left Rome, Xena and I went to Northern Africa?"

"Yeah."

"When we were there -- something awful happened. No, not happened. I did it. I did something awful."

"What?"

"I... I killed someone. An innocent man." Gabrielle shook her head. "A man ... he was just a kid, really."

"Oh, Gabrielle... It was an accident -- "

"Well, it was. But it didn't just happen... Xena and I were caught in a sandstorm, and I saw someone coming up behind her -- he had a thing in his hand, I thought it was a dagger... so I stabbed him. Twice. I killed him, Virgil. And it turned out that the thing in his hand was just a scroll ... and then I pulled off his cloak and -- it was Korah." The tears were coming back.

"You knew him?"

"Yeah... we were guests of his family, Xena and I." She sniffled and chuckled bitterly. "You know, he admired me. He looked up to me as a warrior... he wanted me to teach him."

"Gabrielle, I'm so sorry." Virgil put his arms around her and she let the tears flow, leaning against his chest.

"And I taught him, didn't I." Then she was laughing and crying at the same time, her teeth chattering, her shoulders shaking. "Oh, I taught him all right."

Virgil brought the cup of lemonade to her mouth, made her take a few sips, and held her until she calmed down. She sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap.

"You thought you were defending Xena," he said softly.

"Virgil, I could have stopped him some other way. Knocked him down, tried to disarm him. Instead, I just -- lost it. I thought Xena was in danger and I went straight for the kill. All those years ago, when I left home to go off with her, I wanted to be a warrior. You know what I am now? A killer."

"Every warrior is a killer."

"I thought I could be different. I thought I could fight and still have reverence for life -- still do everything in my power not to take life if there was any other way. Foolish, huh?"

"You've always tried to do the right thing -- you and Xena."

"The right thing." Gabrielle gave another short laugh. "You don't know what happened after I killed Korah."

She told him the rest of the story: how Xena lied to the nomads and tried to blame Korah's death on the Romans who were trying to subjugate the natives in the region; how, after a captured Roman soldier was nearly executed on the spot for the boy's murder, she finally confessed against Xena's wishes, and was herself sentenced to death; how, in order to rescue her, Xena engineered a Roman attack on the nomad tribes. True, Xena also helped the nomads fight back and win the day, partly through sheer luck; still, it went against everything they believed in.

"Gabrielle." Virgil gently took her hands in his. "If Xena was willing to do that, it just shows how much she cares about you."

"For a while out there, I actually wanted to die." She looked down, watching as he stroked her hands. "It was better than to live knowing I killed that poor innocent boy. And sometimes I think -- what about all the other people who died by my hand? How guilty were they, really? Roman soldiers who only fought because they were conscripted, or had families to feed, or thought they were defending their country... temple warriors who fought for their gods just like I fought for my faith... what gave me the right to take their lives?" Gabrielle raised her head, staring into Virgil's kind hazel eyes. "I don't know, Virgil. I don't know anymore. Sometimes I'm really proud of what I've become. Sometimes, I feel like -- I'm losing myself."

"Then maybe it's not for you. Being a warrior, I mean."

"Maybe. But there's nothing I can do about it. I can't travel around with Xena and let her do all the fighting."

Virgil lowered his head for a moment and sighed.

"Then maybe you shouldn't -- "

"No. My path is with Xena."

He gave her a strange look. "Why?"

She gaped at him, suddenly at a loss.

"I don't understand," he said. "I admire Xena. She's a great woman. But you're your own person, with your own path -- you're smart, talented, brave -- "

"It's hard to explain... Virgil, we're connected in such a deep way... sometimes I don't understand it myself. But it's like -- somehow, ours souls sustain each other -- like sunlight and water sustain living things ... Or maybe that's not it. It's like she has half of my soul and I have half of hers..." But did that mean she couldn't have her own path?

"That's great." Virgil sounded a little dubious. "I just hate to see you so unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy," she said quickly.

"Gabrielle." He squeezed her hands and fidgeted. "I know you and Xena have a wonderful friendship, but do you think you'll ever have room in your life for -- a different kind of relationship?"

Her heart was beating wildly.

"Oh Virgil -- I -- I..."

"You don't have to say anything now. There, I got it out. I've been wanting to tell you for a while... Just think about it."

Gabrielle rubbed her still-damp face and smiled as best she could.

"We should go back in -- it's probably already started. Do I look like a total mess?"

"You look beautiful." He gingerly touched her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

They hugged and held each other for a moment, and he gave her a comforting pat on the back. Then she pulled back a little; they were staring at each other now, their faces so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath. He leaned closer and his lips touched hers.

Gabrielle closed her eyes. Maybe this was right. Maybe, with Virgil, she could have the life she wanted.

She opened her mouth and slipped the tip of her tongue between his lips, and heard his husky sigh.

* ~ * ~ *

Other people went out dancing; this was their dance and their music -- the leaps, the kicks, the thrusts, the blocks, the harsh cries and grunts, the song of blade meeting blade. Xena flipped in the air and landed behind Ares just as he spun to face her and parry her blow.

"Oh you're good," she breathed hoarsely.

"Years of practice..."

The thrust of his sword was only a distraction -- the real move was an attempt to kick her legs out from under her, which she dodged.

"Not as a mortal." This time she managed to plant her foot on his midriff and almost push him back when he grabbed her ankle and yanked it upward, making her lose her balance and land on her backside. Before he could hold her at the point of his sword, she rolled away and was on her feet again in a single leap.

The training ground, an inner courtyard at a combat school, was empty except for a half-dozen teenage students and their teacher, who had stopped their exercises to watch; the lone girl in the group seemed particularly riveted.

"There's more to it than" -- their swords clashed again and Ares raised his voice so that she could hear over him the clang -- "godhood."

He was, in fact, doing better than Xena had expected; his mortal reflexes were now sharpened to the point where he didn't need to rely on god powers to use his moves, and he certainly had the moves. Still, she wondered if she was at the top of her game, in full possession of the single-minded focus that Ares himself had once taught her was so important to a warrior. A tiny part of her was elsewhere, worrying about Gabrielle. Gabrielle and Virgil -- they were good friends, of course. Back at that bacchanalia in Rome, though, Gabrielle had been so flustered, and had glanced so nervously at Virgil... in fact, there had been a certain awkwardness between her and Virgil afterwards... She was barely able to deflect Ares' blow as he moved on her; for a few moments she had his blade pinned down, flashing him a teasing grin, and he creased his eyebrows in concentration and then grinned back at her as he yanked his sword away with a metallic screech.

As they continued to spar, Xena could see that Ares was getting tired. Perhaps he still wasn't quite used to the weaknesses of the mortal body after all; beads of sweat were rolling down his face and neck, and his breathing was hoarse and jerky. Fully focused now, she advanced, forcing him to put all his energy into defensive moves. She wasn't going to spare his feelings; she owed it to him to give him all she had. Finally, spotting a moment when his grip on his sword weakened, she took advantage of it to kick it from his hand. It landed only a few short steps away but definitely out of Ares' reach as he stood panting, her blade pointed at his throat, a mix of admiration and pique in his gaze. Her heart raced with excitement.

"Give up?" she purred.

Still trying to catch his breath, Ares smirked at her. "What are -- your terms?"

"Let's see... Unconditional surrender?"

"Ooh... I like the sound of that."

His eyes fixed on her, he spread out his arms, his palms turned outward, and sank slowly down on his knees. How theatrical -- or was he up to something? Xena lowered her sword, keeping its tip no more than a finger's length from Ares' chest.

"Unconditional surrender," he said huskily and leaned forward, keeping his hands at his sides. Still wary, she pulled the sword back a little.

"So?"

Bending lower, he kissed the tip of her boot. Xena chuckled; she was starting to relax, her body tingling pleasantly. "I didn't ask you to grovel."

"You know me. I don't do anything halfway." His lips traveled up to the skin just above the top of her boot, jolting her with a different kind of excitement. She became aware of the kids watching them across the yard.

"Ares -- " She gasped, then laughed. "Stop it!"

Even as she was saying it, her ankles were gripped as if in a vise and jerked forward violently; the grayish brick wall of the training school lurched before her eyes and gave way to the pale soft blue of the sky. Xena sprawled on the ground, feeling its hard slam to her shoulder blades and the sting of the sand on her bare skin. She let go of the sword long enough for Ares to push it away as he pinned her down.

"I never did say I gave up, did I?" He grinned. Not that he would mind losing to her, but still... He was about to ask if she wanted to reconsider the terms of his surrender when he heard her moan slightly and saw her eyelids flutter and close. She couldn't possibly be hurt -- she had taken far worse spills than that --

"Xena?"

Her head lolled to the side, and Ares felt frightened. He pulled himself up. "Xena," he said again, tapping her cheek with the back of his hand.

In the next instant, he found himself flipped over and pinned down, Xena's knee planted firmly on his chest. He should have seen it coming, of course. She reached for her sword and picked it up.

"Two can play this game," she said with a smug little smile.

She was incredible, smiling like that, her eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, hair damp with sweat.

"You are -- so good..."

Momentarily lightheaded with desire, Ares wanted to grasp her hips, pull her forward, tug at her undergarment with his teeth. He watched, with an acutely physical sense of loss, as Xena rose to her feet in a sharp, graceful motion. He imagined whisking her off to the Halls of War in a swirl of light, making their clothes vanish, ending their contest the way all their contests were meant to end, with a match in which surrender and victory were the same. Xena held out her hand and helped him up, to a burst of applause from the small but enthusiastic group of (damn them to Tartarus!) spectators.

"Come on," Xena said. "Let's go wash up."

"Wait." He slipped his sword back in the sheath at his belt. "Let's really show them."

Before she had a chance to say anything, he pulled her into a long, slow kiss, and after a moment's hesitation she responded. There was more clapping from the kids, and whooping cheers; Xena tensed in his arms and broke away all too soon. She gave him a wry look and said, once again, "Let's go."

* ~ * ~ *

When Gabrielle and Virgil came out of the reading room, a middle-aged white-clad librarian gave them a stern look, and Gabrielle felt herself blushing so deeply that it undoubtedly confirmed the woman's worst suspicions, if she had any -- even though nothing had actually happened except for a kiss.

A clear, melodious, resonant voice could be heard coming through the open doors of the main hall; the reading had already started. By the time they got back inside, there were no seats left. They tiptoed toward the front of the room and stood by the wall.

The woman on the raised platform was short and slender in her dark blue gown with a touch of gold; she had a slim, spirited face, and a halo of fine brown curls. Gabrielle had read and admired some of Sappho's poetry before, but she had never imagined how much lovelier the verses would be when spoken, almost sung, by the woman nicknamed the Tenth Muse. She sang of the pleasures of the senses, of sun-drenched orchards, of rose-garlanded maidens dancing in the moonlight, of wildflowers and dusky meadows, of friendship and love. She sang of lying in a lonely bed as the night rolled by and the moon and the stars faded.

Gabrielle felt Virgil's warm, firm fingers curl around her own, and her heart fluttered as she remembered their kiss. Could she love Virgil? It was strange to imagine herself with anyone but Xena, to think of lying in someone else's arms, of falling asleep by someone else's side -- of living by someone else's side. But it might be possible. She liked Virgil, cared about him, enjoyed his company. Perhaps she could learn to love him, too.

With a shock, she realized that she was thinking of leaving Xena. Well, why not? Perhaps the shocking part was that she hadn't seriously thought of it before, when it was so clear that she couldn't go on like this. Besides, did Xena still need her? Over the years, she had gotten used to thinking of herself as the keeper of Xena's conscience, the person who helped Xena fight the darkness, the rage, the violence inside her and around her. But maybe Xena was more than capable by now of fighting the darkness on her own. And maybe... With a shudder, Gabrielle remembered her confrontation with Ares, trying not to think of the horrific daydream that followed it. Maybe Ares had been right: the way she was now, she was no longer qualified to be anyone's guiding light. As for love -- well, Ares was a son of a bitch, but he adored Xena, and would happily die for her and live for her; there was no denying that.

Sappho was reciting a long poem about the wedding of the Trojan hero Hector and the noble Andromache, and Gabrielle's mind drifted back to her half-stifled earlier thought: what if she hadn't been with Xena when she met Virgil? In some ways, she and Virgil had much more in common than she and Xena. They shared a passion for literature and the arts, and an interest in spirituality; they were both warrior bards, and could have helped each other reconcile the two. With Virgil, she wouldn't be feeling -- the way she had for some time -- that the bard in her was losing to the warrior and slowly wasting away from neglect. With Virgil ... and this was something she could barely say even to herself: With Virgil, she could have children. Except that there was another thought, even more forbidden, hiding somewhere in a tiny nook in her mind. Virgil would be faithful.

Gabrielle tossed her head slightly and tried to focus on Sappho again, in time to catch the last lines of a fragment about Kleis, her golden-haired daughter. Sappho paused, her amber eyes looking out at the audience and locking for an instant on Gabrielle. Then she began to read again:

"Equal to the gods he is, I think,
When he sits near you, hears that voice
And velvet laugh, which make my heart
Tremble so wildly.

For there are times I look at you,
If only for a moment's span,
The words break silent on my tongue
And leave me speechless.

Thin fire runs beneath my skin,
And thunder pounds against my ears,
Chill sweat breaks out all over me,
My eyes see nothing,

My body shivers head to foot,
And I grow paler than the reeds
Until I'm lost -- and then it seems
That death is near me."

Her last words quivered and died in the stillness of the hall, and Gabrielle became aware that she was trembling. She felt it all, the thin fire under her skin, the pounding in her ears, the chill sweat, the sudden unseeingness of her tear-dimmed eyes. Virgil was speaking to her in a low voice, and it took an effort to break through the fog and hear him.

"Gabrielle -- are you all right?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand. "The poem... it's -- it's ..."

It's about me.

She struggled to breathe.

It's about Xena.

Gabrielle realized that Virgil was still holding her hand; but now it was stiff and cold in his grasp, like a dead thing, and after a moment he gently let it go.

* ~ * ~ *

The lilac haze of twilight had almost turned to night when Gabrielle and Virgil came out on the library portico. They were among the last to leave. After the reading, Gabrielle had wanted to talk to Sappho -- who, it turned out, had heard of the Bard of Potadeia and read a couple of her scrolls, which somewhat brightened Gabrielle's mood, though it didn't thrill her to the core as it would have once. Now, she was clutching a precious gift from the Tenth Muse: the scroll with the poem, "Equal to the gods...," which she had asked Sappho (reddening slightly as she did so) to inscribe on the back, "To Gabrielle and Xena."

The evening's soft breath cooled her bare skin, making her hunch her shoulders. She put the scroll into her satchel and looked up at Virgil. The torch fixed to a column behind him made the air shimmer and the shadows sway, deepening the darkness that veiled his face.

"I'm sorry," she said.

His eyes flickered. "You don't have to apologize."

"Virgil..." Gabrielle put her hand on his and sighed deeply. "I just want to explain... I love someone else."

He stared at her intently, leaned a little closer and said, "It's Xena, isn't it..."

Her throat dry, she nodded. There were other people with whom she had more in common, with whom, perhaps, she would have had a better life. But... Why do we love the people we love? We just do. That was what she said to Joxer once...

"Please believe me," she said imploringly. "If things were different -- if I could -- you're the kind of person I'd want to spend my life with."

When she let go of his hand, Virgil stared down and shifted his feet. He seemed to tense up, as if trying to muster the courage to ask her something. Finally he raised his head.

"I hope" -- he stopped for a moment, as if suddenly out of breath -- "I hope you're happy, Gabrielle."

She wished the torchlight weren't on her face; she didn't want him to see that she was fighting back tears as she smiled. "We'll always be friends, right?"

"Of course."

Virgil stooped slightly to hug her, and they stood still for a moment, her chin resting on his shoulder, his large hand pressing warmly against her back.

* ~ * ~ *

Virgil turned and stared after Gabrielle. She had sweetly refused his offer to walk back with her, pointing out that his inn was on the other side of town. By now, her shape was nothing more than a grayish blot that grew smaller until it blended into the night.

The dark, nearly deserted street was lined with lemon trees whose murmurings lingered in the air, their tangy scent mixing with the occasional whiff of chimney smoke and a mercifully faint horsy smell. Virgil walked on, thinking wistfully about Gabrielle. His mind relived once again the moment of their kiss, the frightened tenderness in her eyes before she closed them, the soft uncertain touch of her lips and tongue, the throbbing of his own heart. And then, the moment when he felt her hand go rigid in his... She hadn't meant to toy with him, of that he had no doubt; but his bewilderment lingered. He recalled his chat with the wine merchant who had seen Xena and Gabrielle in Elaea; the woman had seemed quite sure that Xena and her male companion (whose appearance she had described in highly enthusiastic terms) were in love. There was, too, the way Gabrielle had reacted to that poem, with its expression of helpless jealousy in the opening lines... Was her passion for Xena unrequited, perhaps unspoken? Of course, it was possible that the two women were lovers but Xena was attracted to Ares and Gabrielle was worried about it ... though surely Xena was far too honorable to be unfaithful.

So the mystery man was Ares. It made Virgil wince a bit. Gabrielle's scrolls had not formed a flattering image of the War God in his mind; he knew that Ares had killed Eli, and had been Livia's patron when she murdered his father. Then again, Ares had given up his godhood to save Gabrielle and Eve, apparently out of love for Xena. There were things Virgil knew he'd never understand. He just hoped Gabrielle wouldn't get hurt.

Back there outside the library, he had almost asked Gabrielle what was actually going on between her and Xena; but he was glad he hadn't. Perhaps, if things weren't well... no, whatever the women's relationship was, it wouldn't be right for him to get between them. Gabrielle had to sort it out, and if the time was ever right, she would come to him. For now, her heart obviously belonged to Xena.

Virgil's chest and throat tightened with a quick wrench of pain. Some time after his father's death, the realization had hit him that Joxer had been deeply, hopelessly in love with Gabrielle. Maybe it was a family curse, Virgil thought with a wry chuckle.

Heaven only knew when he'd see her again. Tomorrow, he would be leaving Megara and moving on to Corinth, to take more of his scrolls to the vendors there. He had almost forgotten that he had to stop by the library again in the morning and deliver a copy to them; the head librarian had been interested, and it was certainly an honor.

He hoped that Gabrielle would like his poem, and that he'd have a chance to discuss it with her sometime. What a wonderful life it would have been, to show her what he'd written at the end of each day, to be the first to read her new scrolls. Maybe there was still a chance... But it was best to accept that this wasn't going to happen; best for both of them, and for their friendship.

In his room at the inn, packing his modest belongings for the next day's journey, Virgil thought of his father again. Yes, Joxer had loved Gabrielle his whole life; yet he had married Meg, and all in all they had been happy together -- in spite of their bickering, in spite of the quiet longing that Virgil had sometimes noticed in his father's face when Joxer was looking at Gabrielle's scrolls or at some of the memorabilia in the tavern. Gabrielle wasn't the kind of woman one got over. But life would go on.

As he climbed into the too-narrow bed and rested his head on the pillow, the tears came without warning. He wasn't sure if he was crying over his father -- God, I miss you, Dad -- or over Gabrielle. After a short while he wiped his face and took a few deep breaths. He would be all right. He hoped Gabrielle would be, too.

* ~ * ~ *

The small brass statue over the inn's entrance, lit by two sputtering torches on the sides of the door, advertised the name of the establishment: The Huntress and the Hound. Both hound and huntress grinned evilly at Gabrielle -- or so the wavering shadows and the reflected gleam of the torchlight made it look. Gabrielle shivered, wishing she could laugh at herself. In the dark, lost in her sad thoughts, it was a wonder she'd actually made it back to the inn. As she pushed the creaky door, the flesh-and-blood hound dozing by the threshold opened a lazy, glittering yellow eye at her.

The door snapped shut behind her as she stepped into the stale air of the inn. She felt tired and drained. The smell of food drifted her way from the still-open tavern. Maybe she would feel better if she ate something. Besides, she wasn't ready to face Xena just yet.

A short while later Gabrielle sat at a table, poking distractedly at her vegetable stew. The whole way back from the library, nearly an hour's walk, she had felt sick with misery. She had acted like a cheap tease toward a good, caring, loyal friend -- only to realize with a terrifying finality that there was no one for her but Xena, there couldn't be anyone else. And where did that leave her? She had tried to think of some solution, and kept stumbling into the same answer: There was no way out -- not unless Xena chose to send Ares away, unless it was her decision ... and even if Xena did make that choice but only as a sacrifice for her, how much of a solution would it be?

Now, she thought back to the day her life changed -- that day on the farm when she went to try to get Ares' dog back, and something happened while she was gone, and then Ares stormed off to drown his sorrows in wine. Drown his sorrows in wine... For the first time, Gabrielle understood why people could want to get away from themselves so much that they would do that.

The serving girl stopped at her table and asked irritably, "Anything to drink?"

And why not?

"I'll have wine," she said.

The girl brought her a cup of wine and Gabrielle sipped the dark red liquid, wrinkling her nose at its heady, spicy taste. Its warmth settled into her body, bringing some comfort.

Maybe it was madness to stay. But there was a reason. For there are times I look at you, if only for a moment's span... No one else would ever make her feel this way. Only she wasn't sure anymore if that feeling was a blessing or --

Gabrielle gulped down the rest of the wine so quickly that it made her cough, burning her throat. Then she motioned to the serving girl and asked for more wine.

"Make it a pitcher," she said, her voice a croak.

She pulled the scroll with the poem out of her satchel and unrolled it on her lap.

* ~ * ~ *

Long past midnight, Xena thought as she looked at the blue flecks scattered on the night sky. She walked away from the window and sat down on Gabrielle's bed.

There was still no sign of Gabrielle. Well, Gabrielle and Virgil could stay up all night talking about his epic poem, or the theater, or Eastern religions. But ... Xena imagined Gabrielle looking up at Virgil, her greenish-gray eyes wide and bright, her lips parted, her beautiful face so open, so trusting, so loving. She imagined Gabrielle standing before Virgil and letting her dress crumple in a soft heap at her feet, in a gesture less of seduction than of bold innocence and complete vulnerability, baring all of herself, body and soul. She bit down on her lip.

Of course, she was hardly in a position to object if Gabrielle took a lover on the side ... not when every fiber of her flesh still held the memory of Ares' touch. She hadn't meant to make love to him that evening; but somehow, when they went to bathe in the indoor tub at the school after their sparring, when his arms encircled her from behind and he pressed into her, shuddering wildly, his breath hot and ragged on her neck, she couldn't deny him -- couldn't deny herself. She broke free from his embrace but only to turn around, to smile as the momentary disappointment fled from his face, to touch his half-closed eyes, his lips, his cheek. Maybe it was knowing that she had nearly lost him, or knowing that one of these days she would lose him, but she wanted to hold him, all of him, and never let go.

No, she couldn't begrudge Gabrielle a fling; but Gabrielle wouldn't have a fling. If she went to bed with Virgil, she would leave with him. It was that simple. Xena bolted up and walked around the cramped room, as if she could escape the swelling, surging tide of panic.

She needed Gabrielle's love, but it wasn't just that; she needed Gabrielle's faith in her, needed to see herself through Gabrielle's eyes -- as a good person, as someone who would always strive to do better. How did Gabrielle see her now? She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

A noise in the hallway drew her attention: the sound of shuffling, stumbling feet, and another person's heavy steps. "This way, missy," said a male voice Xena recognized as belonging to the inn's proprietor, and then the door was pushed open. There stood the stocky balding innkeeper, with a disheveled, sleepy Gabrielle leaning on his arm.

"What is going on?"

"Beg pardon, ma'am..." The innkeeper nodded nervously toward Gabrielle. "Your friend ‑- she, uh -- "

Gabrielle lifted her head and stared sullenly at Xena.

"Hello, Xena." Her voice was thick, her face puffy. She let go of the innkeeper's arm and swayed a little.

"... she, uh, fell asleep in the tavern..."

"All right," Xena said coldly and waited for the man to leave. Her initial shock had given way to a familiar pain, so unbearable that it was numbing. I'm destroying Gabrielle. Only now, it was less a fear than a certainty.

Gabrielle flung her satchel into a corner and kicked off one of her shoes. The violent motion made her totter; she would have fallen if Xena hadn't been there to catch her. Her breath reeked of wine fumes.

"Come on." Xena sat her down on the bed, knelt before her and moved to take off the other shoe.

"I can do it," Gabrielle said. She yanked her foot out of Xena's hand and swung it, making the shoe thud dully against the wall.

Still kneeling, her head down, Xena said softly, "I was worried about you."

"Worried -- about -- what?" Gabrielle spoke slowly and carefully, but her voice now had a shrill edge. "That I got run over by a horse? Or that I slept with Virgil?"

Did you? In the tense silence that followed, a voice in Xena's head repeated those two words again and again, until she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Did you?" She paused. "Get run over by a horse, I mean."

Gabrielle made a sound that was something between a giggle and a snort. "Yeah, I did. A big one." She made that sound again, only this time it was a sob.

"I'm sorry," Xena whispered. "I'm sorry."

She took Gabrielle's foot, cradling it gently in her hands, and pressed her lips to it. After a moment she looked up.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her eyes aching.

With a sigh, Gabrielle leaned forward, and they embraced. Still holding back tears, Xena buried her face in Gabrielle's neck, kissing the delicate warm skin, running her hand over Gabrielle's hair. She felt Gabrielle's feverish breath and the wet touch of her mouth -- and then, so suddenly that she nearly cried out, the sharp jolt of pain as Gabrielle bit into her shoulder.

She jerked back. "What are you doing?"

"That's what you want, isn't it?" The smile on Gabrielle's face was a grimace, an almost evil taunt. She squeezed Xena's breasts, twisting them through the leather tunic. "Isn't this what ‑- "

Xena's mouth covered hers before she could finish. No, not Gabrielle... Gabrielle wasn't like this ... Gabrielle bit again, drawing blood, and Xena didn't resist, just held her in a strong tender hug, softly, so softly caressing Gabrielle's lips with her tongue. The thick aftertaste of wine in Gabrielle's mouth reminded her of how Ares got drunk in the tavern that day, after she told him she and Gabrielle were lovers -- how she kissed him and his anger ebbed away -- and she wasn't sure if her heart was hurting for Gabrielle or for Ares, or for both of them.

Gabrielle's hands slackened and slid down to Xena's waist.

"Lie down," Xena said. "Lie down."

Easing her on the bed, she pulled off Gabrielle's dress, then took off her own tunic and put out the lamp. As Xena lay down next to Gabrielle, it occurred to her dimly that making love wasn't going to solve anything -- it was like giving a wounded man a painkiller when the wound was left untreated -- but it was the only thing she could give Gabrielle, and herself, right now. It was best not to think about the fact that only hours earlier she had made love to Ares, or about whether she would ever make love to him again. Gabrielle flinched almost convulsively in her arms and tried to push her on her back, crushing her lips against Xena's; but this time there was something tentative about her violence.

"Shh." Xena pulled back a little, stroking Gabrielle's hair and face, pressing a finger to her lips. "You don't need to do this. It's okay. It's okay."

She caressed Gabrielle's shoulders, kissed her neck, then slid down to kiss her chest, swirling her tongue over each nipple, trailing her lips over the moist underside of each breast. As Gabrielle squirmed and her breathing came faster, turning to little moans, Xena felt her own desire rise and spread through her, and at least for now the pain and doubt and confusion melted away in that warm rush.

Xena pulled up again and brushed her lips against Gabrielle's, and gasped as she felt Gabrielle's hand slide between her thighs.

"Gabrielle... please..."

"Hmm?"

She wished she had kept the light on; she wanted to see Gabrielle's face like this, swept with tenderness and passion.

"Don't ever leave me," she murmured, covering Gabrielle's face with kisses, knowing that she had no right to say it. "Don't ever..."

* ~ * ~ *

Whatever had kept them up late last night, he was not going to starve waiting for them to come down for breakfast.

Dressed in his leathers, with the absence of sword and gauntlets his only concession to leisure time, Ares looked around the crowded tavern once again; seeing no trace of Xena or Gabrielle anywhere, he headed toward one of the tables. The serving wench sashayed up to him with an unusually friendly look on her snub-nosed vacuous face.

"Good morning," she said brightly. "Your, um, friends aren't here?"

"Sleeping late." He smiled back at her. "What do you say we go ahead and start without them?"

The girl giggled. "Okay. We've got honey-flavored wheat porridge, we've got pancakes and we've got baked apples."

"Hm ... not exactly the food of the gods, is it."

"Can't say as we get too many of those 'round here." She giggled again.

When the girl brought his breakfast -- porridge, pancakes and milk -- and set it down on the table, she said, "You know, I almost forgot. One of your friends, the blonde -- she lost something here last night."

"What?"

The girl showed him something she had been holding under her arm. A scroll. Now this could be interesting. Something from Blondie's quill? An opportunity for a little bard-baiting? He still owed her for that stunt with the Pindar poem, not to mention the business about selling off his things.

"Between you and me" -- the girl gave him a conspiratorial smirk -- "she had a few too many last night. Almost a full pitcher of wine. Passed out right at the table. I guess she dropped this thing on the floor."

"What does it say?"

The girl made a face. "Do I look like I can read?"

"All right," Ares said thoughtfully. For some reason, the image of Blondie drinking herself senseless wasn't as vastly amusing as it should have been. "Give me that."

Gulping down a mouthful of somewhat stale porridge (the "honey-flavored" part was very exaggerated), he unfurled the scroll and started reading. Equal to the gods he is ...

When he was finished, he slowly put down the scroll and realized that his other hand was still frozen on the spoon he had dipped into the porridge. Had Blondie actually written this? Ares tried to remember what her handwriting looked like. He really should have read a few of her scrolls.

Whether it was her poem or not, she was not going to be happy once she realized she had lost it. And if she knew it had ended up in his hands... ow. He could lay the trap for her on some quiet evening at the campfire: make a casual remark about finding a scroll, recite the poem, and watch her squirm. Except that something in him recoiled from the thought of making fun of this little piece of verse; besides, if he did try reading it aloud, whatever he had felt while reading it just now might come over him again, and show in his voice. Better to drop a hint -- work some phrase from the poem into everyday conversation and give her a meaningful look to let her know it was no accident. Oh, that would sting.

Ares looked at his trophy again. The words stared back at him, stark and black on the yellowish papyrus. Until I'm lost -- and then it seems that death is near me...

He rolled up the scroll and pushed away his half-eaten breakfast.

A few moments later, still not knowing for sure why he was doing this, he was knocking on Gabrielle's door.

"Xena?" Even with the door between them, he could tell she sounded nervous.

"No. It's me."

There was a short, puzzled pause, and then a brusque, "What do you want?"

"Open up," he said.

Another pause, and then finally -- "Come in."

He pushed the door open. Gabrielle was kneeling on the floor, with an open saddlebag in front of her. Her face worried and pinched, she looked awful, though it was hard to tell how much of it was from the hangover and how much from the coarse gray half-dark of the room.

"Lose something?" He held up the scroll.

She gasped and jumped to her feet.

"What are you ..." She pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes for a moment. "You took -- "

With an animal-like cry, she flung herself at Ares so fast that he didn't have time to say anything or to deflect her blow. She might have been aiming for his face but her punch connected with his neck. The pain was excruciating, and when he tried to breathe the air suddenly wasn't there. As he clutched at his throat, barely aware of the scroll landing on the floor with a soft tap, it occurred to him dimly that maybe Xena had taught her the pinch and this was it.

"I hate you." Her voice was low, vibrating with venom; then, it rose to a shriek. "I hate you!"

He managed to take a small breath, and when she charged him again he grabbed her wrists. They struggled silently, panting and grunting like wrestlers. She kicked at his leg, making him lose his balance; he stumbled forward, and they both went down hard. A short, harsh gasp pushed out of Gabrielle's throat as he landed on top of her.

"Get off me," she hissed, wriggling under him, her face taut with rage.

"You're" -- his voice broke off and he coughed -- "dangerously insane." It still hurt to breathe, let alone talk, and keeping her pinned down took quite an effort.

"I hate you," she said again. He caught the sour smell on her breath.

"Oh, big deal. I hate you too."

"I'll kill you for this." She sounded like she meant every bit of it. "It was mine -- and you took it -- "

"Dammit. You left it in the tavern last night."

Her face collapsed. She stopped struggling and stared at him blankly, her eyes very big, her mouth lax.

"What?"

"You dropped it on the floor in the tavern. I brought it back."

"Oh," she said softly. Her lips trembled and he was afraid she was about to cry. "Oh."

Ares finally managed to steady his breath. At that moment, he became aware that his vest was open and he could feel her breasts pushed up against his chest. He also realized that he was aroused. Gabrielle was still staring at him, only now there was something shocked and vulnerable in her look, and he was almost certain that she was aware of it too.

With a shudder, he rolled off her and sat up. Gabrielle remained sprawled on the floor, her top askew, exposing the pale pink around her left nipple. He turned away, scrambled to his feet and rested his forehead against the fly-specked wall.

"Did you write this?" he said after a while.

She gave a short laugh. "I wish. I'm not that good." She paused and then added, "It's by Sappho. You know -- the reading, last night -- "

"Yeah."

He heard her get up, then sit down heavily on the bed.

"I'd better go," he said.

"The poem -- did you like it?"

He turned around. The wondering, almost-sympathetic look on her face annoyed him more than her earlier violent outburst.

"If you think we're going to have a warm and fuzzy little bonding moment over this -- thing" -- he chuckled -- "then you're really insane."

She lowered her head and said quietly, "Please go."

When his hand was already on the door handle, he heard her murmur almost inaudibly, "Thank you."

He threw the door open and almost collided with Xena.

Oh shit.

They stood silently, staring at each other. He hoped he didn't look too guilty.

Xena's eyes narrowed slowly.

"What are you doing here?"

"I, uh -- Gabrielle lost something at the tavern last night and I brought it back."

"She -- lost something?"

"Just a scroll I was reading," Gabrielle said hastily. "It's nothing important."

Xena stepped inside, looking back and forth from Gabrielle to Ares. Then she shook her head and sighed, the wariness in her face giving way to worry. She held up a scroll which Ares only now noticed in her hand.

"Bad news," she said. "This is from Varia. The Amazons have Eve and they're holding her for trial."

CHAPTER 7

The situation was simple enough. Eve, banned from Amazon lands on pain of death for her crimes as Livia, Champion of Rome, had gone to the Amazons on some kind of mission from the new Roman emperor, and was seized on the orders of Queen Varia. Varia's terse letter, addressed to both Xena and Gabrielle, stated that Eve's trial was being postponed until their arrival -- to let Gabrielle participate in the meeting of the council and cast a vote, and to allow Xena to attend in recognition of the services she had rendered the Amazons.

"There's more." Xena looked up from the scroll and turned to Ares, who stood slouching by the wall. "Varia says that if we know where you are, we should bring you as a witness at Eve's trial."

He stared back at her, still in the same casual posture.

"Okay," he said slowly.

Gabrielle shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. She was still shaken by everything that had happened that morning, and trying to sort out her jumbled but discomfiting memories of the night before. And now, this.

"What was Eve thinking?" she said, mainly because she had to say something.

Xena gave her a hard look.

"Maybe she was thinking that if she risked her life to bring peace to the Amazons, she would make up for some of what she did before." Her eyelids quivered and her voice fell to a near-whisper. "Maybe she was thinking that she deserved to die."

She was silent, and it seemed that the small room, crowded enough with three people in it, was suddenly teeming with ghosts.

Xena rolled up the scroll and looked at Ares again.

"What do you know about this?"

"About what?"

"Eve -- Livia's raids on the Amazons."

Ares lowered his eyes and mumbled something.

"What was that?"

He looked up. "It was my idea. You know that, don't you. You just wanted to make me say it."

Xena didn't seem too shocked, yet her voice was choked when she finally asked, "Why?"

He shrugged. "I thought it would be fun to have Livia go up against the Amazons."

"Fun," Xena said heavily.

Ares uncoiled himself from the wall and stood up straight, scowling.

"I wanted a good fight."

The sudden reminder that she was looking at the God of War made Gabrielle shiver, and then stiffen with resentment.

"You mean, you wanted slaughter," she said.

Ares glared at her as if she were an intruder.

"I didn't think it would be a slaughter." He spoke slowly and deliberately. "Maybe I overestimated your Amazons. I didn't expect them to fold like a bunch of schoolgirls."

Xena's mouth curled downward. For a moment Gabrielle felt absurdly elated. She and Xena, united against Ares. That felt right. That felt ... good.

Ares turned back to Xena. "Look, if you expect me to apologize for what I am..." He stopped for a moment, and some of the cockiness seemed to fade from his face and his voice. "For what I was... What did you expect me to do when you were gone? Take up chicken farming as a hobby?"

"How about stay away from my daughter?"

Ares lowered his head, his shoulders sagging a little. Gabrielle felt disgusted with herself. Xena's daughter, their daughter, was in mortal peril, and she was gloating because Xena was angry at Ares.

"I told you," he said, "I didn't know..."

"Listen," Gabrielle said, a little too loudly, "we have to think about how to get Eve out of -- "

"And if you had known?" Xena cut in.

Ares straightened up again, meeting Xena's stare with a kind of desperate defiance.

"What, you're going to blame me for corrupting your baby? I didn't make her who she was, Xena. How do you think she got my attention? The first time I saw her was when she was leading the Roman troops in Gaul, the day she got that scar on her back. Let me tell you" -- he sneered crookedly -- "it was quite a number she did on those Gauls ... three villages wiped out in one day. And she was just twenty years old then."

It hurt even to look at Xena's face.

"And you just loved it, didn't you," she said, her voice hard and brittle.

"I was the God of War. You told me once that I was right for the job, remember?"

"I suppose you also told my daughter to sell the Amazons she had captured into slavery. All in a day's work, huh?"

"I told her that the Amazons would make excellent gladiators -- that if she brought such fighters back to Rome for the gladiatorial colleges, it would be great for her reputation. But don't blame it all on me, Xena. I wasn't the one who told your little girl how to dispose of damaged goods. That was all her."

"Damaged goods..." Xena's voice was a faint echo of itself.

"Yeah. The ones whose injuries were so bad they wouldn't be any good in the arena."

Stop it, Gabrielle wanted to scream, can't you see you're tearing her apart? But she had the bizarre feeling that they wouldn't hear her, as if she were watching them through an invisible yet solid wall.

"She threw them overboard," Ares spat out. "She was taking them back to Rome by boat, and she gave the orders. They still had their shackles -- "

"All right," Xena said, her voice drained of anger, drained of life. She sat down on the bed next to Gabrielle. After a moment Gabrielle drew an arm around her shoulder, and Xena leaned against her a little. Ares looked confused.

"Xena..." he started, and trailed off.

Finally, Xena sat up.

"Does Varia know about this?" She looked as neutral and businesslike as she sounded.

He shrugged. "How do I know?"

Xena nodded thoughtfully, and then said, "We'll leave today -- if we make good time, it shouldn't take us more than a week to get there." She glanced at Ares. "You should stay here."

"Stay here? What are you talking about?"

"It's for your safety. I know Varia. She's ambitious. She'd like nothing more than to make her reputation by bringing down the God of War." She snorted and shook her head. "Even the former God of War."

"And you think I'm going to turn tail and run?"

"Ares, this isn't about your pride."

"Obviously, you don't think I have any," he shot back. "You can't keep me from going."

"I'm asking you not to go."

"I said I'm going."

Xena gave him a grim look. "Do you want me to promise that I ... we'll come back for you?"

Come back ... Gabrielle felt the words sink in like lead weights.

"You think that's the only reason I want to go? That I'm scared you'll dump me? I told you, I'm not going to hide from Varia."

"Look, can we just stop bickering?" Gabrielle snapped. Listening to this would be bad enough anywhere; here in this small, stuffy room, it was almost unbearable.

"Fine," Xena muttered through clenched teeth. "Do whatever you want. We're leaving right after breakfast."

* ~ * ~ *

Over the next few days, they rode a lot, slept and ate little, and spoke even less.

Several times on that journey, Ares wondered if he was going mad as his emotions plunged him by turns into fire and ice: scalding hot anger, the coldness of the distance between himself and Xena, the feverish chill of the fear that he had lost her.

At first, his anger was directed mostly at Xena. What did she want from him? He had already given up being a god for her; did she expect him to give up being himself as well, to beg forgiveness for being the God of War? He had told her from the start that he didn't know Livia was Eve, had tried to explain himself, and it still wasn't enough. What had he done, really? He had spotted a young woman brave enough, skilled enough, ruthless enough to be his special warrior ‑- took her under his wing and to his bed -- nothing he hadn't done many times before.

Except that sometimes, when he thought about it, it wasn't anger but something else burning inside him. He remembered how Xena looked when he told her those things about Livia, her face unflinching, the way it would be if she were being whipped. There was another time -- another lifetime, it seemed -- when he had seen that look on her face. She stood very still looking at rows of crosses -- her daughter's bloody harvest -- and he taunted her about it, wanting her to hurt as he was hurting, unerringly hitting the spot where it hurt the worst: the fear that she had an evil inside her which she had passed on to her child. She's my daughter, you sick bastard. -- Why do you think it was so easy to turn her?

He had other memories, too, while riding by her side or trying to get comfortable in his bedroll at night: memories of warm smiles and tender looks, of the feather-soft touch of her hands on his face, of her delight in the pleasure they gave each other. Thinking about that made it worse. After all the pain he had caused her, she had given him a chance, and so much else… and he had hurt her again, hurt her so cruelly, for no reason at all, except that her anger frightened him and he struck back.

He had to talk to her, he knew that; only, of course they were never alone. It was bad enough that Gabrielle was always there -- he was used to it -- but a couple of times, he caught her staring at him and blushing, and found himself looking away too quickly. That was the last thing he needed right now, to let her get to him.

Finally, waking up at daybreak one morning, he saw that Xena wasn't in her bedroll; he looked around in the bluish-gray haze of dawn and saw her slipping into her tunic at the edge of the small stream by which they were camping. He got up, stiff and achy all over -- he had fallen asleep in his leathers the night before, exhausted from a full day of riding -- and hobbled toward her. She stood up straight and looked at him, her face rigid.

Ares knelt down, splashed some water on his face and neck and swirled it around in his mouth; it was wretchedly cold but at least it snapped him into full consciousness. He rose and forced himself to look at Xena. He wasn't sure if the chill he felt was from the water or from being near her.

After a few moments she turned away and moved to walk back to the campsite.

"Wait," he said hoarsely.

"What?"

"I -- " he paused to clear his throat. He could barely hear himself speak over the pounding in his ears. "I guess I really messed up, huh?"

Xena stared at him thoughtfully; then, the corners of her mouth curved up a little.

"Is that your way of telling me you're sorry?"

"Uh-huh." He fidgeted, tugging at his vest. "Those things I said -- I -- "

She sighed. "Were they -- true?"

"Yeah … they were."

"Then why should you be sorry," she said flatly. There was no anger in her voice this time, just a dull pain.

"Xena. It wasn't your fault. I'm -- dammit -- " He fumbled for words, and as she watched him, her eyes seemed to soften. "I'm … I'm sorry for -- everything, okay? Sorry about being such a -- "

" -- bastard?"

He glanced at her quickly -- was she angry again? -- and saw that almost-smile coming back.

"Uh … yeah. Look -- I'm doing the best I can here -- okay?"

Xena shook her head, a what am I going to do with you kind of headshake, and then reached out and stroked his cheek. Her hand was cold from the water but her touch still made him feel warm, and he breathed easier. He put his hand over hers, then slowly turned his head, closing his eyes, pressing his face into her slightly damp palm.

"Okay," she whispered.

They stood like this for a while, until she gently pulled her hand back, smoothing his hair, and said again, "Okay...."

His heart skipped a beat and his mouth was dry. Still, he managed to smile, and so did she; at least it was the closest to a smile that he had seen on her face since the morning she had received Varia's message. Then she squeezed his arm and said, "Come on. Let's go gather some firewood."

* ~ * ~ *

As always, the Amazon patrol appeared out of nowhere; or rather, the women who swooped down on the narrow forest path seemed to have been born of the trees themselves, as if the thick dark foliage had woven itself into four slender, muscular shapes.

After an uncomfortably long moment, a brown-haired, olive-skinned woman who looked vaguely familiar said, "Queen Gabrielle," bowing her head. The women lowered their spears.

Gabrielle had stayed ahead of her two companions ever since they had entered Amazon lands. For hours now, they had been riding through these woods, where even the day was dusky and the damp smell of mushrooms hung in the air; the path, overgrown and strewn with skeletal branches, was barely wide enough for a single rider.

"Xena," the woman said with a slight nod, then paused as her eyes lingered on Ares, and finally looked back to Gabrielle. "Greetings, Queen Gabrielle. We'll take you to Varia."

As they moved on at a slow trot, their escorts walking by their side, Gabrielle noticed that one of the Amazons, a curly-headed blonde, was dressed according to the custom of Cyane's tribe, in a long-sleeved, fringed tan shirt decorated with criss-cross strips of brown leather; yet another, a tawny woman with multicolored beads in her braids, didn't look like any Amazon she had seen before. Xena was evidently thinking the same thing, because she asked, "You're from the Northern tribes, aren't you? What are you doing this far south?"

"The tribes have united." The woman paused and added, "Under Varia's leadership."

Gabrielle was shocked and, somehow, stung by the news. Who would have thought Varia had it in her? And why had Varia never bothered to send her word of this? Or maybe it was her own fault, for neglecting the Amazons while drowning in the mess her life had become.

After a while the path widened and the trees become more sparse, letting in the pale sky and the fading sunlight, and then they rode out of the forest and onto the slope of a hill. The Amazon village lay below, its thatched huts surrounded by a vast encampment of tents, wisps of bluish smoke floating up from the bonfires.

As they rode downhill, Gabrielle wondered, wearily and fleetingly, if she might have been better off here.

She looked at Xena, whose calm appearance was belied by the tightness of her jaw, and felt a familiar pang at the thought of what Xena had to be going through. Unable to stop her gaze from drifting over to Ares, she noticed his fingers tapping on the hilt of his sword. In the next instant, she intercepted a glance -- unfriendly if slightly awed -- directed at him by the dark-haired woman who had greeted them. The woman had probably been around when Ares' army attacked the Amazons in his mad quest for ambrosia. Did Varia really, as Xena suspected, have something unpleasant in store for him? Well, it would be nothing he didn't deserve… at least Eve had genuinely repented, while Ares … well, Ares was -- Ares.

Disconcertingly, the memory of that morning when he brought Sappho's scroll back to her surfaced again. She remembered the odd way he looked at her; not with sympathy, maybe, but at least with understanding. Damn. She didn't want his sympathy or understanding, or anything else that would make it harder to dislike him. That was probably why he had brought her the scroll in the first place, to worm his way into her sympathy like the manipulative bastard he'd always been. Not for the first time, she felt herself flushing at the thought that he had read the poem, had guessed what it meant to her. It was as if he'd seen her naked … No. That was one place where she was not going.

They rode through the camp under the curious, somewhat nervous stares of hundreds of women, and then down the main street of the village until they reached the square. Varia, in a feathered ceremonial headdress that made her face look small and almost ratlike, stood waiting for them on a waist-high platform under a wooden painted statue of Artemis, with several other queens at her side. A cluster of young pines rose behind them, their narrow tops gilded by the sunset. The banners of the Amazon tribes, mounted on wooden poles over the platform, billowed gently in the breeze.

"Gabrielle." Varia inclined her head with a respectfully neutral air.

After a moment's hesitation, Gabrielle dismounted, with Xena and Ares following her example, and stepped up toward the platform.

"Varia."

"And Xena. Good to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same." Xena's voice had the cold sharpness of a blade. "I want to see my daughter."

"All in due time."

"Well, that due time better be sooner than later, because I'm not leaving here without her."

Gabrielle felt a dizzy rush of panic.

"Xena…" she whispered, gingerly reaching out to touch Xena's hand. "I know you want to save Eve, but these are our friends -- so let's keep it that way, all right?"

For a moment she wasn't sure Xena had even heard her. Then Xena nodded, never turning her head.

"Livia was banished from our lands under threat of death." Varia's voice rose, her mask of composure slipping momentarily.

"Eve," Gabrielle said. "Her name is Eve."

"Changing her name does not change her crimes."

"Queen Marga already passed judgment on those crimes," Xena retorted.

"And decreed that she would be executed if she ever returned to Amazon lands. She did ‑- with a guard of Roman soldiers, no less."

Xena was about to say something else when one of the queens standing next to Varia, a swarthy woman with almond-shaped eyes and a wide flattened nose, spoke up. "This is an Amazon council, Xena. You have no prerogative to be heard here."

Gabrielle flinched. "Now, wait -- "

"We recognize your right to speak, Queen Gabrielle," said another queen, a statuesque redhead in a kilt.

"Xena is here with me. She has a right to defend her daughter before the council."

"Fine," Varia said. "We're ready for the trial. We'll start…" She glanced at the glowing orange disc floating low over the hills. "… as soon as the sun has set. That should give you time to rest and get ready for your defense. Thanais" -- she nodded toward the brown-haired Amazon who had met them in the woods -- "will show you to your quarters."

"I'll see my daughter first."

"You'll see her at the trial. You do not give the orders here, Xena."

"I'll see her now." Xena's hand went to the chakram on her belt. There were scattered gasps, and some of the Amazons standing by the platform reached for their swords or spears. Gabrielle felt as if she were watching the world crumble around her, helpless to do anything about it.

"Xena… " Imploringly, she grabbed Xena's elbow. "Xena, please, please -- "

Xena took a deep breath and looked down, her fists clenched. Finally, she said, "All right."

Some of the tension lifted tangibly from the crowd, as if it had breathed a huge, inaudible sigh of relief.

"Come with me," Thanais said imperturbably.

Gabrielle was about to turn and follow her when Varia said, "Take him."

By the time Gabrielle realized that she was talking to the Amazons and referring to Ares, the former God of War was already staring incredulously at several swords and spears pointed at his chest.

"You've got to be kidding," he said.

Xena looked at Varia, her eyes narrowing.

"What is this?" Her voice seethed with barely controlled rage.

"Ares will be tried along with Livia for his crimes against the Amazons."

"You said you wanted me to bring him as a witness."

"Oh, he'll be a witness all right."

"Varia…" Xena paused. "This isn't right."

"Our sisters were slaughtered and enslaved; that wasn't right, either." Varia's voice shook on the word "sisters" but then picked up, ringing clear through the square, and Gabrielle heard an approving murmur from the Amazons. "With your talents, Xena, I'm sure you can defend two murderers as well as one."

Ares, whose hand was frozen less than a finger's length away from the hilt of his sword, looked questioningly at Xena. She stood still and straight, her own hands rigid, as if it took a supreme effort to keep them off her weapons. Gabrielle wanted to say something, do something, but it seemed as if the least noise or movement could make the dense, taut silence explode into disaster. Then, with a sigh, Xena shook her head almost imperceptibly. Ares' lips twitched slightly, and he lowered his hand.

Varia looked on, a little smugness creeping into her smile. Her quiet voice broke the silence.

"Take him away."

* ~ * ~ *

Ares was barely able to suppress a shudder as the manacles snapped shut on his wrists. There was something about that sound, about the cold heavy feel of the iron bracelets, that made one aware of one's mortality in a special and very nasty way.

He had to trust Xena, he told himself as he was marched off the square, two women at his sides, three more behind. Humiliating as it was to be taken like this without a fight -- and especially to let the bitches take his sword, dagger and gauntlets ‑- it was the smart thing to do under the circumstances. Xena would have a plan; everything would be all right.

The Amazon on his left clamped her hand on his arm, startling him out of his reflections; without thinking, Ares turned his head and snapped, "Don't touch me," and the woman shrank back, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. That made him feel a little better.

They walked up to a cabin on the edge of the village, obviously meant to serve as the jail ‑- with not one but two massive grimy bolts on the door and a barred window; the bars must have been intended mainly to make a point, since the window was so tiny that only a very unusual prisoner, say a child or a midget, could have possibly used it to escape. The two guards who sat by the door, their spears rested against the wall, looked up from some board game they were playing and eyed him with a rather disappointing indifference. Then, one of them lifted an eyebrow.

"What, we put him in with her?"

"It's only 'til sundown," said one of the women escorting Ares. "They both go on trial tonight."

The guard nodded, rose to her feet and pushed the bolts aside with a loud grating sound. As he stepped toward the door, Ares realized, with a queasy anxiety, that the "her" they were talking about was Eve. He stopped abruptly.

"What, you need a special invitation?" the guard jeered. The other women laughed, though somewhat uneasily. The thought of being shoved or hauled inside was unpleasant enough to propel him through the door. It shut behind him with a hard clang.

The smell of food that hit Ares' nostrils reminded him that it had been hours since his last meal. A spasm of hunger clutched at his stomach, even though the smell wasn't particularly appetizing and the surroundings even less so; the stale air inside carried, among other odors, the unmistakable whiff of a latrine. The room was bare except for a pallet by one of the walls, and a jug and a couple of dishes next to it.

Then he saw the girl standing by the window, wearing an olive-green top and a long skirt. She seemed thinner than the last time he had seen her, her hair unkempt; when she turned to him, her face looked almost ashen in the shadows.

Looking away would be too cowardly.

He expected to see some shock in her expression, but her eyes remained dull.

"What are you doing here?"

He wasn't sure why her question made him feel such a violent surge of anger; or maybe it was the listless, barely audible voice in which it was asked.

"You know, I could ask you the same question."

She sighed and moved a strand of hair away from her face, then walked to the pallet and sat down, hugging her knees.

"Is Mother here?"

"Yeah," he said, leaning against the wall.

Eve sighed again. "So they're putting us both on trial. Tonight."

"Were you crazy, coming here?"

"The Emperor Claudius was looking for someone to send as a peace envoy to the Amazons," she said in a flat voice, as if reciting a history lesson. "Caligula had threatened them. Claudius wanted them to know that Rome no longer means them any harm."

"And Claudius couldn't find an envoy who hadn't been banned from Amazon lands under pain of death?"

"I volunteered."

He rolled his eyes. "What part of 'come back here and you're dead meat' don't you understand?"

"I'm prepared to die for my crimes."

"Oh. Well, excuse me if I'm not."

Eve sat up, her features suddenly animated.

"You could make peace with it," she said. "If you accepted the God of Love into your heart …"

Surely she wasn't going to start with this crap? That was all he needed ‑- to have his ex-protégée … or whatever … preaching at him. He got a vivid image of Livia in her dazzling armor and blood-red cloak, smiling as she yanked her sword out of some fool unlucky enough to be in its way. At least she wasn't a sniveling twit back then.

"Hey. Did they whack you on the head a little too hard when they got you? This is me, Ares -- does 'God of War' ring any bells? I don't think you want to talk to me about your God."

"His love has room for everyone. Even you."

He had a strong desire to grab those bony shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled and her brain got unscrambled.

"You know, maybe you got a point there." He continued as she gave him a wary look, "You keep carrying on like this, and I probably won't mind dying too much. Hell, I may beg them to put me out of my misery."

Her shoulders sagging, she turned away with another dramatic sigh. Maybe now she'd shut up and let him get a little rest before this damn trial.

There was no place to sit except on the wooden floor; it was slightly damp and smelled of mold, just like the pockmarked wall he leaned back against, but it would have to do. He stared into the ceiling, trying not to think about Eve, or about food -- or about the trial.

"You can sit here."

Her voice gave him a start.

"Huh?"

"You can have the pallet. You can sit here. Or lie down if you want."

Ares considered the offer, weighing the disadvantage of sitting on the cold hard floor against the disadvantage of sitting in close proximity to Eve. Finally, he got up, walked over to her and sat down. His eyes fell on the dishes next to the pallet, a plate with a large piece of flat bread and a bowl half-full of some kind of stew.

"I'm not going to finish it," she said. "You can have that too if you're hungry."

She was probably just trying to impress him with her newfound spirit of love and forgiveness -- besides, it galled him to know that she had noticed him looking hungrily at her leftovers -- but dammit, it was tempting.

A few moments later he had finished the bread and was cleaning up the last of the stew; actually, slop was a more fitting word, but at least it quelled the pangs in his stomach. The chain of his manacles left him some freedom of movement but, holding the bowl on his knees, he had to crouch over it so that he could lift the spoon up to his mouth. He looked at Eve, her slender profile sharp against the darkening window. It occurred to him that he should probably thank her.

"Are you sleeping with my mother?"

The question nearly made him choke. With some difficulty, he swallowed the lump of stew stuck in his throat and grabbed the jug to wash it down; the abrupt movement caused the chain on his hands to swipe the now-empty clay bowl and sent it crashing to the floor. Eve didn't even flinch at the sound.

"What the hell sort of question is that?" he rasped.

Eve turned to him, and he noticed a strange glitter in her eye, as if a bit of Livia had come back for a moment.

"I think it's a pretty simple one. Are you -- "

"Yeah, yeah, I got you. I just don't see why I should be discussing it with you."

"So you are," she said quietly.

He took another gulp of water.

"It doesn't matter, you know," she said. "Gabrielle will always come first for her."

Damn -- they didn't call her the Bitch of Rome for nothing. Glancing at Eve again, Ares expected to see gloating over a well-aimed hit, but she wasn't even smiling; she stared into the distance, her face full of sadness and longing, though he wasn't sure for what. There was no use trying to figure her out. The girl was nuts.

She shivered and looked at him.

"Did you ever love me?"

Oh shit -- not that too. Love? What love? There had never been any question of love between them, just business. Well, business and pleasure. He'd been a little fond of her in a way, and proud of her as a star pupil -- but --

"You know what?" he said. "I think I'd rather talk about your God."

She snorted. "Cut the crap, Ares." After a long pause, she shook her head. "I know the answer, anyway. I've always come second." She hugged her knees again, burying her face in her stained, tattered skirt.

Then it hit him. It wasn't about him at all, it was about Xena; everything came back to Xena in the end.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I know the feeling."

Ares wasn't sure that she heard him, or that he wanted her to. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

After a while he said, "She'll get us out."

Eve remained silent, and when he opened his eyes she still sat huddled in the same position, her face hidden.

* ~ * ~ *

Gabrielle had wondered why Varia had decided to hold the trial at night -- maybe because the proceedings had a more solemn air, almost like a sacred ceremony, in the wavering torchlight that flooded the main square. She sat on the platform with Varia and the three other queens: Gwyn-Teir, the redhead; Cyane, her namesake's successor, with a kind round face and silvery-blonde tresses; and Kanae, the dark-skinned, flat-nosed woman who had earlier admonished Xena about speaking at an Amazon council.

" … and more than two hundred were taken as slaves," said Varia, who was taking her time reciting the catalogue of Livia's misdeeds. Eve, who had been brought from the jail with Ares, stood below; the shackles on her thin wrists made her look fragile and almost waifish -- too frail to bear the weight of these chains, the weight of these crimes. It was hard to tell from the expression on her haggard face whether she was determined to bear it bravely, or was simply resigned to her fate. Ares didn't seem to be paying much attention to Varia's indictment; his eyes kept wandering about the square and then back to Xena as he mechanically fingered his manacles and poked at the dusty ground with the tip of his boot. Xena stood next to Ares and Eve -- it was unsettling to be separated from her like this, to be above her and not by her side at such a time -- but she wasn't looking at either of them, or at Varia. Her eyes were hooded, her arms folded on her chest. The torchlight gave her hair and her leathers an eerie orange sheen and made the chakram at her belt gleam scarlet.

Gabrielle lowered her head and sighed; she couldn't forget Xena's quietly stricken look when she first saw Eve. At least, she reflected with relief, Varia hadn't mentioned anything about captured Amazons being thrown overboard during the transport, so she probably didn't know about it. Or maybe Ares had made it up. Maybe he was trying to make himself look better, to downplay his role in goading Livia to her evil deeds by inventing a crime she had supposedly committed without his instigation. That would be just like Ares.

"There is not one woman in my tribe," Varia went on, "who has not lost several loved ones in Livia's raid. We've lost mothers, daughters, friends, sisters." She paused, bracing herself. "My own sister, Tura, was cut down by Livia's hand before my eyes…"

So it wasn't just the good of the nation for Varia, it was personal. With a sinking feeling, Gabrielle looked at Eve and saw a grimace of pain cross her face. A gasp ran through the assembled crowd.

"This woman admitted her crimes before, when she was banished by the late Queen Marga. She has admitted them again, when she returned to Amazon lands in violation of Marga's edict. She has confessed that she wanted to capture Amazons to bring to Rome as gladiators, and profit from their blood." Varia looked out at the hushed crowd and, after a moment, resumed. "But Livia didn't act alone. She had the help of her patron god --" her voice rose triumphantly -- "Ares, God of War."

Varia paused again, somewhat longer than required for dramatic effect, and addressed Ares -- who, at the moment, looked tired, disheveled and very un-godlike, with dark circles under his eyes from the swaying shadows.

"Ares. Did you order Livia's raids on the Amazons?"

Ares shrugged. "I gave her the idea."

"You gave her the idea," Varia repeated loudly enough for the crowd to hear, causing murmurs to ripple through the square. "And what did Livia say? Did she object? Was she reluctant?"

A corner of Ares' mouth hitched up, as if he were about to sneer ("Livia? Reluctant? Yeah, right"). Gabrielle tensed. It occurred to her that Ares had a chance to save his own hide by making Eve out to be as blameworthy as possible -- and that Xena's best chance to save Eve was to make Ares look guilty. Poor Xena, having to choose between her daughter and… It would have been so much easier if Ares had been a god, beyond the reach of the Amazons' vengeance; she and Xena could have easily argued that it was all his fault. And lied to bail out Eve?

Eve's voice cut into her jumbled thoughts. "No. I did not object."

Focusing on the trial once again, Gabrielle saw Xena look almost helplessly back and forth from Eve to Ares.

"She didn't," Ares said quietly.

"You were once a patron god of the Amazons. Our foremothers sacrificed to you; some of our greatest queens were your own daughters. Yet you betrayed us. You -- you sent your whore to slaughter and enslave our people!"

"Now, wait just a minute -- " Xena growled.

"Mother -- don't." There was a sudden firmness in Eve's voice. "She didn't say anything I don't deserve."

"Why did you do it?" That was Varia, still addressing Ares. Gabrielle caught herself hoping he wouldn't use the word "fun."

"The Amazons are a nation of warriors. They hadn't had a real war in a long time. I thought it would do them some good."

There was a distinctly hostile rumble in the crowd.

"So when you had us attacked by an army that outnumbered us three to one, you were doing us a favor." Varia's voice was too shrill to be sarcastic.

Xena shot Ares a warning look.

"I believed that -- the Amazons were strong enough to take on Livia."

"Really." Varia glared at him. "But that's not all. A year ago, when you were already mortal, you came here with an army here to attack us -- to destroy our forests, to kill our sisters, for no reason at all. Was that for our own good as well?"

Ares stared back silently, with glum defiance. Gabrielle wasn't sure what would feel worse for him, to be held guilty of those acts or to admit that he, a former god, had been driven to babbling insanity.

"You know very well that Ares wasn't himself then," Xena said. "The Furies had driven him mad."

"So you say." Varia raised her voice again. "Amazons! Both Livia and Ares admit their crimes against our people; all that remains is to determine the proper punishment. But first, the council must vote on their guilt -- even if it isn't really in doubt."

She stepped back, took her seat in the center of the semicircle of queens, and looked at the other members of the council.

"How do you vote?"

Once again, Gabrielle had the dizzying sensation of the world coming apart around her and the broken pieces floating away. Was there any way that she could, in good conscience, vote not guilty?

"Before we start," Cyane said quietly, "Queen Gabrielle, you know what the rules are, don't you?"

For a moment her tongue refused to move. "The -- the rules?"

"If the accused is found guilty, only those council members who voted guilty are allowed to vote on the penalty."

"No," Gabrielle whispered. "No, I didn't know."

Now, she had no choice. That felt better.

"How do you vote?" Varia repeated.

"Guilty," said Gwyn-Teir.

She was echoed by Kanae and Cyane, and then all eyes turned to Gabrielle. She felt Xena's stare as well, and realized that Xena wouldn't know -- at least not immediately -- why she was voting this way. She couldn't resist turning to look at Xena, and then, to her horror, found herself unable to tear her eyes away; and so she and Xena were still staring at each other when she forced herself to say, "Guilty."

Xena's eyes widened, first in anger and then in hurt.

"Guilty." Varia was the last to speak. She rose again and walked toward the edge of the platform. "The judgment is made. By the unanimous vote of the council, Ares and Livia are both guilty as charged."

Xena blinked, as if coming out of a daze, and turned away. Gabrielle was finally able to shift her eyes to Eve, who looked like she wanted only for all this to be over, and to Ares, who was darting worried glances at Xena.

"Xena, you speak in their defense," Varia said. "Can you show us a reason why these two should not be put do death for their crimes?"

"Yes." Xena paused, her hands clasped together. "Yes, I can. Varia -- queens of the Amazon Nation -- you know that my daughter is not who she was when she committed those crimes against you. You want to put Livia to death? Livia is already dead. This is Eve. For the past year, she has dedicated her life to bringing the message of love and peace to people -- she has risked her life to do it. She came here, knowing that she was risking her life, to bring you a message of peace. And Ares… Varia, it was Ares, God of War who sent Livia to attack you. That Ares is just as dead as Livia." Ares flinched and stared down; his manacles jangled slightly as he clenched his fists. "This Ares is -- just a man. Killing them will be revenge, not justice."

Varia laughed harshly. "So that's your defense? They're both dead already? I wish our dead were so dead."

"Kill them!" cried out a voice somewhere in the square, and another low rumble rolled over the crowd. With a satisfied smile, Varia waited for it to die down, and then resumed.

"Xena, you can tell us all you want that they're what they were. They still haven't paid for what they did to our people."

"You think so? Varia, every day, my daughter lives with the knowledge of what she did. That's a high price to pay."

"And Ares? Don't tell me he's consumed with remorse."

Xena lowered her eyes. "Ares will live the rest of his life as a mortal. Think about it, Varia. Imagine what it's like after you've been a god -- to feel pain and hunger and sickness …" Ares shifted his feet and twitched his shoulder, as if a part of him wanted to stop her. "… to have to struggle for survival from day to day…"

"It's how we all live," said Gwyn-Teir.

"So he lost his powers," Varia said. "That doesn't atone for anything he's done."

After a brief silence, Xena said, with an obvious effort, "Ares didn't just lose his powers. He gave them up to -- do a good deed."

The look on Ares' face was one of near-panic, and Gabrielle wondered if he would rather die than have the story of how he became mortal told before an audience.

"What good deed?"

Xena met Ares' frantic, almost pleading stare and turned to Varia again. She sighed.

"He -- he did it to right a wrong he had done. I can't tell you more than that."

Gabrielle saw the queens exchange skeptical glances and realized that she had to speak up.

"It's true," she said. "Xena's telling you the truth."

"Even so," Varia said, "it wasn't to right any wrongs he had done to the Amazons. So maybe he's done something good, and so has Livia, or whatever she calls herself these days. That doesn't bring back any of the people we lost."

"Killing them won't bring back your dead, either," Xena said.

"No, it won't -- but it's just retribution for their deaths. To hear you tell it, Xena, letting these two live is punishment enough. If that were true, would you be trying so hard to keep them alive?"

Xena took a deep breath and looked away, the rigidity of her features softening into a quiet anguish.

"Varia," she said, turning back to the queen, "let me ask you one thing. Is there a single way in which killing Ares and Eve will benefit the Amazon nation?"

"Yes, there is." Varia's voice rang with triumph, as if she'd been waiting for this question all along. "If we punish them to the full extent of our law, it will send a message to anyone else who would lift a sword against the Amazons: harm our own -- and this is how you'll be dealt with." As a new wave of murmurings surged in the square, she went on, "For generations now, we've been a nation in decline, no longer feared, no longer respected. But that will change -- once the entire known world learns that the Amazons brought down the Bitch of Rome and the God of War!"

The rumble exploded into a deafening roar. Xena tried to say something, but even a town crier could not have made himself heard over this noise.

When some semblance of quiet was restored, Varia said, "We'll vote on the sentence."

Gabrielle looked on, feeling as if she were trapped in a nightmare, and the shimmering of the torches was a thick fog that wouldn't let her move. She closed her eyes -- and then, in a burst of light, saw something that should have been in front of her all along.

"Wait," she said, her voice unexpectedly strong.

When she opened her eyes, the four queens were staring at her.

"Well?" Varia said.

"There's something all of you need to know. We have been judging Eve by the laws that apply to outsiders who commit crimes against Amazons -- isn't that right?"

"Of course," said Cyane. "How else should we judge her?"

"As an Amazon," Gabrielle said. "Because she is one."

This was followed by the predictable splash of gasps and cries, and the ripple of whispers as the astonishing news was passed along to those in the back of the crowd. Xena's eyes flashed with hope, while Eve's look of passive acceptance gave way to one of utter horror.

Varia, her face tight, was the first to speak. "What are you talking about?"

"Twenty-six years ago -- when Eve was just a baby -- Xena and I stayed with the Northern Amazons for a while," Gabrielle said. "Cyane, it was during your mother's rule."

"Yes, my mother told me."

"While we were there, Eve was given an Amazon baptism, according to the rites of your tribe. Not only that, but I gave her my own right of caste."

"So now she's an Amazon princess?" Varia jeered. "Do you have any evidence to support this story?"

Gabrielle felt the blood rush to her face. "Are you saying that I'm lying?"

Kanae shook her head. "Queen Gabrielle, I'm sorry if we can't take your word for it -- but we know that you want to save your friend's daughter. Is there anyone other than you and Xena who can confirm this?"

"I can."

Everyone turned toward the speaker, a stocky woman in the colors of Cyane's tribe who stood in the front row of the crowd.

"I was there," the woman said. "I was just a kid myself then, ten years old. But I remember."

After the noise had died down, Varia said angrily, "So what? What does it change? If anything, it makes her crimes worse -- the Amazons she butchered were her own people!"

Eve swayed and would have fallen if Xena hadn't rushed to her side. She leaned on her mother's shoulder and sobbed quietly while Xena stroked her matted hair.

"But the law is different, Varia," Gwyn-Teir said hesitantly. "Amazons have killed other Amazons before. Our law says that the guilty one must be given a chance to make restitution to the tribe -- and only if she refuses can she be punished with death or banishment."

"Restitution? What restitution? She and her army killed hundreds!"

"I know a way." Xena looked up, her hand still resting on Eve's head. "She could bring back the Amazons she enslaved. Eve…" She pulled away and gently lifted Eve's chin, so that her wet face shone softly in the torchlight. "How many Amazons did you sell to the gladiatorial colleges?"

Eve shook her head. "I'm -- I'm not sure" -- she sniffled -- "about two hundred?"

Xena turned to Varia again. "Most of them must still be alive; there aren't many gladiators in Rome who could beat fighters like that. If you let Eve live and claim her place among you, she could lead a mission to Rome -- to bring them back."

After a long pause filled with the hissing of torches and the hum of the crowd, Gwyn-Teir spoke up. "I would agree to that."

"So would I," said Cyane.

"I'm not sure there is forgiveness for what she did," Kanae said thoughtfully. "But if we can free our sisters…"

Varia threw her head back. "We can free our sisters ourselves!"

"Varia," Gabrielle said, "to go up against Rome would be suicide."

Varia gave her a look filled with raw hatred. "So you are all prepared to spare her life?"

The response from the other queens, and from the women who filled the square, was an uncomfortable silence that evidently meant assent.

"Very well then -- there is one more thing you should know. Something that I didn't want to mention unless I had to -- because it was -- too horrible." Before she said another word, Gabrielle knew, hopelessly, what was coming. "One of our sisters who was taken away in Livia's raid made her way back to us. Terpi! Come up here."

As the crowd parted, Gabrielle forced herself to look at Xena. Her face was rigidly impassive again, her mouth frozen in a straight line, her arm stiff around Eve's hunched shoulders. The woman who emerged from the throng, tall with red-tinted brown hair, gave them both a look of undisguised loathing as she passed by. Her right arm hung awkwardly at her side.

"Tell us what you know," Varia said as Terpi mounted the platform and turned to face the Amazons.

"Some of the Amazons Livia had captured," Terpi said, "were injured in the battle. I was one of them; a Roman spear had shattered my arm, just above the elbow. On the ship, when they were taking us to Rome, a physician came to examine the wounded, and to determine which of us would be unfit to fight again." She paused, lowering her head.

"Go on."

"Then, an officer and some soldiers came and took all those who'd been pronounced unfit -- about a dozen of us. They brought us up to the deck and then…"

"What did they do, Terpi?" Varia was clearly making an effort to speak gently, but the anger and impatience in her voice broke through.

"They … " Terpi let out a hoarse sob. "They started throwing the women overboard!"

There was a hush, and then a long gasp from the crowd that turned into a groan.

"You saw this with your own eyes?" asked Gwyn-Teir.

"I saw it. I heard them scream as they hit the water -- still in chains -- "

"Yet you survived," Gwyn-Teir said doubtfully.

"I did." Terpi's gaze hardened into defiance. "I won't hold anything back. I'm alive because an officer who was there decided I was good enough to keep as his whore until the ship got back to Italy. 'Shame to let the sharks have such a nice piece of meat,'" she spat out. "Those were his words. Once we had landed, I managed to escape."

"Was Livia there?" Gwyn-Teir asked. "Do you know that she ordered this?"

Terpi shrugged. "I didn't see her on the deck. But one of the soldiers said, 'We've got orders.' Who else could have ordered it?"

Xena's face never moved, but her eyes sparkled with tears. Eve stood up straight, as if knowing that she was doomed had given her resolve.

Varia spoke up. "Amazon or no Amazon -- there is no forgiveness for this. This wasn't killing in battle; it was brutal cold-blooded murder. The only proper penalty is death."

The other queens nodded.

"Are we ready to vote?" Varia asked.

"Hold on."

At the sound of Ares' voice, Gabrielle looked up with a start.

"She didn't give those orders," Ares said. "I did."

The dreamlike fog thickened around Gabrielle again, and it was through this fog that she heard the cries of the Amazons -- and saw the stunned expression on Xena's face and Eve's look of dismayed confusion, and the hint of a strange smile on Ares' lips as he looked at Xena -- and watched Terpi come down from the platform and spit in Ares' face before disappearing back into the crowd -- and listened as five voices, one of them her own, voted to let Eve stay with the Amazons and lead a mission to Rome to bring back her former captives. Even Varia went along, though her "Yes" had a distinctly sour note.

"As for Ares," Varia said. Xena, who had squeezed Eve in a tight hug, raised her head sharply. "There are two options. Death or banishment."

"Death," said Cyane.

"Death," said Gwyn-Teir.

"Death," said Kanae.

Xena's eyelids flickered at each repetition.

Gabrielle shook her head feebly and muttered, "I -- I abstain."

Varia glanced at her scornfully.

"Death," she said, and then took a step toward the edge of the platform. "Ares, former God of War. You have been tried and sentenced to death for your crimes against the Amazons..."

"Varia." Gabrielle found her voice again. "He -- he confessed of his own free will -- doesn't that deserve some mercy?"

Varia glared at her with exasperation.

"Mercy? All right." She turned back to Ares. "Your death will be quick and painless and ‑- honorable. Tomorrow at noon, you die by beheading."

Ares shook his head, as if he too were trying to wake up from some foggy nightmare.

"Take him back to the jail."

As two Amazons led Ares away, the silence was so complete that every step they made and every clink of his chains seemed to echo through the square. He turned back once to look at Xena.

Varia spoke again. "This is over."

"Not yet," Xena said. "I know Amazon law, Varia. A challenger is allowed to fight you for his life."

The crowd stirred again.

"So who's going to challenge me?" Varia asked.

Wearily, Gabrielle rose; she knew exactly what Xena had in mind, and she really had no choice but to go along.

"I am." She paused. "Xena will fight as my champion."

"No, she won't. She's not an Amazon."

Xena's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? The first time Gabrielle and I met your tribe, I fought Queen Melosa as Gabrielle's champion for the life of a centaur named Phantes -- "

"That was a long time ago," Varia said. "A lot has changed since then. Under the law, Gabrielle, you either fight yourself or ask another Amazon to be your champion." She snorted. "I doubt you'll find many volunteers. Or else forget the whole thing."

Xena stood very still, obviously pondering her next move. Wind gusted through the square, flapping at the Amazon banners over the platform, making the flaming tongues of the torches lap at the night air.

Gabrielle looked at Xena. The fog had cleared, and now she knew what she had to do. She wasn't sure why, as yet, but the reasons would come to her later.

"Varia," she said. "I use my right to challenge."

« CHAPTERS 3, 4 & 5        CHAPTER 8 »