"I’m outta here," the warrior said pulling open the wooden panel. "I’ll see you ..." she turned back to the little bard. "I’ll see you when you’re done. I’m going to take Argo for a run. Her foot’s healed and we can both use the ... exercise." She winked at the girl and left the hut, smiling openly.
Outside, she came upon a very nervous Musaeus. She felt slightly embarrassed when the young man stiffened and took a step back as she approached. Donning her best smile, Xena put a friendly hand on the youngster’s shoulder.
"I owe you an apology, Musaeus," the tall woman said, her eyes sincere. Musaeus relaxed somewhat. "I don’t blame you. Gabrielle means more to me than anyone I’ve ever known. I guess I can’t hold it against you if you feel the same."
A sheepish smile lit the faintly blushing young face. Musaeus lowered his eyes from the knowing blue gaze, then returned her focus. Xena removed her hand and stepped out of the young man’s path.
"Better get back to work," she said, motioning toward the little hut with her thumb. "Go ahead, she’s waiting." The warm smile widened and the young bard responded in a likewise manner. He took a tentative stride past the warrior. When he had passed her, he turned to meet her gaze again.
"She’s really special, isn’t she?" he remarked quietly. "You’re very lucky, Xena. She’s very loyal to you." Then he turned and walked resolutely toward the hut.
Xena stared after the young man for a long moment. ‘Now why do I have the feeling you don’t really mean that, you handsome devil?’ the warrior thought to herself. Then she turned away and moved toward the stables.
~~~~~~~~~~
Argo whinnied happily when Xena entered the barn. The warrior reached over the rails of the stall to rub the horse’s long face. When she bent to examine the hoof in question and found the medicinal bandage absent, she could also see the edge of a bright new horseshoe gleaming under each of Argo’s feet. The smithy had been true to his word; the injured foot had healed so he had reattached the new shoes. The horse was now fit, and it appeared as ready as her mistress was, for that long-awaited ride they’d both been looking forward to.
Xena led Argo out of the stall and pulled the familiar bridle over the horse’s head. The mare accepted the bit into her mouth and the warrior removed the halter, hanging it on a nearby peg in the thick post near the stall. She laid the accustomed blanket on the horse’s back and lifted the saddle into place. As Xena reached under the horse’s belly to grasp the girth strap, she heard the blacksmith’s approach behind her. She turned to greet the man.
"I see you got the shoes back on. Thanks, the foot looks great," she told him and the smithy’s wide smile answered hers. Xena reached into the belt of her leathers. "How much do I owe you now?"
The blacksmith hesitated, about to suggest that the warrior’s payment wasn’t necessary, but when he saw the determined look invade the clear blue eyes, he reconsidered his plan. He concentrated on rubbing the soot and dirt from his hands for a moment, then looked back up to meet the woman’s gaze.
"Four dinars," he said firmly, setting his jaw at the surprised look on the tall warrior’s face. Her eyes studied his for another long moment. She drew out the four dinars and dropped them in her other hand. Then she leveled a crooked smirk at the man’s calm expression.
"That’s for the shoes. What about the healing for her foot?"
The smithy swallowed and let a slow smile answer the one growing on the woman’s face.
"It’s a package deal," he said finally, trying in vain to keep his expression noncommittal. "Who knows, maybe she cut her foot in here someplace. It’s my barn, so...." The man let the statement fade as he watched the clear blue eyes.
Xena hesitated, trying to dispel the effect the man’s intent stare was having on her reserve. Then she handed the man the coins and turned back to the waiting mare. "Well, you did a fine job on her," she told the man, busily completing the saddling of the horse. She yanked on the girth strap, pulling it snug against Argo’s stomach, and turned to face the smithy again. "She’s kind of ... important to me. Thanks again."
Enoch crossed his muscled arms over his expansive chest. "My pleasure," he said, holding the warrior’s eyes again. Then his glance swept to the golden mare behind her. "She’s a fine animal. A real prize."
Xena led Argo out of the barn, the smithy walking casually beside them. Outside, she gathered the reins in one hand, slipped her foot into the comfortable stirrup and swung herself gracefully into the saddle. When she had her other foot in position, she turned to gaze down at the smithy where he stood near her left knee.
"Oh, by the way," she began casually, making an effort to keep her tone light. "Can you tell me where this famous cave is ... the one where they found the scrolls my friend is working on?" At the smithy’s questioning look, she shifted her position in the saddle, hoping she was conveying only ordinary curiosity in the cavern. "I just thought I’d take a look at it, since my friend has told me what a prize the scrolls are."
Enoch’s easy smile swept over his rugged face. He pointed at the horizon, indicating the fields beyond the town. "It’s east of the village," he told Xena. "About half a candlemark from here, you’ll see a ridge of trees at the base of some steep hills. The cave sits behind the trees, about in the middle of the biggest mound."
Xena followed his pointing hand, then looked back at the man’s obliging grin.
"Thanks," she said. She urged Argo forward and gathered the reins comfortably in her fingers. As they moved away from the stable, the warrior slid forward in the saddle and patted the thick, sinewy neck.
"Let’s have a look, girl," she said to the mare’s twitching ears. "Then we’ll know what we need to do." She pressed her heels to the animal’s sides and responded with exhilaration to the perfect rhythm of the mare’s flawless stride. The warrior set their path toward the east.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Fourteen ~~~
Camber stood very still in the shade of the little group of trees. He had tied his pony near the end of the road, so he wouldn’t make any noise like the last time. He hadn’t wanted to leave Nisus there, but the pony had shrieked loudly and the little black horse had run away. This time, Camber decided, he wasn’t taking any chances.
He had been coming to the cluster of trees at least three times a week for the last two moons, ever since the first time he had seen the little black horse. Camber had thought then that, in all his ten summers, he had never seen anything as beautiful as the sleek, blue-black stallion, with the wide ribbon of white shining the length of his face, running flawlessly through the field, his long graceful stride sweeping across the tall grass, the black mane and tail flying. And his head! A perfectly shaped face, small and intelligent, just like his father told him.
‘Look at the head. And the eyes. You can see the intelligence there,’ he always said. And Camber knew then, the black horse was very smart.
The boy’s face creased in a grin as he remembered the last time he’d come to the little clearing; the black colt had taken the piece of the sweet root he’d offered him that time. He’d even let Camber get close enough to him to put the root right under his nose. That had been a grand day. All the other times before, the horse had stayed too far away for the boy to really get acquainted. Except for that one time -- when the animal had swept by him, close enough for the black tail to brush the boy’s face. That had been the best day of all.
At last he saw him, gliding effortlessly into the clearing. The boy’s body tensed, but he kept his eyes riveted on the small horse, watching the sleek muscles rippling under the glistening hide. The horse slowed his gait, then stopped stone still, ears twitching in the boy’s direction.
Camber took a slow breath and raised his hand to display the long, juicy carrot grasped in his palm. He took a single, lazy step toward the black horse.
The animal’s pink nostrils quivered but he didn’t move. The gentle breeze lifted the silvery forelock and fluttered the feathery black mane. The colt watched the small shape emerge from under the trees as the boy walked toward him, slowly, carefully, one step at a time.
Camber’s young hand grew moist around the carrot. He took one more step, changed the carrot to the other hand and wiped his sweating palm across the seam of his breeches. The jerky movement brought the colt’s head up sharply and he seemed about to bolt, again. The boy froze in position, the carrot extended shyly, his heart hammering in his chest. Then Camber started walking forward again, slowly. ‘Just a few more steps’, he thought, excitedly.
The black horse stepped forward a step, ears twitching quickly, gray muzzle sampling the humanness of the boy’s scent. He nickered quietly, shook his head and shifted nervously, the bright sunshine forming silvery shapes on his jet-black sides. He took another small step toward the boy.
Camber halted, hand still extending the carrot, his eyes never leaving the horse’s face. He cursed silently as the breeze lifted the edges of his tunic away from his body, again making the horse tentative and skittish. He smiled widely at the beautiful animal, extending his free hand, palm open, facing the sky.
"C’mon, boy," the child beckoned softly. "I’m not gonna hurt you." The black head shook and turned away, the soft muzzle trembling.
Camber took another slow step toward the horse. He could almost feel the magnificent hide under his fingers. He waved the carrot slightly and smiled wider when the horse turned back to face him.
"C’mon, fella. Here’s a nice, sweet carrot for you. Caahhmon." The boy stretched his free hand toward the quivering nose. He was almost there! Cautiously, the boy reached a hand toward the horse’s head. The colt drew it back as far as possible without moving. Camber stepped closer, his free hand so close to the satin hide, he could feel the heat radiating from the shiny surface. Gently, he touched the horse’s coat for an instant.
Suddenly the black equine pranced away, pivoted and turned back to the youngster. He stood a dozen strides away from the boy, front legs stiff, his ears flat against his head. Camber saw the colt raise up on his hind legs, teeth bared, pawing the bright sunlight with his white-rimmed front hooves. The horse swung his body to one side and reared again, his powerful legs slicing the air, his whistle shrilling through the clearing.
As the boy watched shocked and surprised, the ebony figure thundered away, the ground between them trembling under the force of the pounding hooves. He saw the black animal streak across the open space, turn, rear and, gathering himself in a mighty leap, head back across the meadow, straight at him, his thick mane and dark tail flowing freely, like two clouds of inky dust.
All at once, Camber heard hoofbeats pounding behind him. Yet he couldn’t pull his eyes from the approaching animal. He couldn’t move, couldn’t decide if he wanted to. Camber stood transfixed as the black horse came closer and closer, the white blaze down the front of his face blurring in the brilliance of the sun.
~~~~~~~~~
Xena relaxed into the welcome sensation of Argo’s rippling form striving beneath her. The woman and the horse coordinated their movements, each responding perfectly to the other, the two muscled creatures gliding in a seamless cadence, horse and rider completely attuned to each other. The animal sensed her mistress’ urgency and happily conformed to the woman’s commands. She stretched out easily, her hooves pounding an impeccable pattern on the hard ground.
The warrior guided the horse toward the clearing the smithy had described; she knew it was the same one where she had found the herbs during her ride on the chestnut gelding. As she enjoyed Argo’s effortless stride, her mind sorted and examined the information she had received during the conversation with Minerva that morning. Xena struggled to control the churning dread thumping in her senses. Sibling rivalry aside, she had an annoying feeling that the young woman’s concept of her brother’s character was unfortunately too accurate.
Another nagging dread also plagued her; what, if anything, she should do and how to explain what she did to the little bard, if it became necessary for her to act on Minerva’s misgivings.
Xena had barely arrived in the clearing when she saw the black horse streaking across the clearing. No! It wasn’t the same horse as before. This one was smaller, had a silver forelock and a white blaze running down the middle of its face. But the blue-black color and the thick, black mane and tail clearly showed a strain of relationship between the two animals. The warrior’s sharp mind spent only a moment on these considerations. In the next instant, she realized that the horse was flying, unrestrained and at a full gallop, toward the young boy standing frozen just beyond the smaller group of trees.
With the speed of her usual instantaneous reflexes, Xena turned Argo toward the small form balancing her weight to one side as the golden mare thundered closer to him. She glanced once at the approaching black horse before leaning far away from the saddle, her strong arm stretched out toward the boy. Argo pushed forward, stepping cleanly over the rough, ridged ground, altering her path slightly to pass close to the small form, to compensate for the weight of her mistress as she hung from the saddle.
A heartbeat before the black horse would have passed close enough for him to touch the sweeping tail again, Camber felt himself being yanked off the ground and lifted onto the yellow horse sweeping past behind him. The youngster yelled as his feet left the earth and he felt himself being deposited between the rider’s body and the large horn at the front of the saddle. The rider reseated herself, pressed her knees against the mare’s ribs and spurred their progress away from the stallion’s path. As the ebony shape flashed past them, the woman slowed the mare’s progress, then pulled the horse to a stop.
It was then that she noticed the boy in her grasp was struggling fiercely to release her grip.
Xena turned to watch the retreating black figure for a moment, then turned her attention toward the youngster wiggling against her chest, requesting heartily to be returned to the ground. She relaxed her arm as the boy twisted in the saddle to train a disgruntled gaze up at her.
"Why’d you do that?" Camber demanded unhappily. The warrior stared down at the young face, openly astonished. "You ruined everything!" He pushed her restraining arm out of the way, swung one leg over the saddlehorn and jumped to the ground beside Argo’s left shoulder. He turned to the warrior’s surprised expression, his jaw jutting angrily, the youthful face contorted in an angry scowl.
The warrior blinked and studied the flushed, red countenance. She stared down at the stiff form glaring up at her, his stance defiant, his fists jammed angrily on his hips. As she tried to contain her rising confusion, she watched a degree of the furor seep away from the boy’s irritated expression and slowly shift into a look of recognition. She swung down off Argo’s back, flipped the reins over the mare’s head and turned back to face the slightly less furious young face.
"You’re the lady warrior, aren’t you? The one who came to town with the little storyteller." The boy let his gaze travel over the warrior’s leather-clad form, settling momentarily on the golden mare behind her, eventually returning to the warrior’s blue eyes. The youngster’s angry expression gradually settled into an impatient frown.
"Yes, my name is Xena," the warrior said, regaining her authority. "Who are you? And just what were you trying to do back there? Get yourself trampled?"
The boy’s angry glare returned, full force. His lower lip drooped stubbornly as he pulled himself up as straight as he could, straining to address the warrior’s face high above him.
"I’m Camber and I would not have gotten trampled!" he barked, challenging the tall woman disdainfully. "The black horse knows me," he declared proudly. "He even takes the carrots and sweet roots I bring him, right from my hand." The boy raised his chin in a meaningful gesture. "For your information, lady warrior, I was trying to let him know he could trust me. and he was really starting to ..." he said, fixing her with another aggravated glare. "...until you scared him off."
Xena found herself experiencing a modicum of admiration for this brave youngster. He was obviously not intimidated by her leathers, her size or her status as an adult. He had certainly shown a level of courage when facing the stampeding black horse without displaying panic. In fact, she decided, this young fellow didn’t seem to be afraid of anything that usually scared someone of his age. The boy’s stalwart manner rekindled warm memories of her own son, and the valor Solan had demonstrated during their one, brief incident together. The warrior gave in to the grudging smile that beckoned to cross her face, even as she endured the boy’s hostility.
"I’m sorry," she told the boy honestly. "I guess you’re right. I’m sorry I ruined it for you." The boy’s animosity dispersed slightly at the warrior’s apologetic tone. His tense body relaxed a bit and he lowered his fists from their position on his hips. The angry scowl was slowly replaced by an expression of genuine disappointment. After a moment, Camber turned away and walked briskly back toward the spot where he’d been standing before the warrior swept him onto the mare’s back.
Xena fell in step beside him. After a moment, she cocked her head to focus on the boy’s disgruntled face. "So, what can I do for you now?" she asked gently. "Do you need a ride back to ...."
"No, that’s OK," the boy answered. "I tied my pony over there," he said, motioning absently toward the edge of the clearing behind them. "I’ll just try again tomorrow." He stopped and fixed her with a warning gaze. "As long as you steer clear of this place and don’t scare him off again."
Xena raised her hands in mock surrender. "You won’t see me, I promise. Just be careful, all right?"
The youngster threw her an impatient glare, then resumed walking. She followed, again admiring his noble attitude.
"You really were very brave, standing so still like that," Xena said, sincerely. The young face brightened at her compliment. "That took courage, not to panic and hold your ground. How’d you know to try that?"
"My daddy says it’s important for a man’s horse to trust him. He says that’s always the best thing to try, if you want a really good horse."
The warrior nodded, keeping her expression as serious as the boy’s.
"And your father knows horses, does he?" she continued, straight-faced.
"He should," Camber said, his face beaming. "He’s the best blacksmith in this whole province."
Xena reacted to the boy’s shining reference. He was referring to the blacksmith in the town, of course. She shook her head slowly, rebuking herself for not arriving at the obvious conclusion sooner. She studied the youngster for a moment. He was actually a true miniature of his father, the same large brown eyes, identical thatch of wavy, auburn hair. The sturdy little body already showed signs of matching, or perhaps surpassing, his father’s hearty, muscled build, the warrior concluded. The resemblance was obvious, now that she considered it.
They had arrived back at Camber’s original spot, in the shade of the little group of trees at the near edge of the clearing. He bent to pick up the carrot he’d dropped when the warrior’s strong grip had spirited him off his feet. He brushed away the dirt clinging to the carrot, cast a look at the golden mare, broke the orange stalk in two and walked around the tall woman to offer the treat to the animal. After a cursory glance at the horse’s glistening hide, he turned a deprecating look at the warrior.
"You’d better cool her down," he told her in a superior tone. The tall woman pursed her lips to hide the advancing amusement threatening to cover her face. "Whatter you doin’ out here, anyway?" the boy asked as he opened his palm to give Argo half of the carrot. "Nobody from town ever comes to this place."
"I was looking for the cave ... the one where they found the scrolls. The smithy ... your father told me it was near this clearing. Maybe you could show me where it is." Camber’s gaze was distrustful.
"Why?" he said suspiciously.
"Because I’m new to this area and I don’t ...."
"No, I meant why do you want to see it?" The boy’s large brown eyes met the blue pools.
The warrior read a degree of proprietorship in the youngster’s glance. He was not about to share his knowledge of the cave’s location until he was satisfied that her interest wasn’t more than acceptable curiosity.
"I just wanted to see it. My friend, the little storyteller, says it’s ..." she searched her mind for an appropriate word. "...neat," she said finally, swallowing the feeling of foolishness at the term.
She watched as Camber considered her request. "So, do you know where it is, or not?" After a moment, the warrior decided a little bartering was in order.
"Look, I’ll make you a deal," she told the child, dropping to one knee to bring her gaze level with his. "If you show me how to find the cave, I’ll help you catch the black colt." Camber’s eyes lit at the suggestion. "Do we have a deal?"
The boy stroked the mare’s nose thoughtfully and offered her the last of the carrot. He seemed reluctant to enlighten the warrior until Argo nudged his chest softly. The boy’s face lit warmly at the animal’s show of solidarity.
"Well, OK," he said. "But Musaeus says I’m not supposed to ‘bandy it about’," Camber told her. The warrior’s instincts spurted to life again but she clamped a restraint on her rising uneasiness and turned an open expression to the youngster.
"Why is that, do you think?" she asked, innocently, standing upright again.
Camber’s small frown greeted her steady look. "Because it’s a secret place, that’s why," he told her impatiently. "No one else is s’posed to go there alone, except, Musaeus, me and the men from the camp in the valley. That way nobody can mess up what’s in ...."
Xena’s senses had locked on the phrase ‘men from the camp’. She leaned down toward the boy.
"What men?" she asked him, her expression serious. Camber saw the wave of hardness sweep over the pretty blue eyes, even his young mind recognizing the change in the tall woman’s manner. His face responded to the gravity in her tone.
"Camber, what men?" She took the boy’s arm.
The boy studied the intent crystal pools for a moment, then his gaze left hers to focus on a spot behind her, at the far edge of the clearing. He pointed over the warrior’s shoulder.
"Them," he said. "Those are the men from the camp. The cave is on the other side of those trees over there. At the bottom of the biggest hill."
Xena turned to follow the path of the boy’s pointing finger. As her eyes scanned the open clearing they came to rest on the ridge of trees at the far edge of the expanse. She saw the three men travel along the line of trees, then disappear behind the green curtain of the foliage. Instinctively, the warrior’s jaw clenched as the knot in her stomach tightened. Even at the distance she was from the figures, her intuition told her the caliber of ruffian they personified. She watched the men’s progress, a rising foreboding unsettling her senses.
‘Now what do you suppose their interest is in this particular cave?’ Xena’s mind queried. ‘Scholars? I don’t think so.’ Camber’s bright voice broke the warrior’s reverie.
"It’s OK," he told her confidently. "They know me. Just tell them I said it was OK." With that, her turned and started to walk away.
"Where are you going?" Xena asked the youngster, glancing back nervously at the ridge of trees across the meadow.
"Home," the boy said, emphatically. "I’ve got chores to do before it gets too late." He stopped and turned back to the warrior.
"You coming?"
Xena reverted to her best ‘bored warrior face’ as she gathered up Argo’s reins and hoisted herself into the saddle. "No, I want to give Argo a little more exercise," she said blandly. She turned the mare toward the ridge of trees. "I’ll see you back in town after we ride some more."
Camber seemed about to pose another question, so Xena waited expectantly. "You said you’d help me. Tomorrow, all right?" the boy said, facing the warrior again.
"Yes, you have my word. OK?"
"OK," the boy said, finally satisfied. "I’ll see you back at the stable." He turned and walked away.
Xena waited until the little form disappeared into the trees near the road before she laid the reins on Argo’s neck and headed for the ridge of trees near the staggered hills. As she rode slowly toward the cave, she felt her stomach tightening and the familiar warning signals buzzing in her ears. She knew the first phase of her dilemma was about to become a reality; finding the cave and investigating it. She dreaded the onset of the next phase; explaining her suspicions to her best friend. She had a feeling acting on those misgivings would not please the little bard, or her male associate, in the least.
As she rode toward the cave, the warrior’s expression was grim and determined.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Fifteen ~~~
Gabrielle tried to concentrate on the stained scroll in front of her, but her gaze kept returning to the slouching figure of her so-called partner in the restoration endeavor. She shook her head slightly at Musaeus’ bored expression and the disinterest plainly apparent in his lazy manner. As she watched, he folded a discarded scrap of parchment into a triangular shape, then rolled the piece into a tight coil. When he had secured the ends of his creation inside the spiral, he raised the cylinder to one eye, closed the other in a contorted squint and trained the contrivance in her direction. She answered the young man’s teasing activity with an irritated scowl.
Musaeus lowered his plaything and grinned invitingly at the bard’s cool expression. Since it was obvious that his attempt at humor had gone unappreciated by his companion, the boyish smile faded to be replaced by a practiced, ingratiating smirk. Finally, the young man lowered his gaze to the coiled parchment as the little blonde sat back in her chair, her elbows resting on the wooden arms, and laced her fingers over her lap. After another stilted moment, Musaeus raised his gaze to meet the admonishment in the girl’s green gaze.
"Something wrong?" he asked innocently, a false degree of uneasiness shading his tone.
Gabrielle moistened her lips slowly, trying hard to make her intended remarks as charitable as she could. She gazed at the boyish, freckled face of her bardic compatriot, a vague reluctance invading her attitude. She took a short breath and studied her own thumbs.
"Musaeus," she said, finally raising her eyes to meet his. "When you asked me to come here, you said this was a very important project. You said it was a matter of ‘high magnitude’ to the town and to your own future as a bard." The green eyes on the young man’s face were serious, and considerably more genuine than those returning her gaze.
"It is," the young man said, fixing his best ‘convincing look’ on the girl’s sober gaze.
"Well, if that’s true, I sure wouldn’t know that by the way you’ve been handling it." The bluntness of the bard’s words brought a slight blush to the young man’s face. "In fact, the whole time we’ve been working on this, you’ve acted like it was the least important thing in your whole world. It makes me wonder just how much these scrolls really do matter to you."
Musaeus left his chair and strode quickly to stand across the table from the little blonde. She followed his advancing form, her position completely unchanged and pointedly disinterested.
"Of course it’s important to me, Gabrielle," the young bard pleaded. "I told you how the Elders are counting on me ... on us ... to restore these scrolls and bring distinguished travelers to Almiros. Significant people who will draw other people of consequence here."
"Yes, so you keep saying," the little blonde continued, annoyance very apparent in her crisp tone. "But, to put it bluntly, I’m doing all the work around here. And it’s starting to annoy me." She let the statement hang in the quiet room. "You might even say it’s making me really angry. You don’t seem inclined to exert any effort at all. Does that seem fair to you?" She sent the young man a meaningful stare. "Or have I missed something?"
Musaeus saw the clear disdain in Gabrielle’s green gaze. At that moment he realized he had arrived at a dangerous crossroad. He had erroneously assumed that he could rely on his perfected charm and engaging personality to control the young blonde woman now glaring at him from across the table. His mind quickly grasped the seriousness of his blunder and began a frantic maneuver to regain his equilibrium and control. The young face showed a sincerely regretful expression and his confidence drained away under the little blonde’s solemn stare.
"I’m sorry, Gabrielle," Musaeus said, lowering his gaze to the rugged table between him and the little blonde. "I guess I’m not as ... disciplined as you." He focused again on the young woman’s serious face, trying to judge how his comments were helping his failing image. There was no reaction in the green eyes trained on his. He tried another tactic. Sporting a flimsy grin, he shrugged his shoulders ruefully.
"When I saw how much more knowledgeable you are than I am, I figured I’d help most by just staying out of your way." Musaeus grinned, seemingly exhibiting a great remorse at his own silly mistake.
Gabrielle took a deep breath and briskly pushed her chair back from the table. She stood up and laid both hands flat on the surface, leaning across the expanse to level a solemn expression at the face of her male friend. Musaeus stepped back, truly unnerved by the girl’s purposeful attitude.
"That’s ... horse droppings," she said, her green eyes sparkling with rising impatience. "I’ve just had a little more experience with different dialects, that’s all." The little blonde stood up straight, spreading her slim hands along the belt of her Amazon skirt. "You’re the one who’s been so good at finding all the geographic references and the ancient verses." The young man’s face brightened at the girl’s compliments.
"But, you really must try to stay focused on what we’re here for, understand?" The little bard sent the young man a reproachful look. "Just try to concentrate. This is an important job and I think we should give it our best effort." The green eyes traveled over the boyish face. "OK?" Gabrielle said, her expression open and sincere.
Musaeus felt a vague wave of guilt waft through his conscience, but he ignored the noble inclination to reclaim his confidence in his previous agenda. His put on his best smile as he met the young woman’s honest expression.
"OK," he said, nodding agreeably. "I promise I’ll be more ... responsible," he chirped, smiling brightly. "At least, I’ll try. OK?" The little bard giggled, the sweet face returning the young man’s friendly smile.
The two young people laughed together. Then the little bard looked down at the scroll on the table. "Well," she said, scanning the parchment. "We’re out of ink." She looked back up at the young man. "And I need a little air, so I guess I’ll take a walk over to the parchment shop and pick up another glass." She slid the quill pen into its leather pouch and moved toward the door. Musaeus started to follow her, but she casually waved him off. "That’s OK," she told him. "I won’t be long." She walked briskly through the open door toward the town’s merchant.
After a moment, Musaeus turned away from the portal and strode purposefully over to one of the sections of shelving lining the walls of the room. He glanced at the open door again, then returned his attention to his task. After he had moved one of the bound volumes, he reached behind the book and carefully withdrew a weathered, outwardly antiquated scroll. He checked the doorway again, then quickly crossed the room, stopping near the collection of rolled parchments which Gabrielle had assembled on one end of the table.
Musaeus scanned the pile, selected one in particular, then replaced it with the scroll from the bookshelf. He restocked the scrolls in the collection, taking care to make sure the new roll of parchment matched the placement of its predecessor exactly. Checking the doorway yet again, he scurried back to the shelving, slid the original document into the open space and repositioned the book, covering the hidden opening once again. The young man sat down in the chair he’d occupied earlier and rested his elbows on the end of the table. He rubbed his hands together, his face creased in a smug, lop-sided grin, happily satisfied that the final aspect of his plan had been set into motion.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Sixteen ~~~
When Xena returned Argo to the stables a candlemark later, they were both panting and hot. The warrior took her time cooling the mare down and grooming the shining coat. She re-filled the water trough and the feed bin, even making sure there was fresh hay and fodder for the animal’s enjoyment. At one point during her labors, she paused to react to the quizzical glare she noticed in the mare’s big brown eyes as the horse gazed at her mistress, slowly crunching the handful of oats the warrior had offered during her ministrations.
"Well," the warrior said sadly, stroking the mare’s long face. "Now we know about the cave, don’t we?"
The mare tossed her golden head and responded with a sympathetic nicker.
"So, how do I explain our trip to our little friend?" The warrior trained a weary stare through the open window at the front of the stall. After a moment, she sighed heavily, patted the sinewy neck and tied the halter’s rope to the wooden rails.
"See you in the morning," she told the mare. She hung the bridle on the peg above the saddle, replaced the grooming tools on the shelf and left the barn.
The moon had already slipped above the leafy trees when the warrior exited the stable. She paused a moment as she crossed the darkened town square, casting a hesitant look toward the hut that housed the restoration project. She could see the dim candlelight that still twinkled within the structure. Swallowing her fleeting uneasiness, she turned instead in the direction of the Inn, finally acknowledging the hungry feeling in her stomach.
Once inside the noisy dining area, she strode toward the bartender as the rotund merchant’s easy smile spread in recognition of her approach. He came down to the end of the bar to meet her, drying his pudgy hands on a rumpled towel. As Xena leaned closer to address him, the bartender turned one ear toward the leather-clad form. She raised her voice slightly to combat the loud clamor in the room.
"Have you seen my friend?" she asked, then let her eyes sweep the room for the small bard.
"The little storyteller?" the man asked showing a gap-filled smile. "She’s waiting for you in the room," he told her, gesturing toward the archway with one fleshy thumb. "She said you two would eat when you got back from your ride."
Xena nodded, then favored the round face with a small grin. "I’ll take a tray to her, if you don’t mind," she said. "She’s probably tired after working on the scrolls all day."
The man’s stout chin bobbed in agreement, and he waved one wide hand to summon the middle-aged waitress. When the woman saw the signal, she crossed the room and listened to the bartender’s instructions. She glanced at the warrior, then turned and disappeared through the door to the kitchen. After a few moments, the waitress returned carrying a wooden tray holding two steaming bowls of thick stew, two large spoons, two mugs of cider and a bundle wrapped in a clean, white napkin. Xena decided the cloth held some of the sweet bread the bard had been praising so enthusiastically.
The warrior paid the bartender for the food. She took the tray from the waitress, thanked the woman and began to make her way across the tavern toward the door leading to the sleeping rooms. Once in the hallway, she quickened her pace as she approached the room she shared with the bard. She smiled as the fragrant aroma of the stew floated up from the tray into her nostrils.
‘She’s probably starving, waiting all this time for me,’ the warrior thought, amused. She stopped at the door of their room, balanced the tray in her free hand, turned the knob with the other and strode into the chamber. She quietly closed the door and turned around, expecting to meet the sparkling green pools of her soulmate. When her eyes had adjusted to the soft light flickering from the two large candles standing on the mantle the blue gaze swept the room for the little bard.
The first sight that registered was one rust-colored boot laying on its side on the floor next to the bed. The warm smile across the warrior’s expression grew slowly when the blue eyes traveled upward to the quiet form on the coverlet. Xena put the tray down on the square table across the room, hung her chakram on one of the wooden pegs on the wall, removed the dagger and sheath from her belt, and pulled off her arm coverings. She sat down on the small wooden chair, took off her shin guards and her boots, then quietly padded closer to the petite figure resting comfortably on the pallet.
The little blonde was fast asleep, her wheat-colored tresses spread softly across the pillow, her short, white sleeping shift accentuating her trim, well-formed little body. Long, fair lashes left wispy shadows across the soft, peaceful face. One trim arm was curled under the blonde head while the other small hand, still holding the quill pen, rested casually on a partially-scripted expanse of parchment. Under the clean scroll lay another, its dark stains and tattered edges identifying it as one of those in need of replacement. A cursory glance at neat lines clearly depicted the chain of events; the girl had been in the midst of the transcription when fatigue had overcome good intentions.
Xena leaned steadily on the edge of the mattress, lovingly studying the little bard. After a moment, she gently removed the pieces of parchment, placing them safely on the small table next to the bed. She carefully pulled the quill pen from the girl’s fist and placed it on the mantle next to one of the candles. Then she smoothly pulled off the remaining boot and dropped it quietly on the floor next to its mate. She sat down on the bed, tenderly lifted the little figure, pulled the coverlet from under the girl and gently repositioned the bard. As she drew the soft wrapper over the sleeping form and delicately tucked the covering around the slim frame, the green eyes slowly fluttered open.
"Xena?" Gabrielle asked sleepily. "Did you have a good run?"
The warrior nodded and smiled warmly at the tired face. She leaned closer to the bard, one hand on either side of the compact little form.
"I brought some food for us," she said to the sleepy green eyes. "Are you hungry?"
The bard yawned heartily, stretched her lithe frame, then dropped her hands onto the pillow above her head. She returned the warrior’s loving gaze, a small grin lighting the young expression.
"Kinda," she murmured, training a bemused expression on the new position of the bedspread and her companion’s solicitous activity. Looking back up into the gentle blue eyes, the bard’s little grin grew wider. "Hey," she asked. "How’d I get under the covers?"
The warrior’s smile matched the bard’s. She pulled the covers up closer to the soft chin. "I tucked you in," she quipped, replacing the slender hands along side the trim body. The little bard giggled. "Oh," she chirped. "I guess that explains it, then."
Xena gazed down into the sweet, smiling face, her deep affection for the young bard flooding into the clear blue eyes. For a moment, the crackling fire provided the only sounds in the warm room. Then the warrior’s liquid voice sounded quietly.
"You sure you’re not hungry?"
The bard shook her head. "I’d rather just talk with you a while."
The warrior tilted her head and met the open request with a reproachful look. She steeled herself against the beginnings of a small frown now evident across the bard’s brow. "You’ll want to be up early again, if I don’t miss my guess." The little scowl was replaced by a rankled pout. "And you haven’t been getting a great deal of rest while we’ve been here," the warrior said softly. She studied the cherished face and took one small hand in her own.
"If you still plan to be finished in time to get to Kerkira before the start of the Solstice, " the warrior said as she studied the little hand clasped in her palm. "You’ll need to be alert and awake to get the job done."
Gabrielle blinked quickly against the angry tears stinging her eyes. The fatigue that had overcome her earlier even now plagued her shoulders and had produced a nagging headache. Still, she resented the warrior’s proprietary attitude; she felt like a child being sent to bed after a long, day of play. She swallowed hard against the frustration tightening her throat.
"C’mon," the warrior said, shifting her position on the bed. "Snuggle in and I’ll rub your shoulders for a while." She grinned at the bard’s unspoken question. "I noticed you flexing them this afternoon. I figured they’ve been giving you some trouble." The little bard grudgingly acknowledged the warrior’s intuition.
Xena maneuvered the little blonde onto her stomach and began a firm manipulation of the tense muscles along the girl’s shoulders. The bard gritted her teeth against the mild discomfort before relaxing under the warrior’s deft touch. After a long moment, during which the bard began to enjoy the soothing effects of the strong, sensitive fingers, she raised her chin to address the woman applying the competent massage.
"You win ... for now, warrior," the bard said, then grunted quietly in response to a particularly firm touch from the warrior’s hands. "But, when the Solstice starts, we’ll just see about ... ohh!" The last comment came as a result of the unexpected - and very brisk - swat that had been delivered across her behind.
"Quiet, please," the warrior said sweetly. "This is hard enough without having to deal with unnecessary conversation. Now, just lie still."
The little blonde groaned in capitulation, then reluctantly surrendered to the proficient ministrations. Very soon her breathing became steady and regular as the little body succumbed to the warrior’s talented fingers. When a gentle snore emerged from the far side of the pillow, the tall woman smiled and gently pulled the covers over the sleeping form.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Seventeen ~~~
Gabrielle awoke to the steady, even rhythm of the warrior’s heartbeat under her ear. As she blinked away her sleepiness, she noticed first, that outside the window, it was still dark. Her next perception was the soft pressure of the slender hand resting on her hip. The warmth of the smooth palm radiated through the light-weight shift and spread across the bard’s skin.
After taking a moment to enjoy the sweetness of the gentle contact, the little blonde raised her head to focus on the beautiful, sleeping face framed by the long, raven hair. Her eyes traveled down over the sleek, bronze body beside her, the gold, silky skin accented against the clean, linen shift the warrior now wore. A loving smile traveled over the girl’s soft countenance.
At that moment, the warrior stirred, breathed deeply and the clear, blue eyes drifted open. Her first response was to the slender arm resting across her middle. She gently stroked the smooth limb as she met the bright, green eyes in the fresh face nestled against her. The lovely, chiseled features softened into a warm smile.
"Hello, there" the little bard said quietly.
"Hello, yourself," the warrior responded. She moved her hand from the bard’s hip to the girl’s slim shoulder. "How’s that knot?"
Gabrielle laid her head back down on the warrior’s chest and tightened her hug around the woman’s waist. "It’s all gone, thank you. I had an expert attend to it." She sneaked a quick look at the amused blue eyes, then laid her head down again. "She’s very ‘skilled’," the bard murmured as the warrior’s arm drew her closer. "Of course, she beats me, so I’m not sure I want to ...."
The teasing comment dissolved into a high-pitched giggle as the warrior’s probing fingers skipped quickly along the slim waist and tweaked the most ticklish spot, making the bard jump and squirm under the relentless attack. Soon the little blonde was wiggling in retreat, trying in vain to avoid the assault and begging for a reprieve from the inflexible digits.
Moments later, the girl was breathless and flushed, one small hand extended toward her attacker, the other holding onto the warrior’s threatening fingers in an attempt to foil another onslaught.
"OK, OK, I give," the little bard panted,. giggling happily. She cast pleading green eyes up at the menacing blue stare hovering above her.
The warrior chortled victoriously. She gazed down at her captive, then gently swept the tousled blonde strands away from the soft face. As she watched, the playfulness in the sweet expression was momentarily replaced by a distinct wave of fatigue.
For a long moment, the warrior battled her own emotions. Part of her wanted to indulge the bard’s desire to engage in the joyous exchange that had been absent from their time together recently, but the practical, sensible side of her noticed the slightly gray tinge under the luminous green eyes. Her cherished companion might be able to ignore the weariness that was fast consuming her brave spirit, but the warrior decided she could not. She clamped a steadfast control on her own enjoyment and instead chose a course of action that, she told herself bravely, was in the bard’s best interest.
Xena sat back away from the little blonde, smiling tenderly at the girl’s playful expression. She softened the abruptness of the move by casually repositioning the soft coverlet over the girl’s trim form. Gathering her courage, she met the annoyance in the emerald stare with a loving smile.
"You need your rest, my bard," she said quietly, chafing inwardly at the clear sparks of irritation in the green eyes. "It’s still a few candlemarks until dawn. Why don’t you ...?"
Gabrielle sat up impatiently, supporting her slim torso on her arms. The verdant pools took on an amber hue, a recognizable sign of impending fury which brought an unusual tremor to the warrior’s reserve. The tall woman blinked, slightly surprised at the bard’s irritated manner.
"I hate it when you do that!" the bard spat out. She roughly pushed the covers away and swung her muscled legs to the side of the bed. As she began to move off the pallet, Xena put a tentative hand on her arm.
"Do what?" the warrior asked, honestly confused.
The bard turned back. She met the clear blue eyes with a cold stare.
"Try to ‘manage’ me," the girl snapped, pulling her arm away. She slid off the bed, took a few brisk steps across the room, then whirled to confront her companion’s curious stare. "I especially hate it when you treat me like a child," the bard finished defiantly, small hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.
"Listen, Xena!" the bard said, her voice rising angrily. "I can decide when I’m ‘too tired’, I don’t need you to tell me that. Understand? You’re not my mother." The green eyes locked with the blue crystals for a long moment. Then the young woman turned away, marched to the open window and stood, stiff-backed and furious, training a strained glare into the cool, dark night.
A heavy silence hung in the small room as the warrior’s mind smoothly returned to its normal readiness. She slowly recognized the underlying anxiety driving her companion’s uncharacteristic harshness and she chided herself for yielding to her own insecurities and being blinded to what now became perfectly clear; the bard was obviously very disturbed about something and it had nothing to do with the warrior’s so-called unwanted ‘mothering’ of her.
Xena quietly watched the stiff, little form shivering in front of the open window. She pulled the coverlet from the bed, crossed to the bard and draped the soft material over the girl’s shoulders. The bard’s attention was slowly drawn from the darkness outside the window to the tender attention of the tall, concerned woman next to her. As the warrior pulled the blanket closed in front of the slim form, her blue eyes settled on the tear-filled gaze of her most cherished companion. Her throat caught when the tears brimming in the green eyes spilled down over the soft face.
"I’m sorry," the bard said softly. "That was unfair of me." The girl gulped hard. "I’m sorry."
Xena gently brushed back the soft blonde hair with her fingers, looking directly into the moist, green eyes. "Even if I could, I would never try to ‘manage’ you," the warrior said evenly. She put her hands on the girl’s shoulders. "You know I respect you too much for that. You’re your own person, Gabrielle. It’s one of my most favorite things about you." The tall woman’s face warmed in a gentle smile. She waited as the little blonde wiped her face with the edges of the coverlet.
"Now," Xena began, her arms lying loosely on the girl’s shoulders. "You want to tell me what’s really bothering you? You’ve been on edge for days. What’s going on?"
Gabrielle grasped the edges of the coverlet in one hand and put the other to the back of her neck, rubbing the spot hard. "There," the tall woman said, a knowing glint in the blue gaze. "You’ve been doing that for days, too." The bard’s brows knit in light confusion. "You only rub your neck like that when something’s really upseting. So, tell me. What is it?"
The girl’s worried scowl broke slightly as she reacted to the warrior’s insightful comment. She shook her head slightly, then the young face cleared in a tiny, grateful grin. She took a deep, shaky breath and pulled the blanket closely around herself. The little blonde slowly backed away from her friend’s comforting embrace and took a few tentative steps toward the dancing flames in the fireplace. She stared into the blaze for a moment, then turned again to face the blue pools.
"We’ve been repairing these scrolls for a week, now," she said, a new weariness in her voice.
"Eight days," the warrior interjected, almost without meaning to.
The girl’s expression softened as she stepped closer to her friend. "And, while I’m at it, I want to thank you for being so patient. Just hanging around here all this time must be about to drive you crazy."
"Don’t worry about it. I’ve kept busy," the warrior quipped, her mouth curling in a half-smile. "Stay on the subject. Right now I’m more concerned with what’s driving you crazy. What’s making you so ... grumpy?" the warrior asked, stepping closer to the slender form wrapped in the coverlet.
The bard threw an aggravated look at the ceiling and closed her tired eyes to the nagging feeling in her conscience. She stepped past the warrior and flounced down on the edge of the bed again. Xena sat down next to her friend, her expression expectant and concerned.
"Well today I started examining this particular scroll ... it was especially damaged. Some of the words were completely covered by stains and the edges just sort of fell away in my fingers. It was a real mess."
The warrior nodded, a spark of foreboding tightening her stomach.
"Well, I got it cleaned up pretty well, at least enough so that I could finally read the words. I told Musaeus I was going to have to start over, totally re-transcribe it and he agreed with me. So I started to copy it onto a new piece of parchment."
The bard’s narration stopped and the warrior’s frustration grew. Xena watched the strain contort her friend’s face. She could see the bard’s inward battle and she was fairly certain the primary cause was her friend’s unwavering sense of honor. She put a gentle hand on the girl’s hunched shoulder.
"Go on," she prompted the little blonde. "Problem?"
Gabrielle turned a desperate look toward the worried sapphire pools. She swallowed again and pulled the coverlet tighter. "Well ... it’s wrong. The story transcribed on the original scroll is wrong, Xena. Whoever wrote it down made some pretty serious mistakes in the translation." The bard turned an urgent gaze toward the warrior. "It’s the story of Echo and Narcissus," she said. "You know, I told it at the Harvest Festival last season, when we went to help Hercules?
Xena nodded. She remembered the way the audience had been mesmerized by the bard’s presentation and how proud she’d been of her best friend’s talents.
"Well, maybe it’s just a difference in the original dialect, or something like that," the warrior offered. "It’s got to be one that’s told by many bards. Maybe it’s just a case of ...."
The bard shook her head impatiently. "No, it’s more than just a difference in interpretation," she said firmly. "It’s ... it had ... some of the important lines of the story itself are totally wrong. Like, the ending, for instance. The whole point of the story is that Narcissus was so in love with his own image that the Goddess Juno punished him by never letting him experience the joy of being loved."
"And the scroll doesn’t say that?" Xena pressed further. "What does it say?"
Gabrielle looked away for a moment, then turned back to the warrior’s questioning expression. "It says Narcissus regrets his ‘vain and cruel ways’ and that Juno brings him and Echo together. See what I mean? It’s not just ‘kind of different’, it’s totally wrong."
The warrior saw the deep conflict raging in her young friend. The girl’s sense of honor prevented her from randomly altering what was, to the people of the village, a valuable artifact, a treasured piece of their history. Yet, the inequities of the scroll were chafing roughly against the bard’s sense of justice and her regard for the relevance of truth.
"So, fix it," the warrior said cautiously. "When you re-transcribe it, you can correct the mistakes, can’t you? Wouldn’t that be all right?" She read the dilemma still troubling the bard.
"Can I?" the girl asked quietly. "Do I have the right to ‘fix it’, to change the ‘moral of the story’ just because I don’t agree with it?"
"But, if you said it’s wrong ...." the warrior persisted.
"How do I know my ending is the true ending? How do I know that all this time I haven’t been telling the tale wrong? Maybe the bards I listened to didn’t like the real ending so they decided to make it more appealing ... more instructive. Maybe there’s a reason the ancestors of these people changed the ending. And if I ‘fix it’, how do I know I’m not destroying something very important and very precious to their heritage?"
For a moment, the green eyes meeting the warrior’s vibrant blues were intense and determined. Then, a wave of exhaustion floated across the gentle face and the bard brought one small hand up to massage her forehead. She shook her head slowly and Xena could see the girl’s internal struggle had taken it’s toll on her. She wrapped a consoling arm around the slender shoulders.
After a moment, the warrior’s smooth voice sounded in the quiet room. "What does Musaeus have to say about all this?" The bard raised her head to meet the blue gaze and saw only sincerity gleaming in her friend’s expression.
"He is another ‘expert source’, isn’t he? What does he think you should do?"
Gabrielle dropped her eyes to the edges of the coverlet captured by her nervous fingers, then met the blue eyes again. "He thinks I should leave it ... transcribe it the way it is." The warrior’s internal warning quivered. "In fact, he’s been very determined that I shouldn’t change it," the bard continued. "I’ve been a little confused about that, too."
A clear and palatable tenseness sliced through Xena’s consciousness. Her sharply tuned senses were sounding a subtle alarm. For an instant, her jaw clamped tight and her natural instincts concerning the complete and total protection of the young blonde at her side produced a searing apprehension in the tall woman’s psyche. She submerged the primal reaction in order to attend to the bard’s visible anguish. Gradually she became aware of the sound of the bard’s quiet voice.
"I don’t know," the little blonde sighed tiredly. "Maybe I’m making too much of this. Maybe you’re right and it is just a difference in the translation, or something. In that case, it would be valuable as kind of a ‘novelty piece’." The bard dropped her head and rotated her chin, slowly stretching the knotted muscles at the base of her neck. "Either way, it’s definitely given me one beast of a headache," the girl joked weakly.
Xena pulled her attention back to the little room and the bard’s discomfort. She gathered the little form toward her, applying strategic pressure to the girl’s aching neck.
"Here, let me take care of that," she said. She massaged the tense muscles, then gently moved the bard back toward the pallet. "Lie down and try to relax," the warrior said, pulling the coverlet away and guiding her friend onto the mattress. "Right now, let’s work on that headache."
The bard complied, offering no protest to the warrior’s directions. She flopped down on her stomach and wrapped her arms around the soft, down-filled pillow. Xena replaced the covers over the slender form and began to knead the stiff area expertly.
"I’ll work it out somehow," the young woman said, her sleepy voice muffled by the pillow. "Thanks for putting up with my ranting ... ugh," she moaned as the warrior’s deft touch found an especially tight spot. " ... and raving."
"No problem. I owed you one," the warrior said, softly. Her little smile went unnoticed by the exhausted bard. Xena kept up the therapy until she recognized the return of the deep, steady pattern to the girl’s breathing. Fortunately the steely, gray tint that overcame the blue eyes was also missed by the bard.
‘Well, that tears it for sure,’ the warrior thought, ruefully. ‘Time to have another little talk with Musaeus. More than one thing is starting to smell around here.’