CHAPTER 7

Xena and Cyrelle ate a quick lunch of bread, cheese, and figs. Then they went out behind the courtyard for the dagger-throwing lesson. Xena had made a paste of powdered lime and water, which she now daubed onto the timbers of the city wall in several places. "This will give us something to aim at," she said with a grin. Then she held out her hand. "Let me see that dagger."

Cyrelle gave her the weapon. Xena turned it over in her hands, noting its weight, then tested the blade's keenness with her thumb.

"Is it sharp enough?" Cyrelle asked.

"Yes, it's got a good edge on it, but it doesn't have to be very sharp just for you to practice throwing it. I've got an extra sharpening stone you can have," she went on, "and I'll show you how to use it later."

"Okay," the girl said, nodding. "So how do you throw it?"

"Like this," Xena responded. Then, quickly taking aim, she hurled the dagger at the wall. It stuck, quivering, in the center of one of the target spots.

Cyrelle ran to retrieve the weapon, then came back and tried throwing it herself. The first couple of attempts were a bit awkward, but the girl's third try hit the target, and after that, she rarely missed.

From the time Cyrelle had been born, Xena and Gabrielle had watched her development closely, wondering whether her parentage might cause her to have special powers of some sort. But the only thing they had observed, besides a strength surpassing that of other girls her age, was an ability to learn physical skills almost effortlessly. Xena had begun teaching her daughter to do flips at an early age, and although she had not seen Cyrelle perform any recently, she was almost certain the girl continued to practice and develop her prowess. But now that they were dealing with a lethal weapon for the first time, it was almost scary to see how easily Cyrelle mastered its use.

The next time the girl went to retrieve the dagger, Xena called out to her, "Cyrelle, can you jump up there?" Then she pointed to the narrow walkway that ran along the upper portion of the wall.

"Sure," Cyrelle said, glancing up at the spot Xena indicated. "Want to see me?"

"Yes."

The girl sheathed her dagger and moved a few paces away from the wall. Then, crouching slightly, she leaped upward in a single, fluid movement, cleared the railing, and landed lightly on the walkway.

"That was good!" Xena exclaimed, remembering, with a pang of regret, how it had once felt to be so young and agile. "Now, throw the dagger at me," she instructed.

"At you?" Cyrelle said in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I want to see if I can still catch one in flight."

"All right," the girl said with a shrug. Then, taking out the weapon, she aimed and threw it.

Xena supported her weight with her crutch as she ducked to the right, catching the dagger neatly with her left hand.

"Wow!" Cyrelle called down to her. "You've got to teach me to do that!"

"Maybe another day," Xena responded, "but it's a lot harder to catch a dagger than it is to throw one." Then, glancing up at the sun, she said, "Right now it's about time for us to go to the funeral pyre."

"Okay," the girl said reluctantly. And, tucking herself into a flip, she quickly joined Xena on the ground.

When they stepped out into the street, they saw Gabrielle coming from the tavern, a lighted torch in her hand.

"Gosh, it's so dark out here -- I'm glad you brought a torch!" Cyrelle teased.

Gabrielle smirked at her. "It's for lighting the pyre," she said.

"Right," the girl responded. Then she added, "I'm going on ahead, okay? I want to show Lyceus my dagger."

Xena nodded, and Cyrelle took off running out the northwest gate. The two women followed at a slower pace.

Gabrielle glanced up at Xena. "Don't you think it's kind of spooky," she said, "the way Cyrelle doesn't seem to mind having a dagger that was just used to commit suicide?"

"Yeah," Xena agreed, "and what's even spookier is how fast she learned to throw it."

"She can already throw it accurately? After only one lesson?"

"Uh-huh. My guess is she would be able to master any weapon she picked up -- and in a very short amount of time."

"Does that scare you?"

"Yes."

Gabrielle nodded. "It scares me, too," she said. Then she hesitated, as if she were about to say something else on the same topic. But she apparently reconsidered, and changed the subject instead. "Oh, guess what," she said, "Acantha told me she feels like cooking dinner, and Cyrelle is helping serve, so Lyceus and I will be home tonight."

"Good, but what are we going to eat?"

"I'll bring some stew home from the tavern."

"Okay," Xena said, nodding.

Gabrielle laughed. "Were you afraid you might have to cook?"

"No, I was just afraid for you, if you had to eat my cooking," Xena responded with a grin.

Gabrielle laughed again, and then, shifting the torch to her left hand, she linked her right arm through Xena's left one. They continued on in companionable silence until they reached the place near the river where the funeral pyre had been built.

Lyceus and Cyrelle were standing to one side, talking, while Toris paced, seemingly impatient for the two women to arrive. "Is anyone else coming?" he asked as soon as Xena and Gabrielle came up to him.

"Not that I know of," Xena said. "We're the only ones in town who knew him."

"Fine. Let's get this done, then," Toris said.

"Do you want to light it?" Gabrielle asked Xena, offering her the torch.

The warrior reached out to take it and walked slowly to the pyre. She looked at the wrapped figure for a moment, and then said, in a voice for all to hear, "We honor your memory, Arsenios. You were a good warrior and a good friend. May you find peace on the other side." And thrusting the torch into the pyre, she waited for the oil-soaked wood to catch. Then moving on, she did the same in three other places. Finally, she tossed the torch into the fire and went back to stand beside Gabrielle.

Looking over at Lyceus, Xena saw the boy staring at the fire with an expression of deep solemnity. Cyrelle, meanwhile, was toying with Arsenios' dagger, apparently fascinated by the reflection of the flames on the blade.

Xena turned her eyes back to the pyre, and watched as the greedy flames devoured the wood and then wrapped themselves around the body in a fierce embrace. The smell of burning flesh wafted toward her, filling her mind with vivid images from those warlord years when Arsenios had served in her army.

After a time, Gabrielle touched her arm, and Xena turned to look at the younger woman.

"I think I'll go on back now, unless you need me for something," Gabrielle said. "I have to take care of a few more things at the tavern, and then I'll be home for supper."

"Okay. Don't forget the stew."

"I won't," Gabrielle said with a grin. Then she headed off across the field to the road.

Xena watched her until, hearing footsteps, she looked to see Cyrelle coming toward her.

"I'm going to go practice with my dagger for a little while," the girl said.

"Aren't you supposed to work at the tavern?" Xena asked.

"Yes, but not till suppertime."

"All right. Just make sure you get there on time."

"I will," Cyrelle said, then took off running toward the trees that lined the river. In a short time, she was out of sight.

Xena glanced over at Lyceus, who stood still gazing at the fire. She went over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you doing all right?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'm just a little sad is all."

The warrior nodded. "I'm feeling sad, too," she said.

"Lyceus," Toris called, "why don't you take the cart on back to the stable. I'll stay here until the fire burns down."

"Okay," the boy said. He turned to look at Argo, who was tied to a tree some paces away. Then he looked back. "Xena, do you want a ride back to town?" he asked.

She started to say yes, then hesitated and glanced over at Toris. "No, thanks," she said. "You go ahead, and I'll be along in a little while."

Lyceus nodded and headed toward the horse and cart.

Xena looked again at her brother, who was now busying himself with poking the fire. She waited until he finished and then approached him. He did not look at her, but she was certain he was aware of her presence.

"Toris," she said, and saw the muscles of his jaw tighten. She took a deep breath and went on, "I'm sorry about this morning. You're my brother, and I love you. I don't want us to be fighting, especially when Amphipolis is in danger. And I really do need your help planning the defense."

He looked at her then and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Are you sure about that?" he asked.

"Yes, quite sure. When can we get together to talk strategy?"

"Not tonight," he said. "I'll be too busy at the tavern."

"How about tomorrow morning? I can come by after breakfast."

A strange look came over his face, but after a moment he nodded and said, "All right. Come by tomorrow morning."

"Okay," she said, "and thanks for doing this," she added, nodding toward the funeral pyre.

"You can come back and get the ashes tomorrow, if you want them," Toris said.

Xena considered for a few moments. "No," she said, "I think we'll just let the wind scatter them to the fields and river." She paused and then asked, "Do you want me to stay here and watch the fire so you can get back?"

"No," he said quickly, "I can do it."

"All right then. I'll see you tomorrow." She turned to go, but then he called her back.

"Xena," he said, "I know I don't say it very often, but I couldn't have asked for a better sister than you." His voice trembled slightly and he stopped speaking. Then he smiled at her and shook his head. "It's just that you drive me nuts sometimes -- especially when you seem to think that your opinion is the only one that counts."

"Yeah," she admitted, "it's a bad habit of mine, and you're not the first person to mention it." She smiled back at him. "I'll try to do better in the future," she promised.

"Okay." He hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Xena, if anything should happen--" He broke off suddenly, and quickly added, "Never mind."

"If anything should happen . . . what?"

He shook his head. "Forget it," he insisted. "I don't even know what I was going to say." He was not looking at her now, but at the fire, his face impassive.

She studied him, wondering what was in his mind. "All right," she said at last. "I guess I'll go on back to town. See you in the morning."

He nodded, glancing over at her. "Bye, Xena," he said.

"Bye," she echoed, then turned and headed for home.

* * * * *

She made her way back at a leisurely pace, passing along the rutted road between the homes and small farms that lay outside the city walls. She went through the northwest gate, and had almost reached the house when she heard running footsteps and someone calling her name. Looking up, she saw a man hurrying toward her, carrying a young girl in his arms. Another girl ran beside him, clutching the edge of his tunic.

"Maphias," she called, "what happened?"

"It's Alala," he panted as he came up to her. "She cut her leg and I can't get the bleeding stopped!"

Xena folded back the girl's chiton to reveal a blood-soaked bandage tied around one thigh. Alala made no sound, although her pale face was streaked with tears "What a brave girl you are," Xena said, smiling and laying a hand briefly on Alala's head. Then she opened the door to her hut and stepped aside. "Lay her down on the cot," she instructed Maphias.

He nodded and went into the hut. The second girl started to follow him, but Xena stopped her and reached out to turn her face up to the light.

"Damala," she said, "why are you crying? Are you hurt, too?"

"No," the girl responded. "I'm crying because Alala is hurt."

Xena put an arm around the small shoulders and pulled the girl close for a moment. "You're a very good sister," she said, then ushered her through the doorway.

Six summers earlier, Maphias' wife Hesper had almost died giving birth to these twin girls. But when the midwives saw that the labor was not going well, they had summoned Xena, and her surgical skill had saved both mother and babies. Ever since then, the healer had taken a special interest in the two girls, spending time with them whenever she had a little to spare. But all that had changed last year when Hesper died of a sudden fever.

Remembering the sad event made Xena sigh, but she quickly put the memory out of her mind and followed Damala into the hut. Leaning her crutch against the wall, she took a pile of linen bandages from the shelf, dragged a low stool over next to the cot, and sat down. Damala promptly took a position at the healer's side, where she could hold her sister's hand.

Xena began to unbind the wound, then glanced up at Maphias. "Could you pour some water into that basin and bring it to me, please?" she asked.

He nodded, apparently relieved to be given something to do.

She continued to unwrap the bandage and then pressed a folded cloth down firmly on the still-bleeding wound.

"Ow! That hurts!" Alala exclaimed, and began to whimper.

"I know it does, Sweetheart," Xena said. "I'll bet it hurts a lot."

The girl nodded. Her whimpering stopped, but fresh tears ran down her face.

Lifting the compress for a moment, Xena studied the jagged gash. It was almost a handsbreadth in length, and appeared to be fairly deep. "This is a nasty cut," she said, looking at Alala. "How did you get it?"

The twins looked at each other, and then Damala said in a small voice, "We were playing with a saw."

"Playing with a saw!" Xena said. "In your father's shop?"

"It was my fault," Maphias said, setting the basin of water on the end of the cot. "I should have been watching them more closely, but Sandros and I got busy working on a fancy cabinet we're building and, well, I forgot to check on the girls."

"Hmm," Xena said as she lifted the compress to look at the wound again. "I would think two big girls like you wouldn't have to be watched every minute. Does your father usually let you play with saws?"

"No," Alala admitted. "He told us never to play with them."

"Oh. Well, it looks like he had a good reason for telling you that, doesn't it?"

"We won't do it ever again," Damala said solemnly. "We've learned our lesson now."

"Good. I'm very glad to hear that," Xena said, smiling at them. Then she applied a new compress to Alala's leg. The bleeding hadn't stopped completely, but she judged that it had slowed enough for her to go ahead and stitch the wound. "Maphias, could you hold this for a minute?" she said, nodding toward the compress. "I need to get a few things."

"Yes, of course," he said, and crouched down beside the cot. "Is she going to be all right?" he asked anxiously.

"I think she'll be fine," Xena said, smiling to reassure him. Maphias had known so much loss already -- his mother and two oldest children during the smallpox epidemic, and then his wife last year.

"You mean she'll be fine unless the wound gets infected," he said.

Xena stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's hope that doesn't happen," she said, then turned and limped to the other side of the narrow room.

"What does 'infected' mean?" asked Damala.

"Well," said Maphias, "it's when you have a cut and it gets all red and swollen and--"

"Like that time with my finger?" the girl asked.

"Yes, exactly like that," he said.

"What makes it get infected?" asked Alala.

"No one knows," said Xena. "Personally, I think it's just another way the gods like to torment us."

"Don't talk like that! You'll bring down a curse on us!" Maphias exclaimed. Then he added, "I'll go to the temple of Artemis this evening and make an offering to appease her."

Xena shrugged and said, "An offering can't hurt anything, I suppose." How could she have forgotten that Maphias was part of the large cult of townspeople devoted to Artemis? Perhaps it was time to steer the conversation in a safer direction. "I heard that Sandros is betrothed," she said as she took out a piece of parchment with several needles stuck through it. She selected one, and then found a spool of thin sinew and a small knife to cut it with.

"Yes, the wedding will be in the spring," Maphias said. "I tell you, Xena, it makes a man feel old to think of his son getting married."

"Just wait until you start having grandchildren," Xena said with a grin.

"Please! One thing at a time!" he begged, laughing.

The healer laughed, too, as she resumed her seat on the stool. She had really missed talking to her old childhood friend this past year. "How about your younger boys," she asked. "What are they up to these days?"

"Oh, I don't see much of those two anymore, except at mealtime. They spend most of their day at school or at the gymnasium."

Xena nodded. "I'm not sure what this town ever did before we built that gymnasium," she said. "All the young men seem to like hanging out there. Lyceus would go every day, if he could, but Toris has been keeping him pretty busy at the tavern lately."

"How's Cyrelle?" Maphias asked.

"She's fine, but getting wilder all the time," the healer said, smiling and shaking her head.

"Is she still picking fights with everybody?"

"No, I think she's finally grown out of that," Xena said, then added, "At least I hope so." She lifted the compress off Alala's wound and, dipping a clean cloth in the water basin, wrung it out and carefully washed some of the dried blood off the girl's leg. "How's that cut feel now?" she asked. "Is it still hurting?"

"Yes," Alala said, as tears began to fill her eyes again.

"Okay, just be brave for a couple more minutes," Xena said, "and then before I stitch it, I'll make it so it doesn't hurt."

The girl nodded and reached up to brush away her tears.

"Now, Damala," the healer said, turning to the other twin, "if you think it might make you feel sick to watch while I sew up your sister's leg, you can go play in the courtyard for a little while."

Damala shook her head and tightened her grip on Alala's hand. "I'm staying right here with my sister," she said.

Xena gave Maphias a questioning look.

"I think she'll be all right," he said. "They do everything together."

"Okay," Xena said, putting her hand on Damala's shoulder. "But if you start to feel bad, will you tell us?"

"Yes."

"Good girl." Then Xena cut a length of sinew off the spool and threaded the needle.

"Xena?" said Damala.

"What, Sweetheart?"

"Why don't you ever come to see us anymore since our mother died?"

"Yeah," Alala chimed in. "We miss you."

Xena glanced at Maphias and saw a look of chagrin on his face. He started to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him.

"I'm sorry," she said to the twins. "I guess I just felt really bad that I couldn't keep your mother from dying, and I--"

"Was it your fault she died?" asked Alala, wide-eyed.

"No," Maphias said quickly. "It wasn't Xena's fault or anyone's fault." He stopped and looked at the healer. "It's taken me a long time to see that," he went on in a softer tone. "I guess I thought having someone to blame would make me feel better, but it didn't. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Yes, of course I can, Maphias," Xena said. "I've blamed myself for Hesper's death, too. She was a dear friend, just as you are, and I only wish . . ." Her voice became rough with emotion and trailed off. Then she finished, "Well, I know all of you must miss her very much."

"We do," Damala assured her. Then she added, "Sometimes Alala and I still cry."

"That's good," Xena said, giving her a sad smile. "It's good to cry about people we miss." Then she turned her attention to the injured twin. "Okay," she said, "I'm just going to put a little pinch on your leg, so it won't hurt for a few minutes." Then she touched the pressure points and saw Alala smile with relief. "I can't leave the pinch on very long," she warned, as she bent close and began to stitch the wound, "and it may hurt even more when I release it. But I'll give you some herbs for the pain."

The girl nodded. "Daddy," she said, looking up at Maphias, "I'm glad you brought me here to see Xena. She's nicer than Petros."

"And prettier, too!" Damala added.

"Well, thank you," Xena said with a grin, "but I always thought Petros was a very nice man."

"He scares us," Damala said.

"Scares you?"

"Yeah," Alala said, "because he has all those big white whiskers."

"You mean his beard?" Xena asked. "Does his beard scare you?"

"Uh-huh," Alala said, and made a move to sit up.

"Hold still, Sweetie," Xena said, quickly pushing the girl back down. "If you don't, I might end up sewing your knee to your chin, and that would look really weird."

Both girls broke out in giggles, and then Damala said, "Petros isn't half as much fun as you are, Xena."

"Maybe Petros doesn't make very many jokes," Maphias said, "but he's still a nice man. Although," he went on, addressing himself to Xena, "his methods seem a little old-fashioned compared to yours."

"Well, Petros never stitches wounds -- he only cauterizes," Xena said, "and he doesn't use pressure points. But he's a skilled healer, and I've learned quite a few things about herbs from him." She pulled the last stitch tight, tied if off, and cut the sinew. "Okay, we're all done," she said, smiling at Alala.

"Is it going to hurt again now?" the girl asked.

"Yes, but I'll give you some herbs first, before I release the pressure points." She got up and went to a shelf. Taking down a jar of opium, she put a little of the powder in a mug with some water and handed it to Maphias. "Have her drink this," she said.

"What is it?" he asked, sniffing at the mug.

"Opium," she said. "I'll give you a little more for tonight, to make sure she can sleep. After that, I think willow bark will be all she needs."

He nodded and helped the girl sit up.

"It tastes yucky!" she protested after the first swallow.

"Yes, but it will make the pain go away," Maphias said, "so you need to drink it all."

Alala made a face and then drank again.

The healer put some opium into a small cloth bag, and willow bark in a second one. She handed these to Maphias when he returned the mug.

"Xena," he said, "I can pay you as soon as we collect for the table we're delivering tomorrow. Or would you rather have me make something for you?"

She considered for a few moments. "Well, we don't really need any new furniture right now," she said, "so maybe the money would be-- Oh, I know what you could do."

"What?"

"Toris has been complaining about some of the tables and chairs at the tavern getting wobbly. Do you think you could--"

"Oh, sure," the carpenter said. "I'll go over there one day and see if I can tighten them up. Probably some of the pegs are just worn out or broken."

She nodded. "Thanks, Maphias," she said. Then she moved back to the cot, and bending down, lifted Alala in her arms. "I'm going to let your daddy hold you while I do this," she said, and gestured with her head for Maphias to sit on the cot.

"Xena," Damala said, "will Alala get to walk with a crutch like you do?"

"Yeah, will I?" Alala asked excitedly.

"No, I don't really think you'll need a crutch," Xena said, grinning, as she lowered the girl into her father's arms.

"Are you sure?" Alala asked in a disappointed tone.

"I'm sure," the healer said, laughing. "But trust me, using a crutch isn't nearly as much fun as it looks." Then she added, "I do want you to be careful, though, while you've got those stitches. Don't be running and jumping and doing stuff that will make them break."

"Okay," Alala promised.

She looked up at the healer, but her eyes seemed to have lost their focus, and Xena knew that the opium was starting to take effect. Reaching down, she gently released the pressure points. The girl let out a wail and began to cry, but only half-heartedly. Maphias held her close, rocking her and murmuring softly until the girl's eyes closed and her body relaxed. Damala, meanwhile, edged closer to Xena and slipped her small hand into the healer's.

Xena smiled down at her while debating in her mind whether she should tell Maphias about Demetri's planned attack on Amphipolis. Maphias was one of the four men who sat on the town council, and his father, Basil, was the town elder. They would all need to know soon, but right now, while Maphias was worried about his daughter, did not seem like the best time to break the news. And anyway, Xena reasoned, it might be better to wait until she had talked to Toris. Otherwise, he would accuse her of acting on her own again.

"I'll come by to see Alala tomorrow," Xena said. "Can Basil stay with her while you're at the shop?"

"Yes, he should be able to," Maphias said. "He used to watch them every day, but lately, with his arthritis so bad, he hasn't felt like trying to keep up with two six-year-olds."

Xena nodded. "He came by here yesterday to get some herbs," she said. "Well, I'll come check on Alala, and on him, too."

"Okay," Maphias said, standing up with the sleeping child in his arms. "I guess we'd better get this one home to bed. Thanks so much for everything."

"You're welcome. I'll see you all tomorrow." She limped to the door and held it open for him. "Goodbye, Damala," she said, patting the girl on the head.

"Bye, Xena," Damala responded. "I'm glad we're friends again."

"Me too," the healer said with a smile. Then she watched the three of them walk out into the street and turn toward home.

CHAPTER 8

After Maphias and his daughters left, Xena gathered up the bloody compresses and carried them out to the courtyard. She dropped them into a wooden tub, then poured in water from the two water jugs. Pushing the stained cloths down into the water until they were all wet, she left them to soak, and carried the jugs back into the house. She had used up all the water, which meant she would now have to go to the well. With a sigh, she got out the harness she had designed some years ago to make it possible to carry two jugs while using her crutch, and put it on. Then she headed out the door.

The late afternoon sun beat down on the dusty streets, and the air smelled of earth, wood smoke, and animal dung. At this hour, most people were resting in the cool shelter of their clay-brick houses, and the streets were virtually empty. Xena smiled as she walked along, thinking of all the times she had run through these lanes as a girl, feeling the dirt soft and warm beneath her bare feet. She would never have dreamed, once she became a warrior, that she would spend her latter days in Amphipolis.

Of course, a lot had changed since her childhood. In fact, a lot had changed even in the seventeen years since she and Gabrielle had come here to live. The wall had been built, and the gymnasium, mining and woodcutting had become big business, and the small-village feel of the place had been almost completely lost. But that day when they had arrived from Mt. Nestos, riding in the creaky old cart through a cold, winter drizzle -- that day Amphipolis had still looked like the town where she had grown up, the town her brother Lyceus had died defending. And on that day Xena had felt as if she were coming home.

They arrived just after midday, having traveled for days on roads clogged with heavy mud that clung to the cart wheels and made their progress frustratingly slow. Gabrielle had walked much of the time, in an effort to lighten the load, and whenever the cart mired down, she helped push it free. Xena had insisted on getting out the first time the cart got stuck, but quickly discovered that walking in the deep, sucking mud with a crutch was practically impossible.

Their first glimpse of the town, as they approached from the east, brought smiles of relief to the two women's faces. The condition of the road improved somewhat, and Gabrielle was able to resume her seat beside Xena in the cart.

"Cyrene probably won't let me in the house looking like this," the younger woman said.

Xena glanced over at her mud-caked companion and smiled. "Yes, she will," she said. "Mother will be so glad to see us that she won't care what we look like."

But the streets of the town appeared strangely silent and deserted, even for a winter's afternoon. And a heavy sense of sadness seemed to hang over everything.

"I wonder if a lot of people died from the smallpox," Gabrielle said, putting words to the fear that Xena had not yet allowed herself to feel.

"I don't know," the warrior responded.

Neither woman spoke again until they reached the tavern. Xena drove Argo around the north end of the building and into the courtyard.

"Do you want me to unhitch her?" Gabrielle asked.

"No, let's go in first and say hello. Maybe if we're lucky, Toris will offer to put her in the stable and curry her down."

They climbed out of the cart and went in through the back door of the tavern room. The place was dark and empty, with no fire burning on the hearth. The two women exchanged glances, and then Xena headed for the kitchen door, with Gabrielle following her. Pushing through into the other room, the warrior was relieved to see a man standing silhouetted in the warm light of the fireplace. "Hey, big brother," she called.

He turned, clearly surprised. "Xena?" he said. "And Gabrielle?" He came toward them, smiling, and when he got close enough, Xena suddenly saw the pockmarks that scarred the rugged features of his face.

"You were sick," she said, advancing a step or two.

He stopped, staring at her crutch. "Yeah," he said, "and what happened to you?"

"I broke my leg."

"Oh," he said, and his voice took on a cynical tone. "So you've come home to be taken care of while you get healed up, is that it?" he asked.

Xena looked at him, puzzled, and then said, "No, that's not it at all. My leg's pretty much as healed up as it's going to get." She hesitated, then continued, "The fact is, I can't be a warrior anymore, so I've come back home to stay."

"And do what?" Toris demanded. "Let me support you because you're lame now?"

"We don't need to be supported!" Gabrielle broke in hotly. "We're perfectly capable of supporting ourselves! Xena is going to be a healer, and I-- Well, I was going to offer to work in the tavern, but if you don't want me, I'll find something else to do."

He looked at them for a moment and then shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "I guess I've been a little crazy ever since--" He stopped speaking and hurried across the room to get a bench. "You must be cold and tired," he went on. "Why don't you take off those wet cloaks and come sit by the fire. I really am glad you're here -- even though I'm not acting like it." He smiled and then carried the bench over and set it in front of the fire.

Gabrielle gave Xena a questioning look, and the older woman shrugged. Toris was acting strangely, and she couldn't really explain why -- even if he was her brother. She took off her cloak and handed it to Gabrielle. Then she moved to the bench and sat down, laying her crutch on the floor.

"Would you like some mead?" Toris asked.

"Yes, that sounds good," Gabrielle said as she joined Xena on the bench.

"Okay, I'll get it," he said, and went through the door into the tavern room.

"What's up with him?" Gabrielle whispered. "One minute he's being really nice, and the next he's yelling at us. I don't get it. And did you see his face?" she went on. "I used to think he was so good-looking, but now--"

"I know," Xena said softly. She stretched out her feet toward the fire, staring into the flames while she tried to ignore the feeling of uneasiness that sat like lead in her stomach.

Toris came back into the kitchen carrying three wooden tankards. "Are you hungry?" he asked as he handed the drinks to the women. "I've got some dried figs and cheese over in the house."

"We already ate," Xena said, taking a sip of mead, "but thanks."

He nodded and then pulled a chair over near their bench and sat down.

Xena studied him in silence for a moment and then asked, "Where's Mother?"

Toris closed his eyes as an expression of pain crossed his face. Then he looked at Xena. "She's dead," he said quietly.

"Dead," Xena repeated in a whisper. She thought she had known and survived every kind of grief that life could possibly bring, but now, feeling this fresh, new pain, she knew that she was wrong. Gabrielle took hold of her hand, and Xena squeezed it gratefully.

"Was it smallpox?" the younger woman asked.

"Yes," Toris said. "I got it first. I was so sick -- I was sure I was dying. But she nursed me through it somehow. And then she got it. I was still weak and could barely drag myself out of bed, but I did my best to take care of her. A couple of the neighbor women helped out, too, but--" He sighed and shook his head. Then he got up and went to stand beside the fireplace.

Xena felt her throat tighten and knew it would be useless to try to speak. Tears burned her eyes and then began to slide down her cheeks. She tightened her grip on Gabrielle's hand and stared at the fire while memories crowded into her mind.

But her reverie was cut short when Toris spoke again. "You should have been here, Xena," he said.

She looked up at him, surprised by his harsh tone of accusation.

"Mother asked for you," he went on. "She asked for you over and over again, and I didn't know what to tell her. It didn't seem to matter that I was there with her -- the only person she wanted was you."

"Toris, I--"

"And then at the end," he said, cutting her off, "Mother began to talk about Lyceus." He paused for a moment and his tone softened. "Well, she wasn't so much talking 'about' him as she seemed to be talking 'to' him. I think he must have come back to take her to the other side," he finished. "Anyway, they're together now. I feel certain of that." Then he wiped his sleeve across his eyes.

There was a moment of silence, and Gabrielle said, "We were trying to get here, Toris. We heard about the smallpox from an innkeeper when we were on the way to Poteidaia. We were worried about you and Cyrene, so we changed our plans and headed for Amphipolis."

She stopped. Toris was staring down at his mead as he swirled it slowly in the mug. He did not speak, but it appeared that he was listening.

"Anyway," Gabrielle went on, "we would have gotten here if we hadn't had the accident. But the roads were so muddy, and Argo slipped--" She glanced at the warrior and then back at Toris. "Xena was hurt so badly that we didn't think it was a good idea to go on to Amphipolis. We went to Mt. Nestos instead, to see if Nicklio could set her leg so it would heal properly."

There was another silence -- longer this time. Xena watched her brother while she tried to get control of her feelings. At last she said, "When did Mother die?"

He looked at her then, his face lined with sorrow. "About two and a half months ago," he said.

Xena nodded. "We could have been here in time," she said sadly. "I'm so sorry, Toris."

"I just felt so helpless, watching her die," he said.

"You shouldn't have had to go through that alone," Xena responded. "But I'm sure Mother was glad to have you here, even if she didn't say so."

He nodded, but said nothing.

"Did a lot of people die?" Gabrielle asked.

"Yes. More than a hundred."

"That's about a fifth of the population, isn't it?" Xena said in quiet wonder.

"Yes. I don't think there's a family here who didn't lose someone," Toris responded. "The funeral pyres burned for days. The stench was awful. But then we ran out of wood because the woodcutters were afraid to come to town to bring us any."

"What happened to Mother's body? Is she--"

"She's in the family crypt, next to Lyceus."

Xena nodded. "What about the tavern? It doesn't look like you're doing much business."

"I just opened up again about a month ago to serve drinks in the evenings," he said. "We're not getting any travelers through here yet -- not that we get many in winter anyway. But this year there are even fewer because folks are scared of the sickness. The townspeople like to come here, though," he went on. "It gives them a chance to get out of the house and try to forget their sorrows for a while."

"So you're not serving any food?" Gabrielle said.

"No. There are no overnight guests needing meals, and besides," he added with a rueful grin, "I'm a terrible cook."

"Toris and I are a lot alike in that respect," Xena said to Gabrielle. "Lyceus was the only one who inherited our mother's cooking abilities."

Gabrielle laughed. "Well, you're in luck, because now you have me to do the cooking," she said. "And I can also tell stories, and make beds, and sweep the floors, and do whatever else needs doing around here."

Toris looked at her with new interest. "So you're really serious about staying here and helping out," he said.

"Sure, if you'll let us," Gabrielle said.

"And Xena, what it is you're going to do?"

"Be a healer."

"A healer? But we've already got a healer. We've got Petros."

"I know, but this town is growing fast," Xena said. "There's probably already enough work for two healers."

"Growing fast?" scoffed Toris. "How can you say that when we just lost a hundred people to smallpox?"

"That's just a temporary setback. Amphipolis is already more than twice the size it was when we were growing up, and my guess is that the population will double again in the next fifteen or twenty years."

"Do you really think so?" Toris asked in surprise.

"Yes," Xena said, nodding. "As soon as the rains stop, the traders will start coming through again. And the miners and woodcutters will be back, too. Some of those people will settle here, and so will the people who cater to them."

"And some of them are sure to need a healer," Gabrielle said.

"Maybe so," Toris said doubtfully, "but Xena, do you really think people are going to be able to think of you as a healer instead of as a warrior?"

"I hope so. But it will take time. I have to admit I'm having some trouble getting used to the idea myself."

He nodded, then drained his mug and set it on the table. "Well," he said, "you two would probably like to get settled in. I've been using Mother's room, but if you want that one, I can--"

"No," Xena said quickly. "We'll just use my old room, like we usually do." Then she looked at her lover. "I mean, if that's okay with Gabrielle."

"It's fine with me," the younger woman said. "I like that room."

"Okay," Toris said.

"I need to take care of Argo before I do anything else," Xena said. "And we've got a cart now, too."

"A cart? Why did you get a cart?"

"Because I can't ride anymore, with my bum leg," Xena admitted. "The cart's kind of old and rickety, but it got us here."

"Hey, don't say bad things about that cart!" warned Gabrielle. "I worked my butt off to pay for it!"

"Yes, you did," Xena said, grinning at her, "and I will never, ever say anything bad about it again."

"Well, a cart could come in pretty handy around here," Toris said, "and a horse, too. Mine died last spring."

"What happened to him?" asked Gabrielle.

"Just got old, I guess," Toris said. "Anyway, I'll go out and take care of Argo. I just hope I've got some grain or hay left. It's been several months since I've even had a horse in that stable."

He stood up and turned toward the door, but before he could leave, Xena said, "Toris, there's something else you should know."

"What?" he asked, apparently puzzled by the serious tone of her voice.

"I'm pregnant," she said.

"Pregnant!" he exclaimed, staring at her in amazement. "Who's the father?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Oh. So you don't even know who it is."

"Yes, I do. I know exactly who it is, but I've chosen not to tell anyone."

"Well, why not?" demanded her brother. "Why are you protecting him? He's married, isn't he? Otherwise he would take responsibility for the child, and help you raise it."

"Believe me, the father of my child would be more than happy to help raise it. But I won't let him. I won't let him anywhere near this child, if I can help it."

Toris frowned. "I don't understand. Is he abusive?"

Xena considered for a moment. "Let's just say that he and I don't see eye-to-eye on some very important matters."

"But, Xena--"

"No more questions," she said firmly. "I've told you as much as you need to know, and that's the end of it."

"You've told me almost nothing," he said.

"Toris," Gabrielle broke in, "you're going to be an uncle. Don't you think that will be fun?"

He looked at her for a moment as if she were some sort of strange creature he had never seen before. Then he turned his gaze on Xena. "So this is the real reason you came home," he said, walking over to stand in front of her. "You want Uncle Toris to work hard and support you and your baby while you play at being a healer."

"No!" Xena cried, standing up to face him. "I came home to have my baby because I wanted Mother to know her grandchild. But now she's dead, and she'll never even know she has one!" She tried to hold back the tears, but when she couldn't, she pressed her hand hard against her mouth. "I never even got to tell her goodbye," she murmured.

After a moment, she felt Toris' arms go around her, and she buried her face against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm sorry I let her die."

She shook her head and pulled back to look at him. "It wasn't your fault," she said, brushing the tears off his scarred cheek. "I know you did everything you could. I just wish I could have been here."

"I wish you could have, too," he whispered, as he hugged her close again.

* * * * *

Xena and Gabrielle moved into the house behind the tavern, and started trying to think of it as home. But it felt strange to be settling down after spending all their life together on the road. And for Xena it was doubly hard, since the place where she had grown up no longer seemed like home without her mother there.

Gabrielle cooked for the three of them, and at night she told stories in the tavern. Business picked up almost at once, as whole families began coming to hear the bard's tales. Toris decided to serve food again -- at first just bread and cheese, along with some dried fruit, for the evening patrons. But then, as the roads dried out and word spread that the epidemic was over, travelers began arriving again, needing food and lodging.

Xena, for her part, did the family's sewing, making new chitons for Gabrielle, and trousers for Toris and herself. She also tried her hand at tavern work, but a couple of days spent seated at the kitchen table, cutting up dried fish and vegetables, were all it took to drive her to distraction. Luckily, by that time, the first spring plants were coming up, so she hitched Argo to the cart and began roaming the countryside in search of herbs. And as word spread that the Warrior Princess had turned healer, sick and injured people started showing up on Xena's doorstep with increasing regularity.

The baby, meanwhile, grew steadily within her, moving and kicking with surprising strength.

"Xena," Gabrielle said one night when the two women lay snuggled together in bed, "what are you going to do when Ares shows up and wants to take the baby?"

"Don't worry," Xena said. "I can deal with Ares."

"You have a plan, then?"

"Did you ever know me not to have a plan?"

"No," Gabrielle admitted, laughing, and gave Xena a kiss. After that, she did not ask about Ares again.

The days lengthened and grew hotter, although the nights were usually cool. The summer solstice came, and on an evening twelve days later, Xena went into labor. Just after dawn, the baby girl was born into Gabrielle's arms. Healthy and energetic, she cried lustily as the bard lifted her up for Xena to see, and then laid her on the warrior's breast.

"What are you going to call her?" the younger woman asked as she prepared to cut the umbilical cord.

"Cyrelle."

"Cyrelle? I never heard that name before."

"I made it up," Xena said, "to honor the two women who have meant the most in my life -- my mother and you."

"You combined our names -- Cyrene and Gabrielle," said the bard, and smiled. "It's a beautiful name. Thank you." She stopped for a moment to blink back tears. "I feel honored, and I'm sure Cyrene would feel the same way."

"I just wish she could be here," Xena said with a sad smile as she guided the baby's mouth to a nipple.

"Me, too," Gabrielle responded. Then she spread a blanket over the mother and child. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

"No. All I really want to do is sleep."

"Okay. I'll just go tell Toris that the baby's been born, and then I think I'll come back and join you in taking a nap."

"You must be tired, too," Xena said, "being pregnant yourself."

"Yeah, but I'm sure I'm not as tired as you are. I'm just glad I've got six months to rest up before it's my turn." She grinned and added, "Anyway, I'll be right back." Then she hurried out of the room.

Xena lay with her eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of her daughter's small mouth tugging at her breast. In a little while, the baby fell asleep, and Xena was just dozing off, herself, when she suddenly became aware of someone in the room. Opening her eyes, she saw Ares standing near the foot of the bed.

"So it's Cyrelle, is it?" he mused. "I guess I would have chosen something like Ariela or maybe Ariana -- you know, in honor of the father." He grinned and shook his head. "But if it's Cyrelle you want, then I guess that's what we'll call her," he finished.

"I've changed my mind, Ares," Xena said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. "I'm not going to let you have her."

"Oh, you're not, huh?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at her. "You're going to break our agreement and just stay a cripple all your life."

"Yes, if that's what it takes to save this child from a life of warfare and murder."

"You're weak and tired, and you're not even armed," he said as he moved around the end of the bed and started toward her. "Taking possession of my daughter shouldn't be all that difficult."

"Stop right there!" she commanded, putting a hand on the baby's head. "Come any closer, and I'll break her neck. And don't think I wouldn't do it, either."

He stopped and looked at her in a bemused way. "You would kill your own child?" he said.

"Yes. It would be better for her die right now than to have the kind of life I had when I was fighting for you."

He chuckled as he backed slowly away. "Well, it looks like motherhood really brings out the feistiness in you," he said. "I like that!"

She glared at him without speaking.

"Now, Xena," he went on, "I'm prepared to be flexible here because, to be honest, I suspected something like this might happen."

Gabrielle appeared at that moment in the doorway, and stopped in surprise. "Ares!" she exclaimed. "Well, you certainly didn't waste any time!" And bolting past him, she ran to the wall where Xena's sword hung, snatched the weapon from its scabbard, and held it pointed at him as she edged into a defensive position near the bed. "You're not taking the baby!" she declared.

"Yes, well, that's what I've been told," Ares said with an easy grin. "But Xena and I were just about to work out a new custody agreement."

"I keep the child," Xena said flatly. "That's all there is to it."

"Sure, why not?" he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You go right ahead and raise her. Then, when she's all grown up and ready to be my Warrior Queen, I'll come back and get her."

"She's never going to be your Warrior Queen, Ares," Xena growled.

"Of course she is. That's what she was born for. But you go ahead and enjoy her now, and when the time is right--"

"No!" exclaimed Gabrielle. "She's not going to follow you. We'll make sure she wants nothing to do with you. We'll teach her to love peace, and to hate everything you stand for."

"Teach her anything you like," said Ares with a shrug, "but you can't change her destiny. She's still my daughter, and the blood of War flows in her veins. She will be a warrior, whether you like it or not, and she will someday lead my army in a glorious battle for peace."

Xena shuddered and clutched the baby tighter. Cyrelle let out a wail of protest, and Gabrielle turned to look at them, then slowly lowered the sword.

"Do you hear that?" Ares said. "It's her battle cry." Then he laughed.

Xena looked down at the tiny form in her arms, and then at Ares. "No," she said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "No."

He laughed again, and then said, "Take good care of our child, Xena. I leave her in your hands for now, but I'll be back. You can count on that." And giving a wave that seemed almost like a salute, he vanished from the room.

"Shh, don't cry, Sweetheart," Xena murmured, rocking Cyrelle gently, and stroking the soft, dark hair of her head. The wailing gradually faded to a whimper, and at last subsided completely.

Gabrielle walked over to the wall and returned the sword to its place, then came back and climbed onto her side of the bed.

Xena looked at her. "What have I done?" she asked in a bleak tone of voice. "I've condemned my daughter to a life of war and bloodshed."

"No, Xena," Gabrielle said fiercely. "You're giving her a chance to rise above that -- to live a life full of joy and peace and love." She reached out to caress the warrior's cheek, and then leaned over to give her a gentle kiss. "How can two people who love each other as much as we do not raise a child who's also full of love?" she asked. "Don't listen to Ares. He doesn't know the first thing about love. But we do. We know just how powerful it can be."

Xena nodded, unable to speak because of the emotion that closed off her throat and brought the sharp sting of tears to her eyes.

"I think it's time we got some rest," Gabrielle said, rearranging the pillows so that Xena could lie down. Then she slipped under the covers, and curled up next to the new mother and her sleeping baby.

"Gabrielle," Xena whispered, "I love you."

"Mmm-hmm. Love you, too," the younger woman responded sleepily.

Xena smiled, and then almost at once fell asleep.

CHAPTER 9

"Xena, we need to talk," Gabrielle said after supper. "I thought maybe we could walk up to that little place by the river."

The older woman smiled and raised one eyebrow suggestively. "Oh, we need to 'talk,' do we?" she asked. "Well, should we take a blanket with us?"

Gabrielle smiled, too, as she realized how Xena had interpreted her words. Years ago, they had discovered a hidden alcove among the trees on the riverbank north of town, and they liked to go there when they needed some privacy. Sometimes they just talked, but often they made love, as well. Today, as it happened, Gabrielle had only been thinking about fulfilling her promise to Cyrelle, but if Xena was in the mood for other things . . . "We can take a blanket, if you like," the bard said, "but we really do need to talk."

"All right," Xena said. Then she got up from the table, gathered an armload of dirty dishes, and limped over to the shelf against the wall. "Of course, with Lyceus gone to the gymnasium and Cyrelle working at the tavern," she added, "we could probably just stay home and talk."

"Yes, you're right," Gabrielle agreed as she finished clearing the table, "and if you don't feel like walking, that's fine, but it's such a nice evening that I thought--" She stopped when Xena put an arm around her and pulled her close for a kiss.

"I think a little walk would do us both good," the warrior murmured. "And a little 'talk,' too. Let's just leave the dishes. I can wash them in the morning."

"Okay," Gabrielle said with a grin. "I'll go get a blanket."

They left the house and headed for the north gate. As they passed the tavern, the sound of voices and laughter drifted out through the open windows, along with yellow torchlight and the scent of roasting meat.

"I can't believe it was just last night that Lyceus was telling stories," Gabrielle said. "It seems like so much has happened since then."

"Yeah," Xena agreed, then added, "I talked to Toris at the funeral pyre this afternoon -- thought I'd better try to make up with him."

"And?"

"I think we got things pretty much squared away. We're getting together tomorrow morning to talk about defense strategy."

"But you didn't tell Maphias yet? About Demetri?"

"No. I'd like to get the town council involved as soon as possible, but I decided I'd better talk to Toris first -- you know, so he feels included."

Gabrielle nodded. "Well, I think you're right to try to keep peace in the family," she said, "and anyway, Toris may have some good ideas."

"Yes, I hope somebody has some good ideas," Xena said with a grim smile, "because so far I don't have too many, myself."

They went through the gate and continued along the road toward the bridge. Gabrielle glanced at the western sky, and saw that the sun was just slipping down behind the trees, leaving a golden-blue glow in its wake. Full night would fall before she and Xena came back this way, but the road ran flat and straight over the river plain, and it would not be hard to follow it in the dark.

Gabrielle looked over at her companion, who seemed to be deep in thought. Well, it was no wonder, with everything there was to worry about right now. The bard had been surprised, in fact, that Xena would even be interested in making love. And perhaps, once they had talked about Cyrelle, the warrior's mood would change. But that didn't matter, really. The two of them had shared so much and grown so close over the years that they didn't need sex to prove the depth of their love. The main thing was to have some time to spend alone together, without interruptions. That in itself was a rare treat these days.

They came to the bridge and started over it. A solid structure, built of large stone blocks, it boasted a roadbed wide enough for two wagons to pass. Halfway across, Gabrielle stopped to lean over the parapet and watch the river flow under the big stone arch below. To the west, she could see where the Strymon began its slow southward curve. And she knew that once it passed the town, it would bend back to the east before continuing on to the small port town of Eion, where it emptied into the sea.

"Yep," Xena said, coming over to stand beside the bard, "it's the same old river, going in the same old direction. Why do you always have to stop and look at it?"

"But it's not the same river," Gabrielle said. "It changes from one moment to the next. New water is always coming along to make it a whole new river."

"Hmm. I never thought about it like that before."

"It's kind of like our lives," the bard went on, settling into the philosophical mode. "Time flows along and it changes things, although we may not notice that it's happening. So even when we think we're doing the same thing twice, we aren't really. It's always different somehow."

"Like defending Amphipolis," Xena said. "It will be very different this time around. I know a lot more now than I did before, and I'm not going to lose another brother -- or anyone else I love. Not if I can help it."

"I know," Gabrielle said softly, and slipped an arm around her lover's waist.

The two of them stood watching the river in silence until the rumble of an approaching wagon called them away from their thoughts. Moving apart, they turned and headed north again along the road.

The trees were deep in shadow by the time the women reached their secret hideaway. Making their way to a spot about five paces from the riverbank, they spread the blanket on the grass and settled themselves comfortably on it.

"Okay, what do we need to talk about?" asked Xena.

"Cyrelle."

"Oh. What has she done now?"

"It's not anything she's done," Gabrielle said hastily. "It's just that she, uh, she was asking me today who her father is, and I've been thinking maybe it's time we told her."

Xena looked at the bard for a moment and then turned her gaze toward the river. "Why do you think that?" she asked quietly.

"Well, for one thing, Cyrelle says she has a right to know, and I guess I agree with her. But more importantly, I think she really needs to know -- for her own protection."

"From Ares?"

"Yes. He said he would come back, and if she doesn't even know who he is or how he might try to persuade her, she can't very well resist him. And anyway, if you don't tell her that Ares is her father, then he'll tell her himself. You can pretty much count on that."

Xena nodded, but said nothing for a time. "All right," she said finally, "I'll tell her." Then she looked at Gabrielle. "You seem surprised," she said.

"I guess I expected it to be harder to convince you."

"Yeah, well, all the things you just said -- I've been thinking them myself," Xena admitted. "But I hadn't made up my mind yet." She sighed and picked up a stick, studied it for a few moments, and then threw it into the river. It landed with a small splash and began to float downstream. "Okay, Gabrielle," Xena said, "tell me what you think about this. Cyrelle wants to learn to use a sword. Should I teach her? Should I let her become a warrior?"

Gabrielle considered this in silence while she watched the stick bob along until the current carried it out of sight among the twilight shadows. Then she said, "If Cyrelle is really determined to be a warrior, I think she'll find a way to be one, even if it means running away from home." She glanced over at Xena and saw the older woman shudder slightly. "Don't you think it would be better to teach her yourself," Gabrielle asked, "rather than let her learn from someone who's not as . . . principled?"

"So Ares was right," Xena said dully. "Cyrelle is destined to be a warrior."

"Well, she does seem to be heading in that direction," Gabrielle admitted, "but you've always said people make their own destinies. She can choose to fight for good and not for evil. We've taught her what it means to love, after all, and the value of peace--"

"Have we really taught her those things?"

"Yes, of course we have. I've always tried to tell her stories that show how senseless war is, and how it leads to innocent people getting hurt."

"But has she learned the lesson?" Xena persisted. "If she really valued peace, would she have spent most of her childhood getting into fights? Do you know how many parents have come screaming to me because Cyrelle beat their kids up?"

"Yeah, but that hasn't happened much lately, so maybe she's finally learning."

"Maybe. But she's never really had any friends. When we send her to get water, she doesn't stay to giggle and gossip with the other girls at the well. And she's always going off by herself for hours at a time. I have no idea where she goes or what she does. Do you?"

"No, but--"

"You say we've taught her to love, but I'm not even sure we've done that much."

"Of course we have, Xena! Cyrelle loves you, and she loves me, and she's always adored Lyceus--"

Xena sighed and shook her head. "I'd really like to believe that," she said, "but sometimes I'm convinced Cyrelle will never care about anyone except herself. I'm afraid she takes after her father in that way."

Gabrielle could no longer see her lover's face in the deepening dusk, but she could clearly hear the despair in the older woman's voice. She reached out and put an urgent hand on Xena's knee. "That's another reason Cyrelle should be told about Ares," she said. "He can never really love her -- he will only want to use her for his own selfish purposes. Cyrelle needs to know that, and she also needs to know what kind of sacrifice her mother made in order to keep her. Xena, you could have had your leg healed. You could have gone on being a warrior, but you gave all that up. Your daughter needs to hear that story. Then she'll see how much you love her."

Xena was silent for several long moments, and then, in a voice rough with emotion, she said, "I'm so afraid of losing her."

"I know. I am, too," Gabrielle said softly, as she moved over next to her companion and put an arm around her. The warrior sighed and laid her head on Gabrielle's shoulder. Then she took the bard's hand and clasped it between her own.

For a time, neither of them spoke, and the only sound was the gentle murmur of the river. Gabrielle cast about in her mind for words that might comfort her lover, but could think of nothing beyond what had already been said. She did remember something else, though, that she had meant to tell Xena, and decided this was as good a time as any. "Lyceus asked me this afternoon if I would teach him to fight with a staff," she said, "and I told him I would. Is that all right with you?"

"Yes, that's fine," Xena said, sitting up again. "And Cyrelle wants to learn, too, if you've got time to teach her."

"Sure, no problem."

"Oh, and she also wants to learn the sais -- but that was when I was still saying I wouldn't let her use a sword."

"Well, if she learns weapons as quickly as you say she does, she shouldn't have any trouble learning sword, staff, and sais, too."

Xena nodded. "We might as well teach her as much as she's willing to learn," she said. "Because the truth is, Cyrelle could prove quite useful to me in the defense effort -- assuming I can trust her to follow orders."

"Yes, well, getting her to do that may be easier said than done," Gabrielle said with a wry grin.

The warrior gave a small laugh. "You know, I feel a strange sense of relief now that we've had this little talk. I still wish there were some way to keep Cyrelle from being a warrior, but if there isn't, at least maybe channeling her energies into something she's interested in will make her easier to live with."

"Yeah. And you know, Xena, I really do believe we've had more of a positive influence on her than you might realize. I think she's going to want to fight for good, and not for evil."

"I certainly hope you're right," the older woman said. Then she wrapped both arms around Gabrielle in a fierce hug.

The younger woman enjoyed the warmth of the embrace for several minutes, and then reached up to pull Xena's face towards her. Their lips met, and she felt the old, familiar ache of desire begin. How was it possible that this woman still had such a powerful effect on her, even now, after all the years, and all the times they had made love? She became aware of Xena's breath, hot against her cheek, and the hunger of the warrior's mouth on her own. She ran her hands down her lover's back and then slid them around in front to feel the soft, full breasts.

The bard's breath was coming faster now, and she groaned a little as Xena pushed her gently down on the blanket, and then stretched out on top of her. The rushing sound of the river filled her ears, as Gabrielle felt her passion lift and carry her away, far away to a place where she and Xena drifted in ecstasy on a sea of endless love.

* * * * *

Gabrielle woke to the sound of someone pounding on the door. Disoriented by sleep, she thought she was still lying by the river, cradled in Xena's arms. But as she struggled toward wakefulness, she began to remember -- first, how the two of them had walked back to town arm-in-arm through the soft night, and then how they had been teased by Cyrelle and Lyceus. And she remembered, too, how Cyrelle's eyes had glowed when Xena told her they could begin sword-fighting lessons the next afternoon.

Later, when Gabrielle had gone out to the latrine, Cyrelle followed her into the courtyard, asking in an excited whisper, "Did you talk to her? Is she going to tell me about my father?" "Yes," the bard whispered in reply, "she's going to tell you, but it may be hard for her, so let her do it in her own time. If you push her, she just might end up changing her mind." The girl nodded, but she appeared disappointed, and Gabrielle hoped, for her sake, that Xena would not prolong the suspense.

After that, they had gone to bed, and now there was this infernal knocking. She heard the door open at last, and then Acantha's voice demanding, "Where's Xena? I have to talk to Xena!"

The healer was already out of bed and putting on her robe. "I'll be right there," she called to her sister-in-law. Then Gabrielle heard her take down her crutch and go into the other room, asking, "Are you sick again?"

Gabrielle grabbed her pillow and was preparing to put it over her head, when she heard Acantha say, "No. It's Toris. He's gone!"

"Gone? What do you mean?" asked Xena.

"He left this note, but I don't understand it. He said you would explain. So who's this Demetri? And Arsenios -- isn't he the man who killed himself? Why would Toris want to take Arsenios' head to Demetri?"

Suddenly wide awake, Gabrielle scrambled out of bed and fumbled in the dark for the peg where her own robe hung. Finding it by touch, she snatched the garment down and put it on while hurrying into the main room.

"Come over here and sit down at the table," Xena was saying in a voice that sounded calmer than Gabrielle imagined her lover actually felt.

She could just make out the black shapes of the two women moving toward the other end of the room. It was still so dark that she thought it must be the middle of the night, but glancing out the front window, she saw the first faint hints of gray in the eastern sky.

"Arsenios' head!" Cyrelle exclaimed as she got off her cot and headed toward the table. "What are you talking about, Acantha? Arsenios still had his head when we burned him on the pyre yesterday. Mother and I should know. We're the ones who wrapped up the body, and nothing was said about--"

"Cyrelle, since you're up," Xena interrupted, "could you please get the fire going? It's chilly in here, and we need to light a lamp so I can see what Toris wrote. Then I promise to explain everything."

Gabrielle glanced over and saw Lyceus' dark form standing beside his cot. She moved toward him, and when she got close, he took hold of her arm, and bent his head to whisper in her ear.

"Did Toris cut off Arsenios head?" he asked.

"It sounds like it," she whispered back.

"But why? Why would he do such a thing?"

"Let's let Xena explain," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the table.

"Sit down," the warrior said when they got near.

Gabrielle touched Xena's shoulder lightly as she moved past her to take a seat across from Acantha.

"I'll light the lamp," Lyceus said, and slid his hand across the table until it contacted the clay vessel. Picking it up, along with a taper, he walked over to the corner where Cyrelle knelt in front of the fireplace.

"How long do you think Toris has been gone?" Xena asked Acantha in a low voice.

"I'm not sure. Probably several hours," she said. "I was pretty tired by the time I finished washing the dishes last night, so he told me to go on to bed. The tavern wasn't very crowded, and he had Cyrelle to help with the serving, so I figured he could manage without me."

"Cyrelle told us he sent her home early," Gabrielle said.

"Well, it wasn't very crowded, like I said," Acantha went on. "Anyway, I must have slept for quite a while, and then I woke up and realized Toris hadn't come to bed. I lit a candle so I could go look for him, and that's when I found the note."

In the growing light from the fireplace, Gabrielle could now see the piece of parchment that Acantha fingered nervously as she talked. Lyceus came back toward them, carrying the lamp in one hand and a stool in the other. The lamp's flame cast strange, flickering shadows across his pale face. Setting the light carefully on the table, he backed away a pace or so, put the stool down, and seated himself on it.

Acantha handed the parchment to Xena, who quickly scanned it and then passed it on to Gabrielle.

"Why don't you read it out loud, so we can all hear what it says," Cyrelle suggested, as she pulled the fourth chair out from the table and sat down.

Gabrielle looked at Acantha, seeking her permission, and the other woman nodded. Then the bard leaned forward and held the parchment where the lamplight would fall on it. Toris' characters had an angular slant to them, and were jammed together as if they had been written in haste. Still, they were fairly clear and easy to decipher.

"'My dearest Acantha,'" she read, "'With Amphipolis in danger, I feel--'"

"Okay, what does he mean by that? What danger?" Acantha broke in.

"Didn't he tell you?" Lyceus asked in surprise.

"No, I don't know anything!" she wailed. "How could he just run off like this without even telling me what's going on?"

Xena put a hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "I'm sure Toris was just trying to protect you," she said. "He didn't want you to worry -- especially since you were sick."

"I know, but--"

"I promise I will tell you everything in just a minute, but let's hear the rest of the message first."

Acantha nodded and then began to run her fingers back and forth over the woodgrain pattern of the tabletop.

Gabrielle cleared her throat. "Let's see. Where was I?" she said. "Oh, right here. 'With Amphipolis in danger, I feel I must do something to help, so I am taking Arsenios' head to Demetri as a warning. My sister does not agree, but I feel this is the best course of action. Go to Xena and ask her to explain everything. I will ride Arsenios' horse and travel as fast as possible. I hope to be back in 7 or 8 days, having delivered the message and scouted Demetri's army. Until then, you must stay well and be brave. Toris.'"

There was a moment of silence, and then Acantha said, "All right, start explaining. Who's Demetri?"

"He's a horrible, evil warlord," Cyrelle said excitedly, "and he's coming to attack Amphipolis!"

"How do you know that?" asked Acantha.

"Arsenios told us. He--"

"Cyrelle, let me do the explaining!" Xena exclaimed.

The girl shrugged. "Okay. Whatever," she said.

Xena turned to Acantha. "Arsenios was in my army, years ago," she said. "I hadn't seen him again until he showed up here the other night. Turns out he'd been sent to scout Amphipolis for Demetri, who's planning to conquer all the northern towns."

"So Arsenios was fighting in Demetri's army," Acantha said.

"Yes," returned Xena, "but Demetri only took command recently, and Arsenios didn't like him much."

"Which is why Arsenios decided to leave Demetri's army and warn us instead," Cyrelle put in. Apparently she had forgotten that Xena wanted to do the explaining.

"Right," Xena agreed, and Gabrielle wondered if she had forgotten, too.

"But why did he kill himself?" Acantha asked.

"Because he couldn't be a warrior anymore, and that made him really sad," Cyrelle said.

"He couldn't be a warrior anymore? You mean because Demetri wouldn't take him back?"

"That might be part of it," said Xena. "But Arsenios also seemed to think he was getting too old to fight, and he didn't know how to do anything else." She paused for a moment and looked around at the others. "It's hard to know why a person commits suicide," she added, "but Arsenios said in his note that he thought his dagger would bring him peace."

"His note? What note?" exclaimed Cyrelle.

"Yeah," agreed Lyceus, "you never told us he left a note!"

"Can we see it?" asked the girl.

"No, you can't, because I burned it," Xena said.

"Then how do we know there really was a note?" asked Acantha.

"There was one. I saw it," Gabrielle said.

"Yes, and so did Toris, unfortunately," Xena added.

"That was my fault," Gabrielle said quickly. "I shouldn't have--"

"What do you mean, 'unfortunately?'" Acantha asked, frowning at Xena.

The warrior took a deep breath and let it out again. "It was unfortunate because Arsenios suggested something that I thought made very little sense. He said we might be able to buy some time if we sent his head to Demetri as a warning."

"So Demetri would think we killed Arsenios, right?" Cyrelle asked eagerly. "And that we would do the same to the rest of his army! Wow! It sounds like a great plan to me," she went on. "Why wouldn't it work?"

"Because I just don't think it would have that much effect on Demetri, for one thing," Xena explained patiently.

"And didn't you say it might actually have the opposite effect on him?" suggested Gabrielle. "That Demetri would just get angry and come here first, without taking time to attack other towns along the way?"

"Exactly," Xena said. "Not to mention how dangerous it would be for whoever delivered the message."

"And that would be Toris," Acantha said.

Xena nodded.

"But he thought it was the right thing to do, to help Amphipolis," Acantha added.

"Yes," admitted Xena. "Like he said in his note, we didn't agree on the matter, but I thought he understood why I didn't want it done. He even said he'd get together with me this morning and discuss strategy." She sighed and shook her head.

There was silence for a moment, and then Lyceus leaned forward and asked in a hesitant tone, "But don't we need to send someone to find out about Demetri's army? How strong it is and how soon it will get here?"

"Yes, of course," Xena said. "And I was planning to send someone soon. But a scout can learn a lot about an army and still keep a safe distance. A messenger delivering a bloody head has to go right into the heart of the camp, and that is pretty risky."

"You think Toris will be killed, don't you?" asked Acantha. Her voice trembled slightly, and her face had taken on an ashen hue.

Gabrielle looked at Xena and saw the answer in the warrior's dark blue eyes.

"I hope not," Xena said softly.

"Acantha," Gabrielle said, reaching across the table to touch the other woman's hand, "let's not forget that Toris spent a lot of years developing his fighting skills while he was tracking down Cortese. Frankly, I think he's more than capable of taking care of himself."

"Gabrielle's right," Xena said quickly. "Toris is a good warrior, and with any luck, he'll be back in a few days, like he said, with a lot of useful information."

"Are you sure?" said Acantha. "Maybe you should go after him and tell him not to try to give the head to Demetri."

"Me? Go after him?" Xena said with a cynical laugh. "How? In my little cart?"

"I can go!" volunteered Cyrelle. "Let me go after him!"

"Absolutely not!" the warrior exclaimed. "You've never been more than a couple hours' ride outside of Amphipolis, and you don't even know how to use a sword yet. Besides which, Argo is much too old for that kind of journey."

"Then I'll borrow a horse from somebody else."

Xena shook her head. "In case you haven't noticed, not many people around here can afford to keep horses," she said, "and those who can, use them to pull their wagons and plows. Workhorses don't travel very fast, and Toris has several hours' head start, riding Arsenios' horse. I never actually saw the animal, but--"

"I saw it," Lyceus broke in. "It was kind of a short horse, but really sturdy and muscular-looking. I imagine it could cover a lot of ground pretty quickly."

"Yes," Xena said, looking first at Cyrelle and then at Acantha. "So there you have it."

Acantha sighed. "I guess we will just have to trust to the gods to bring him back safely," she said. Then, shifting to a tone of self-pity, she added, "But in the meantime, I don't know how I'm ever going to run that tavern all by myself."

"Well, Cyrene did it for many years all by herself," Gabrielle could not help saying.

Acantha glared at her. "Cyrene, Cyrene, Cyrene! You would think that woman was some kind of goddess. I can't tell you how tired I am of having her name thrown up to me!"

Gabrielle felt Xena's bare foot press down on top of her own as a warning.

"The tavern wasn't nearly as busy when my mother was running it," Xena said, "and she never really did it all alone. After we kids left home, she used to hire boys to chop the wood and clean out the stable and help with the serving."

"Oh. Now the truth comes out," Acantha said with a smirk.

"Anyway, you're not alone here," Gabrielle said in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone. "The children and I will keep right on helping out, just like we always do."

"I know how to do everything Toris does," Lyceus added. "I can come over early in the mornings and start the kitchen fire, and I can chop the wood and take care of the stable and-- Well, I can be a big help."

Acantha nodded. "Thank you," she said somewhat stiffly, and without looking at the boy.

"Cyrelle," Xena said, turning to her daughter, "why don't you get dressed right now and go help your aunt with breakfast. In fact," she went on quickly, before the girl could protest, "why don't you just plan on spending the nights over there until your uncle gets back, so Acantha doesn't have to be there alone."

"Oh, Mother," groaned Cyrelle, "do I have to?"

"Yes."

"But I already spend most of every day there, and now I have to spend the nights, too?"

"At night you'll be sleeping, not working," Xena said, "and you'll still have time off during the day -- just like before."

"I'd appreciate the company," Acantha said, addressing herself to Cyrelle. "I've never spent the night alone in that house -- or anyplace else, for that matter."

"Okay," the girl said reluctantly, and then looked at Xena. "We can still do the sword lessons, can't we?"

"Yes, of course. Now, go get dressed."

Cyrelle sighed and stood up, then headed for the other end of the room, scuffing her bare feet against the packed-earth floor.

"Sword lessons?" said Acantha. "What's she talking about?"

"I've decided to teach her to use a sword," Xena said.

"I thought you didn't want her to be a warrior."

"I don't, but we have a town to defend, and things don't always work out the way we want them to."

"That's for sure," Acantha commented acerbically. Then she stood up.

"I'll be over later to clean the rooms and help with lunch," Gabrielle said. "And Toris asked me if I would tell stories tonight, so I can still do that, unless you need me to serve instead."

"I can help with the serving," Lyceus volunteered. "Cyrelle did it last night, so it's my turn."

"Well, it sounds like everything is under control, at least for the moment," Xena said as she rose from the table. But the cheeriness in her voice had a false ring to it.

"Yes, I suppose so," Acantha agreed, somewhat dully. Then she turned and started toward the door.

Xena went along with her, limping because she was not using her crutch. "How's your stomach feeling today?" she asked her sister-in-law.

"All right, so far."

"Do you need any more herbs?"

"No, I still have some." She stopped at the door and turned to face Xena. "Why did he do it?" she demanded. "Why did he go off and leave me alone like this -- especially when he knows I've been sick?"

"Acantha, he's just trying to help Amphipolis," Xena said. "Last time the town was attacked, Toris was one of those who hid in the hills, and I guess he still feels guilty about that. This time, he wants to take action, and the truth is, if he succeeds in his mission, it really will be helpful to us."

"If he succeeds," Acantha repeated in a bitter tone. Then she looked up as Cyrelle hurried across the room, carrying a small bundle of her belongings. "Are you ready?" she asked the girl.

"Yeah," Cyrelle replied a bit breathlessly. "Lyceus, don't worry about the kitchen fire," she called back over her shoulder. "I can get it started."

"Okay. See you later," he replied.

CHAPTER 10

Acantha and Cyrelle went out the door, and Xena closed it behind them. Then she came slowly back over to the table. Gabrielle, still seated, reached out to take her lover's hand. It looked like the healer was about to say something, but then she glanced over at Lyceus and appeared to change her mind.

"I think I'll get dressed and go work in my hut awhile," Xena said. "But you two can go back to bed if you want to."

"Okay, maybe we'll do that," Gabrielle said, squeezing the other woman's hand gently before she released it.

Xena gave her a wan smile, then picked up her crutch and headed for the sleeping room.

Turning her attention to Lyceus, Gabrielle saw that he was sitting hunched forward, with his elbows on his knees, while he stared morosely at the floor. Getting up from her chair, the bard moved over to stand behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Are you worried about Toris?" she asked softly.

He nodded. Then, after a moment, he said, "I used to think I was luckier than Cyrelle because I not only had two mothers, but a father, as well. But if my father gets killed--"

"Toris is not going to get killed," Gabrielle said fiercely. "He's brave and he's smart and he has dealt with warlords plenty of times before. He can take care of himself."

Lyceus turned to look up at her. "Xena doesn't think so, does she? Xena thinks Toris will get killed."

Gabrielle swallowed hard. "I don't know what Xena thinks," she replied evenly. "I only know what I think. And I think that in a few days, we'll see your father come riding back into town all safe and sound, just like when he left."

"Do you really think that?"

"Yes, I really do," she said, smiling at him. Then she bent and kissed the top of his head. "Now, why don't you go back to bed for a little while?" she suggested.

He shook his head. "I don't think I can sleep," he said. "I'd feel better if I could be doing something, so I'll just go on over to the tavern and chop wood or something."

"All right," Gabrielle said. "I know you'll be a big help to Acantha."

"I'll try to be. I just wish she liked me better."

"Maybe she will, one of these days. People can change, you know. Maybe she'll stop being so jealous and then she'll see what a fine young man you're growing up to be -- strong and brave and good-looking, just like your father," she finished softly as she ran her fingers through the boy's wavy brown hair.

He grinned and stood up. "Look out, Mom," he said. "You're starting to get mushy, and you know I hate it when you do that."

"I know, and I'm sorry," she said, laughing. "It's a good thing I have you around to help me keep my mushiness under control. Otherwise, I might try to hug you or something." Then she reached out to pull him close, and felt his arms go around her shoulders -- hesitantly at first, but then holding her more tightly.

The embrace lasted for several long moments before Lyceus gently pulled away. "I have to get dressed," he mumbled, and headed for his cot.

She watched him go, and then, realizing he would want some privacy, headed for the sleeping room. Ducking behind the curtain, she stood waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. Xena sat on the bed with one leg drawn up while she laced her boot, but her movements were slow, as if her mind was occupied with things totally unrelated to boot lacing.

Gabrielle went over and sat down beside her. "What are you thinking?" she asked quietly.

Xena looked at her and then down at her boot. She quickly finished tying the leather thong and lowered her foot to the floor. Then, glancing at the curtain, she asked in a whisper, "Is Lyceus out there?"

"Yes. He's getting dressed to go to the tavern."

"We can talk when he's gone," Xena said.

"He already knows you think Toris is going to get killed."

"He's a smart kid," Xena muttered, "just like his mother. Maybe I should go talk to him."

"No," Gabrielle said, shaking her head. "He's all right for now."

Just then, they heard the boy call, "Well, I guess I'll be going."

Xena hopped up and hobbled to the doorway. Pushing aside the curtain, she said, "What are you going to do there? It's not even light yet."

"I don't know. Maybe I can help serve breakfast or something. All I know is I can't just sit around here doing nothing."

The warrior moved on into the other room, and although Gabrielle could hear the murmur of her voice and Lyceus', she could not make out what they were saying. With a sigh, she lay back on the bed, her feet still hanging off the edge, and stared up at the shadowy rafters.

What would happen if Toris didn't come back? Gabrielle knew that she herself would miss him deeply. Over the years, she had come to love him as the brother she had never had. But he was more than that to her -- he was also the father of her child.

She smiled a little, remembering a night not long after she and Xena had returned to Amphipolis. They were lying in bed -- she with her head on Xena's chest, and Xena's arms around her -- when suddenly the warrior started and grabbed Gabrielle's hand. "The baby's moving!" she exclaimed, carefully positioning the bard's hand. "Can you feel it?"

There was a long moment of silence while Gabrielle held her breath and pressed eager fingers against her lover's abdomen.

"There it is again! Just a little sort of flutter. Can you feel it?"

"No," Gabrielle said sadly after a short pause, "I can't feel anything."

"That's all right," Xena said softly. "It's too soon. I could barely feel it myself."

"Was this the first time you felt her move?"

"Yes. But don't worry. She'll be kicking like crazy in a couple more months, and then you'll feel it for sure."

"Thank you," the bard whispered as she raised her head up and kissed Xena's cheek. "Thanks for sharing all of this with me."

"I'm just glad I'm not going through it alone," Xena replied. Reaching up, she gently brushed the hair away from Gabrielle's face.

The bard smiled, even though she knew her lover could not see the smile in the dark. Then she laid her head once more on the soft warmth of the older woman's breast. Would this be a good time to tell Xena what she'd been thinking? She wasn't sure. Her heart began to pound with nervous anticipation as the seconds slowly stretched into minutes. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "Xena?"

"Hmm?"

"What if I wanted to have a baby, too?"

"Oh. Well, I suppose it could be arranged," came the bemused reply. "All you have to do is break your leg and then make a deal with Ares to heal it."

"I'm serious, Xena!" Gabrielle exclaimed, socking the older woman lightly on the arm and then propping herself up on her elbows. "And I don't want another half-god child," she added with a shudder. "I just want a normal, human child. With a mortal father."

"Ah," Xena said thoughtfully. "And did you have a particular mortal in mind to be the father?"

"Yeah, well, sort of. I mean, what I'd really like is if we could have a child that was part of both of us, and you could somehow be the father--"

Xena laughed. "Not much chance of that, I'm afraid," she said. "But it's a lovely thought."

"Uh-huh, it is, and so I thought the next best thing would be if Toris was the father -- you know, since he's your brother and all," she finished in a rush.

"Toris," Xena said flatly.

"Yeah. Do you think he would do it? Could you ask him for me?"

"Okay, let me understand this. You want me to ask my brother, Toris, if he would make love to my lover--"

"It wouldn't be making love, really," Gabrielle said quickly. "It would just be trying to conceive. I would never want to make love with anyone else but you, Xena. Surely you know that. But the problem is, I don't know any other way to get pregnant."

"I don't know any other way, either," Xena admitted. She reached out a hand to caress Gabrielle's cheek for a moment and then ran her fingers through the bard's short hair. "But why do you suddenly want a baby so much?"

"It's not sudden, really," Gabrielle said. "I've always wanted to have children. And when I had Hope, I tried so hard to be a good mother . . . and I failed so miserably." She stopped, feeling her throat tighten with emotion.

"Gabrielle, what happened with Hope was not your fault. You could never have been a mother to her. She wasn't even a real child. She was just -- evil." Xena shuddered slightly and then went on, "The whole thing was such a nightmare. I don't even want to talk about it." She put an arm around Gabrielle and tried to pull her into a hug, but the younger woman resisted.

"That's exactly my point, Xena," she said. "I didn't get the chance to be a real mother before, to a real, flesh-and-blood child. And now I'd like to have that chance."

Xena nodded. "You're right. You deserve it," she said softly. "But why right now? Wouldn't it be better to space our children out a little bit?"

"I thought about that, but I also thought they might play together better, and love each other more, if they were closer in age."

"Yes, possibly."

"And the other thing I was thinking is that if Toris is going to be the father, it would be best if he did it now, while he's still single. If he decides to get married later, I don't see how I could ask him to give me a baby after that."

"You're right. It could be a little awkward -- not that it isn't already," Xena said, and Gabrielle could hear the smile in her voice. "Of course," the warrior continued, "the idea of Toris' ever getting married is kind of a strange one -- at least to me -- but I suppose it could still happen."

"So you'll talk to him?"

"Yes, I'll talk to him."

"Thanks, Xena. I love you," Gabrielle said softly, and then leaned close to kiss her lover before snuggling down into the warrior's embrace.

* * * * *

The sound of a footstep brought the bard abruptly back to the present. Looking up, she saw Xena standing beside the bed, watching her.

"Were you asleep?" the warrior asked.

"No, just thinking," Gabrielle responded as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

The older woman nodded and sat down beside her, propping her crutch on the edge of the bed. "Anything you can share?" she asked.

"Actually, I was just remembering the night I first told you I wanted to have a baby."

Xena closed her eyes for a moment and bit her lower lip. Then she looked at Gabrielle. "I am so glad you wanted Toris to be the father," she said fervently. "Who would ever have guessed that Acantha would be barren, and Toris would never have another child?"

Gabrielle saw a tear slide down Xena's cheek, and she reached out to wrap her arms around the older woman. "You're talking about him as if he were already dead," she said.

Xena returned the hug and pressed her face against the top of Gabrielle's head. "I know, but I just have such a bad feeling about this whole thing," she murmured.

"Look at it this way," Gabrielle said. "Toris is smart, and he's going to have several days to think while he's riding to Demetri's camp. My guess is he'll realize that delivering Arsenios' head is too dangerous, and he'll decide not to do it."

"I certainly hope you're right," the warrior responded in a dull tone, "but you know how stubborn and hot-headed Toris can be sometimes."

For a few moments, Gabrielle said nothing, while she continued to hold her lover close. Then at last she asked, "What did you tell Lyceus?"

"A bunch of things I don't really believe myself," Xena said with a sigh. Then she pulled away and wiped her sleeve across her eyes. "I'm not sure if I helped the situation, or just made it worse."

"I know. That's kind of how I felt when I talked to him," Gabrielle said. "He's taking this all pretty hard."

"That's because he's so sensitive and caring," Xena said. "So unlike Cyrelle."

"I still think Cyrelle cares more than we know. She's just afraid to show it."

"Maybe," Xena said. Then she stood up and picked up her crutch. "I need a little time alone to think," she went on. "I'll be in my hut or maybe out in the courtyard. Why don't you try to go back to sleep?"

"I'll try, but I don't know how successful I'll be." Gabrielle took hold of Xena's free hand. "I'll fix us some breakfast later," she said.

"Okay, thanks," the warrior said and smiled. Then she headed into the other room.

Gabrielle sat without moving for a few moments before getting up and walking around to crawl under the covers on her side of the bed. There was probably no point in trying to sleep, but it was still too early to do much of anything else. She turned over on her side and closed her eyes, then let her mind wander where it would.

Almost immediately, her thoughts went back to Toris, and she remembered standing in the tavern kitchen, washing dishes, on the night after her little talk with Xena. Earlier, she had told stories, but now the crowd was gone, and she was hurrying to finish cleaning up. Toris came into the room, and without saying a word, picked up a linen towel and began to dry dishes. Gabrielle stole a sideways glance at him, but feeling suddenly shy, she waited for him to speak first.

The silence stretched on for a time, but finally Toris cleared his throat somewhat nervously and said, "Xena told me that you, uh, want to have a baby."

"Yeah. I know it's a strange thing to ask someone to do," Gabrielle said, "but it would really mean a lot to me if you could . . . help."

He nodded and peered critically at a plate he was drying. Then he set it down and said, "All right."

"You mean you're willing to do it?"

"Yes," he said without looking at her.

"Thank you, Toris. I really do appreciate this." She tried to catch his eye, but when she couldn't, she turned her attention to a pot that needed scrubbing.

"Gabrielle," he said after a moment, "you've been a big help here at the tavern, and I'm really not sure what I would have done without you."

She started to respond, but he gestured for silence and then hurried on. "You're a fine young woman -- strong, and a hard worker. And the fact is, I've come to like you quite a lot," he added. "Anyway, I was just thinking that if you wanted to do this whole thing a different way-- Well, I would be honored to have you as my wife."

She stared at him in surprise, wondering if Xena had somehow given him the wrong idea. But no, this was probably Toris' own notion of how things ought to happen. "You're very kind," she told him, "but Xena is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

He nodded. "I suspected as much," he admitted, "but I thought I'd ask, anyway. I know it's not unusual for two women to be intimate, or two men. But two women setting themselves up as a family, and raising children together -- I've just never heard of that being done."

"I guess Xena and I will have to be the first to do it, then," Gabrielle said with a smile.

"It figures," Toris said, smiling back. "If anyone is going to do anything out of the ordinary, it's likely to be Xena."

Gabrielle laughed. "You're right," she said. "And that's one of the reasons I love her so much."

"Well, I have to admit there are other qualities of Xena's that I find more endearing," he responded with a grin. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he asked, "So when shall we start on our little . . . project? Do you want to start tonight?"

"Tonight?" she said, surprised. But she couldn't think of a good reason not to, so she agreed.

Toris was always gentle with her, but it had been an awkward sort of business, just the same. They usually got together late at night, if they were not too tired after the tavern closed. Gabrielle was thankful there was an empty sleeping room between Toris' room and the one she shared with Xena. She knew her lover was lying awake, waiting for her to come to bed, and she could only imagine the thoughts that must have gone through the warrior's mind. But Xena had always welcomed her afterwards with open arms and warm kisses, and no matter how often Gabrielle begged her to make love, seemed happy to oblige.

It was almost three months before Gabrielle was certain she had conceived. The pregnancy went well, and shortly after the winter solstice, her son was born -- a fine, healthy baby with a hearty cry and a good appetite.

"I'd like to call him Lyceus," Gabrielle told Xena. "That is, if you and Toris approve."

"What's not to approve?" the warrior said as she brushed a tear from her eye. "And I'm sure Toris will feel the same. Thank you, Sweetheart. You couldn't have chosen a name that meant more to us."

The tavern business had continued to grow, meanwhile, and during the latter part of Gabrielle's pregnancy, Toris hired a young woman to help out with the cooking and serving. Her name was Acantha. She had grown up on a farm, then married a cobbler and moved to Amphipolis. Six months later, her husband succumbed to smallpox, and she was forced to support herself by doing whatever work she could find. A hard worker and an excellent cook, Acantha soon proved invaluable to the running of the tavern. And that's why it came as no great surprise to Xena and Gabrielle when Toris announced one evening that he had asked Acantha to marry him.

Lyceus was about two months old by then, and one night when Gabrielle and Xena were nursing their babies, the bard asked, "Xena, is there any way we could ever have a home of our own?"

"What are you talking about?" Xena said in surprise. "This is our home, and there's still plenty of room here, even with Acantha moving in."

"Yes, maybe that's true right now, but in a few years, these two babies will be too big to sleep in the same room with us, and what will happen when Toris and Acantha start having kids of their own?"

Xena shrugged. "There are bigger families than ours living in houses much smaller than this one," she said. "We're actually lucky to have so much space -- and privacy."

"I know," Gabrielle admitted. "It's just that-- Well, you know how people are talking. They've pretty much guessed that Toris is the father of my baby, and ever since Acantha found out, she's been--" She stopped speaking and lifted Lyceus to her shoulder.

"She's been what?" asked Xena. "Gabrielle, if Acantha is being mean to you, I'll be glad to beat her up for you. All you have to do is say the word," she added with a grin.

The bard smiled back, but only half-heartedly. She did not see the situation as light-heartedly as Xena apparently did. Sighing, she stood up and began to pace back and forth in the small room, patting the baby gently on the back. "It's not that Acantha is being mean, exactly -- although she's made a couple of remarks that might be taken that way. It's mostly that she's been kind of cold towards me, like she doesn't think I'm worth talking to anymore."

"She's probably just feeling a little jealous about Toris. Once they're married and they start having children of their own, she's bound to feel more mellow about you and Lyceus."

"Maybe. But Xena, wouldn't it be so much nicer if we could have our own little house somewhere -- just you and me and the children? And you could have a part of the house where you kept your herbs, and people came there to see you when they were sick? Don't you think it would be nice?"

"Yes, of course it would, but how could the two of us ever afford to buy a house? Have you thought about that part?"

"There's got to be a way. Maybe we could borrow the money."

"From who? Spiridon the moneylender? That's risky business, Gabrielle. If we couldn't pay him back--"

"Xena, sometimes you have to take a risk in order to get what you want. Didn't you teach me that?"

The warrior smiled and glanced down at Cyrelle, who had fallen asleep at her breast. "Yeah, I guess I did," she said.

It was funny how things occasionally worked out almost perfectly, Gabrielle mused now as she lay in bed, thinking back on that time. It was almost as if, every once in a great while, the gods actually smiled instead of frowning peevishly and throwing lightning bolts, as they were more wont to do. Getting the house had been like that -- an event that had proved almost magical in the ease with which it had taken place.

A few days after Gabrielle and Xena first talked about it, an old widow Xena was treating mentioned that she wanted to sell her home and move in with her daughter. The price she was asking was low, and although the house was small, it seemed perfectly adequate for a healer, a bard, and two babies. Moreover, the location was good -- close enough to the tavern to be convenient, yet far enough away to put a proper amount of space between Gabrielle and Acantha.

They pooled what money they had been able to save -- Xena from her healing work and Gabrielle from storytelling. Then Xena went to Spiridon, and offering her mother's jewelry as collateral, borrowed the rest of the needed sum. It had taken them four years to pay off the loan, along with the exorbitant interest, but they had done it, and they were proud of their efforts.

Gabrielle opened her eyes and then, after a moment, she sat up. The room was light now, and looking around, she smiled, thinking about how much she loved this house and this quiet life she and Xena shared. There was no doubt about it -- she would fight to her last breath to defend her home and the people she loved. She knew Xena felt the same way, and so did her brother. That was why he had gone to confront Demetri. "Be careful, Toris," she whispered. "Please come back safely." Then, slipping out of bed, she began getting dressed.

CHAPTER 11

Xena stepped through the doorway of Maphias' carpentry shop and paused to inhale the pungent odor of freshly-sawed wood. It was a scent she loved because it always reminded her of the happy hours she had spent as a child, playing in this very shop with her brothers and Maphias. She smiled, remembering how they had used the long, curly wood shavings to make chains and earrings, and scraps of boards to build small boats that they rigged with linen sails. Afterwards, they had launched their fleet on the watery expanse of the tavern horse trough, or had sometimes sent the boats down the Strymon itself, confident that such noble vessels would find great adventure when they reached the sea.

But pleasant though such memories were, she did not have time to indulge them right now. She was looking for Maphias. His shop appeared deserted, but the back door stood open, and through it she could hear the sound of voices and the rhythmical scraping of a plane across a board. Making her way in that direction, she passed through the clutter of tables, half-built cupboards, and piles of lumber. Her boots and crutch left soft impressions in the sawdust that littered the floor. Outside, in the shade of a wide wooden overhang, Maphias straddled a sawhorse while he planed the edge of a rough-looking plank. His son, Sandros, stood at the workbench, boring holes through a board.

Xena leaned on the doorpost and watched them for a few moments, then said, "Well, I'm glad to see you two are getting some work done."

Maphias looked up at her and grinned. "Yes, you've actually caught us in the act," he said. Then he laid aside the plane, dusted his hands off on his trousers, and stood up.

"Hi, Xena," Sandros said with a shy smile.

She nodded and smiled back at him. "I haven't seen you for a while, Sandros," she said. "How have you been?"

"Fine, thanks."

Maphias' oldest son was about twenty -- a soft-spoken young man of average height, with broad shoulders, dark hair, and a neatly-trimmed beard. Xena was about to congratulate him on his betrothal when Maphias spoke.

"Have you looked at Alala's leg?" he asked. Then a worried look came over his face, and he added, "She's doing all right, isn't she?"

"Oh, I haven't been there yet," Xena said quickly. "I came here first because I have a matter I need to bring to the town council, and I was hoping I could talk to you and your father about it."

"Well," said Maphias, sounding relieved, "as much as I hate to think of taking a break from work, the concerns of Amphipolis must come first." He winked at Xena and then went on, "Sandros will take care of business while I'm gone. Won't you, Son?"

"Do I have any choice?" Sandros asked with a grin.

"No, of course you don't," Maphias said, laughing. Then he turned to Xena. "I'll walk over to the house with you. It's too early for my father's nap, so I imagine he'll be available to talk."

The healer smiled and shook her head. "You're certainly in a good mood today," she said to Maphias, wondering how good his mood would be after hearing about Demetri's planned attack. She turned and started toward the door, but stopped when she saw several unstrung bows hanging on the back wall of the shop. Then she noticed a pile of arrows lying on a bench nearby, some of them lacking points or feathers. She picked one up and turned it to examine the straightness of its shaft. "What's going on here?" she asked. "Are you making bows and arrows now?"

"Sandros is," Maphias said.

Xena looked at the younger carpenter and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yeah, well, this is just a little experiment of mine," Sandros said, coming over to stand near Xena. "I wanted to see if I could make my own weapons."

"Are you an archer?" she asked, looking at him with new interest.

He shrugged. "I like to do a little hunting sometimes," he said.

"Sandros is an excellent archer, although he's too modest to say so," Maphias broke in. "Just last week, he shot a big stag up on Mt. Pangaeum. We've been smoking the meat. I can give you a piece if you want it."

"Well, I would never say no to an offer of smoked venison," Xena said with a smile. "Thank you." Then she turned to Sandros and asked, "Did you shoot the stag with one of the bows you made yourself?"

"Yes, I did, actually," he responded. "And I used my own arrows, too. But I have to admit I've had trouble learning to do the fletching." He bent down and picked an arrow out of a scrap heap under the bench. "Here's one of my first attempts," he said, grinning as he handed it to her.

She looked at the crooked rows of feathers and laughed. "Yes, well, I can see you've come a way since then," she said.

"Seth has been teaching me. He's the best in town, when it comes to making bows and arrows. And he knows how to shoot them, too."

Xena nodded thoughtfully and dropped the bad arrow back onto the refuse pile. "How many good archers would you say there are in Amphipolis?" she asked Sandros.

"Really good ones? Maybe ten or fifteen," he said.

"And not-so-good ones?"

"Well, I see a lot of guys at the archery range, practicing. But I'm not sure how many there are, exactly."

"Take a guess."

"Thirty? Maybe forty?" he said. "But some are just young boys, starting to learn, so they're not very good yet."

"How young are we talking?" Xena asked.

"Well, I've been teaching my little brothers. They're ten and twelve. I would say there aren't many boys younger than that."

She nodded, pressing her lips together as she considered this information. She would never consider using children that young in the defense effort, except perhaps as messengers or lookouts, but it was good to know there were more archers than she had thought there were in town. And at least two people could make bows and arrows.

"Can you use any other weapons?" she asked Sandros.

"Just the sling," he said, then glanced at Maphias. "Father tried to teach me sword-fighting, but I didn't really have much interest in learning," he went on. "I guess I just don't like to get that close to my opponent," he finished, and grinned.

"Sandros, you've grown up to be a very wise man," she said, laughing and patting him on the shoulder.

"Why all this sudden interest in weapons, Xena?" Maphias asked.

"There's really nothing sudden about it," she said casually. "I've always been interested in weapons -- in case you don't remember."

"Yes, but--"

"We'd better get going if we want to talk to Basil before his nap time," she said quickly. "Take good care of the shop, Sandros."

"I will. See you later," he responded.

Then she and Maphias went back through the shop and out onto the street.

"Did Alala sleep all right last night?" Xena asked.

"Yes, the opium really helped," Maphias said. "And the wound looked pretty good this morning -- at least as far as I could tell."

"I'm glad to hear that," Xena said, nodding.

They walked on in silence for a short time, and then Maphias cleared his throat and said, somewhat hesitantly, "You know, I've been thinking maybe I should get married again."

The healer looked at him in surprise, then said, "Are you sure? It's only been a year, Maphias."

"I know, and I doubt that I'll ever love anyone again as much as I loved Hesper. But if I could find a woman whose company I enjoy, and who could be a good mother to the children--" He stopped speaking and glanced over at Xena. "I just don't like the thought of growing old alone," he finished.

"Well, I'm sure there are a number of widows in this town who would be happy to have a good man like you," Xena said with a smile. "Or were you thinking you wanted some blushing young virgin?"

"No, not a virgin," he said, laughing. "I'm not really looking to have more children. A woman my age would be fine."

"Did you have someone in mind?"

"No. I've only just started to feel like looking around."

"Take your time, then," Xena said. "You don't want to rush into anything like marriage."

"I know," he said. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he went on. "I probably shouldn't tell you this because it sounds pretty silly now, but there was a time when we were young that I thought -- don't laugh," he admonished, although he himself was chuckling. "There was actually a time when I thought you were the one who would be my wife, and the mother of my children. But then Cortese came along . . ."

". . . and changed all our lives," she finished.

"Right. And nothing was quite the same after that. Do you ever think about how things might have been different, if Cortese hadn't come, and if Lyceus hadn't been killed?"

"Yes, I've thought about it," she said quietly. In fact, she had done more than think about it. The Fates had actually allowed her to experience a different sort of life. "And what I finally decided," she went on, "was that there was a reason things happened the way they did. We were meant to be the people we turned out to be."

"Are you saying that the gods ordained it, and we had no choice?"

"Well, I believe we always have choices, but I found out that I was meant to follow the way of the warrior. And I did that -- at least until I broke my leg."

"And what way was I supposed to follow, do you think?" Maphias asked.

"The way of the carpenter?" she suggested. "The way of the father? The way of the town council member?"

He laughed. "Okay, it sounds like I'm doing all the right things with my life," he said. "And what a relief it is to know that!" Then he hurried ahead a few steps to open the door of his house for Xena.

* * * * *