In the aftermath of LOCKED UP, TIED DOWN, Xena and
Gabrielle sail away from Shark Island Prison on troubled waters the two must
navigate as an inescapable element of their journey together.
By IseQween
May 2011
IseQween@aol.com
Sailors scurried across the deck, straining to stay ahead of the
strong gusts blowing everything about like toys. A few wondered at the lone woman among them who could’ve been a
rag doll – long dark hair whipping her face, loose sack cloth garment
alternately billowing and clinging to her body. Yet she moved as if one with
the wind, at the same time remaining steady on her feet and somehow securing
whatever she touched.
“Rain’s comin’!” A
grizzled deckhand pointed at the dark clouds swelling ominously, ripe for
bursting with mischief. When they did,
the torrents sent nearly everyone racing for shelter below.
“Wait!” the captain shouted, fighting for some semblance of
control. “The main sail! Lower the main sail!” His words blew back to him. He squinted through the sheets of water for
someone among the disappearing bodies who could hear. Just as he bent to tie off the wheel, a familiar squeaking sound
pierced the wind. He looked up to see
the main sail slowly retreating from the onslaught. A figure at its base worked the ropes as if reining in a horse –
just the right tension, just enough slack.
Some minutes later, the ship still lurched, but rode the waves
more steadily. The rain had lessened
somewhat and the sky lightened, revealing a wasteland, deserted except for the
captain and an apparition floating towards him through the gray.
“Think that’ll do it for now.”
“Aye.” The captain
secured the wheel. He stepped down from
the pilot’s station. “Baggio,” he said,
extending his hand. “`Preciate the
help.”
“No problem.”
“Mm.” Baggio scowled at
the empty deck. “Never sure what you’ll get on a prison ship. Crew or … passengers.” He studied the disheveled form in front of
him. “Wasn’t you on the trip to Shark
Island a few weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
“Not many come back.
Least, not this fast. What was
you in for?”
“Murder.”
“Yeah? They got the
wrong woman?”
“Right woman. Wrong
murder.”
Baggio frowned. Before
he could probe further, sailors began emerging to resume their duties. A young blond woman also came out and headed
towards him.
“There you are!” The
blonde grabbed the other woman’s arms.
“What happened to ‘Better get to safety?’ I thought you were coming too.”
“Sorry. ‘Safety’ wasn’t
lookin’ too good, unless I stayed up here.”
“Pffft. No lie
there.” Baggio bowed slightly. “I’m Cap’n Baggio. If it wasn’t for your …. Um ….”
“She’s my advocate,” the dark-haired woman supplied dryly. “And guardian, so to speak. The reason I got out so fast. Gabrielle.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
Baggio grinned. “And lucky
you’re better at your job than my men.
Her too. Could use someone with
her experience. Um, you know, if she
needs a job.” He winced. “Um … I mean sailor-type work. Kinda tough, bein’ a parolee, findin’ somethin’
… legit.”
Gabrielle bit her lip.
“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.
Xena does indeed have many skills.”
She rolled her tongue in her cheek.
“I already have plans for them.”
“Xena? The Xena?”
“Uh huh. And one of my
plans is for her to go below and get dry.”
Gabrielle’s tone did not encourage further conversation. “Uh, yeah.
Right.” Baggio inspected his own
soggy clothes. “Prob’ly a good idea for
me too.” He nodded to the women and
walked off.
“Coming?”
“I’ll be down in a minute.”
Gabrielle studied her partner.
“This hasn’t exactly been a vacation.
You’re supposed to be recuperating from one situation, not adding to
it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Xena
squeezed her “guardian’s” shoulder.
“Fresh air’ll do me good.”
Sighing, Gabrielle gave Xena a hug. “See you soon.” She
glanced over her shoulder to see the warrior leaning against a rail, hands and
face lifted, catching the rain.
≈≈≈
Gabrielle tidied their portion of the large area in the hold
used to confine female convicts headed for Shark Island Prison. This return trip bore a couple of older
women who’d made it to the end of their sentences. Gabrielle had been in the
process of making a privacy curtain from discarded sailcloth when the weather
turned bad a few hours after leaving.
She’d gone up top to check on Xena, who’d yet to make an appearance
below. The warrior warned of impending
danger and suggested they take cover. Gabrielle
had done so. Her churning stomach
delayed her from finding out why her partner hadn’t followed.
In truth, Xena seemed to prefer the chaos on deck to attending
matters Gabrielle deemed more important – bathing, dressing wounds, eating the
tasteless but solid food on board.
Sensitive chats. Their departure
from Shark Island had been fairly abrupt following Commandant Thalassa’s
pardon. The exhausted warrior had slept
through most of the first day. The next
morning a ship was spotted arriving earlier than scheduled. The four women free to go had few
possessions and no inclination to prevent leaving their hellhole as quickly as
possible.
Certainly Gabrielle understood her partner’s desire to enjoy the
limitless expanse of ocean, the smell of nature, absence of hanging nooses or
mean dogs of both the two- and four-legged kind. She could empathize with Xena’s carrying vestiges of her recent
ordeal on her skin, in her mind. What
worried her was what seemed to haunt Xena even before allowing herself to be
tried and sentenced for a crime committed over 10 years ago. Since coming back from the Land of the Dead
to find Gabrielle hadn’t perished after all in Dahak’s pit. Despite the wondrous joy of reuniting, the
lighthearted moments during a couple of escapades with Autolycus and Joxer.
“I had a vision of you.
In the future. That’s how I knew
you were alive.” Maybe Xena still
didn’t feel it was real? Didn’t believe
she deserved it? Feared undoing it
somehow? Gabrielle recalled how Xena
would often gaze at her, eyes filling with such gratitude and relief. How other times she’d look away when a flash
of something else clouded the blue eyes.
Terror? Sadness? Anger?
Resignation? Whatever, it was a
strange mixture of helplessness and determination Gabrielle couldn’t remember
seeing before.
“Knock knock. May I come
in?”
Gabrielle paused in fixing the privacy curtain. “Humph.
If you come in the right way.”
“Mm.” Xena bowed her
head and put her hands together as if in prayer. “May I come in, O Mistress Healer Bard Commandant?”
Gabrielle snickered.
“Not bad. Your supplication
could use improvement. But I meant
….” She pointed to another as yet
uncovered side. “When I’m done, the
entrance will be over there.”
“Ah.” Xena strolled to
the area indicated. “Want some
help? With the other … wall?”
“What I want is for you to get out of that wet sack.”
“Ooo. And dance naked
for ya?” Xena pulled open the top of
her prison-issue garb and peered inside.
“Hmm. Dirty dancing?”
“You wish.” Gabrielle
indicated a washbowl and thin towel.
“When you’ve cleaned up, you can put on those clothes I got from one of
the sailors.”
Xena sauntered “inside.”
She picked up a tunic and breeches lying atop a crate set between two
cots. She sized them up as a decent
fit. She waggled a sandaled foot. “No boots?”
Gabrielle rolled her eyes.
“After we dock in Literia. I
left your things at the tavern.”
“What about you?” Xena
raised a brow at the ex-prison healer’s damp, soiled outfit. “I have eyes and a
nose too, ya know.”
“I brought a change in my bag.”
Gabrielle let out a deep breath.
“Wasn’t sure how long I’d be staying.”
She held Xena’s eyes. “Or if I’d
leave.”
Xena chose not to ask the question they both knew the answer
to. Especially since it might mean
revisiting why either would’ve been on Shark Island in the first place. “Well, then,” she responded, bending down to
gather her hem, “I’ll get to it.” When
she stood in all her smudged, battered glory, she added, “Seeing as how you went to all that trouble
to break me out.”
≈≈≈
One Leg Petros made a last inspection of the corridor. The storm had been a stroke of luck. Veteran sailors who usually worked the day
shifts had gotten an unexpected reprieve, given their hours spent battening
down the ship. Baggio wanted them fresh
for possible bad weather tomorrow. The
perfect cover for plotting that evening.
“All clear.”
About seven men – almost half the crew – waited in the bunkroom
to hear Petros’ update. They’d long ago
tired of duty on a prison ship. Many
former convicts themselves, they accepted their lot as the dregs of society
with little chance for much better than “promotion” to guards on Shark
Island. To authorities and the public
they were practically invisible. Too
shiftless to trust with hardened male criminals, but perfect for transporting
women. Certainly not a breed anyone
would suspect of greater ambition or the brains to make lemonade of lard.
Unlike his brethren, Petros considered himself mired in an
existence beneath his potential. The
son of a prosperous merchant, he’d once captained the vessel his father sent
across oceans to transport exotic goods prized by the wealthy. He’d lost his leg and all his belongings
after a terrible accident far from home.
Once sufficiently recovered, he’d drifted into work where he could at
least be out to sea away from reminders of the world that had crashed down
around him. Not a day passed when he
didn’t dream of somehow re-establishing some semblance of status. And finally the time had come.
“I figure things won’t be back to normal for a couple days. About the same time as our first target’ll
be passing by. Most of those not with
us aren’t itching for a fight. I expect
they’ll leave us to do as we want.
Those with other ideas ….”
Petros shrugged. “Accidents
happen.”
“The cap’n and his first mates?”
“Soon’s we sight the target.
Squid, your guys still up for handling that?”
“Aye.”
“Good. Carry on as
usual. I’ll give the signal when we
need to meet again.”
≈≈≈
“Huh.” Gabrielle
examined wounds her partner acquired during her stint on Shark Island. “These tiny marks on your neck and
shoulders. Such a strange pattern. Like … teeth?”
“Um …. Love bites?”
“Love bites?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Xena snorted. “They seemed to
enjoy it enough.”
“Xena, what are you talking about?”
The warrior sighed. “In
that pit. I was hogtied. Little visitors came a callin’.”
“Little ….” Gabrielle
gasped. “Rats?!”
“Eh, I let `em know they weren’t welcome. Got a few of `em better’n they got me.”
“And you let these go this long? Xena, they could be infected.
Why didn’t you say something –.”
“S’okay. Had one of the inmates put something on them. While you were off chatting with Thalassa?”
“You were supposed to be resting.”
“I did. First things
first was all.”
“I see.” Gabrielle
finished applying salve. She handed
Xena the borrowed shirt and sat on the opposite cot. “Something else you meant to hide from me.”
“Aw, come on. What
difference does it make who –.”
“You know what I’m talking about.” Gabrielle pursed her lips at Xena’s silence. “This guilt thing. Letting yourself be locked up.
Why now? What happened to
focusing on atoning with all the good you can do?”
“I was wrong, okay?”
Xena slipped the shirt on.
“Mucking about in mud, having critters snack on me didn’t bring the
peace I’d hoped.” She stood to pull on
her breeches. “Lesson learned. Can we move on?”
“That’s not all.”
Gabrielle lifted her chin. “For
somebody so happy to get me back, you didn’t fight very hard against losing me
again.”
Xena winced. She sat
back down on the cot, pants bunched around her ankles. What could she say? Reveal the part of the vision where Romans
nailed them to crosses? That being in
prison was better and deserved anyway?
And, most importantly, might keep Gabrielle from being punished along
with her?
“It’s not just about you anymore, Xena.” Gabrielle began putting away her healing supplies. “The irons they put on you bit into my wrists too. I felt even more helpless, because – unlike you – it was against my will. Condemned to a life apart from the person who decided it was somehow less punishment for me than struggling with her through her guilt.” Gabrielle paused to ensure she had her partner’s full attention. “Or, worse yet, didn’t even consider it wasn’t just about her.”
Xena closed her eyes against the expression on Gabrielle’s
face. It hurt as much as seeing
Gabrielle on that cross. Except one was real and the other an evil
witch’s dream. One, something she could
change. The other ….
Gabrielle came over to sit beside the deflated warrior. “I’m real, Xena. Not just some voice in your head. Some ideal you picture and want to protect in its own little place. I wish I could get you to accept that. To accept me as a full partner in whatever you do.”
“Gabrielle, I do ….”
Xena grasped Gabrielle’s hand, kissed it and held it in her lap. She wanted so badly to declare being
together balanced the weight of her past, that she wouldn’t sacrifice herself
and risk Gabrielle’s happiness if it could mean saving Gabrielle’s life. Instead she promised what she believed
possible to fulfill. “I’ll always love
you. Do my best to respect your wishes
and treat you right.” She squeezed
Gabrielle’s hand. “Be patient,
okay? Losing you again? Haven’t quite gotten over that I guess.”
“You may never.”
Gabrielle chuckled. “Not sure I
want you to entirely.” She gazed at
their cloth walls. “We were lucky
during our earlier travels. We can’t
take each other’s lives for granted anymore, Xena. Your quest is foremost to me.
I accept what goes along with that.
I treasure our moments together.
I don’t want them clouded by your fear of losing me.”
Once again Xena knew what she should say. Once again, she danced around it. “I’ll try too. Treasure what we have. And right now, that means being able to
….” She kissed Gabrielle’s
forehead. “How’s that?”
“Good start.” Gabrielle
smirked. “Might carry more weight
without your feet swimming in your britches.”
≈≈≈
The sun tried to ease its way through clouds that refused to
disperse from the day before. Gabrielle
faced its faint glow from the railing near the quarterdeck. Xena sat on a crate near the stern,
apparently not to enjoy the lull in bad weather, so much as prepare for
more.
“Feelin’ better, eh?”
Gabrielle turned toward the voice. “Me?”
“Aye. Looked a little
green yesterday.”
“Ah.” Gabrielle smiled
at the captain. “Sea trips and I don’t
always get along.”
Baggio signaled for one of his mates to take the helm and
stepped down to join Gabrielle. “Your …
charge … over there looks like she’s born to it.”
“Mm.” Gabrielle wryly
studied her soulmate, surrounded by the pile of rope she’d so far
untangled. “You could say she was born
to many things.”
“She really Xena? The
Warrior Princess?”
Gabrielle cocked her head.
“Why?”
“Um ….” The captain
scratched his beard. He’d thought his
question simple enough, the young woman friendly enough. Something in her eyes …. “Didn’t mean offense.”
“Offense?”
“Well, uh, you know, her reputation and all. Commandin’ armies. A pirate. Ships bigger’n
this. Hear tell, had gold drippin’ from
`er hair. Finest things money couldn’t
buy.” Baggio snickered. “Not that she needed money. Took what she wanted. Now …. ”
He glanced at the quiet woman in hand-me-downs. “Quite a fall. Might not want folks knowin’.”
“Image isn’t Xena’s biggest worry.” Gabrielle snorted. “Not
in that way. It is for other
people. I’m always curious who they
think she is.”
“Well, I can only go on what I’ve heard.”
Gabrielle sat on a step to the quarterdeck. “And what’s that?”
Baggio checked the inquisitive green eyes. They encouraged him to get comfortable
against a post. “Not that different
from me. Got in trouble as a
youngun. Didn’t like takin’ guff off
nobody. Followin’ others’ rules. Made mistakes along the way. In the end, had somethin’ of `er own. Did the best with it she could.”
“Sounds like you admire that.”
“Not easy bein’ in command.
Makin’ a way for others.” Baggio
surveyed the vessel he rented out for services beneath most owners. “Might not be much, but this’s mine. I do what I have to keepin’ her afloat.
Within limits, of course.”
“Mm. Unlike Xena?”
“Said she was in for murder.
That true?”
“She’s had more than her share of kills, yes. In this case, her victim didn’t actually
die. Xena discovered Thalassa running
Shark Island.” Gabrielle glanced at her
soulmate. “Had you heard she’d
reformed? Dedicated herself to making
up for her … ‘mistakes?’”
“Yup. Could tell right
off she’s leadership material. The way
she took charge during the storm?”
Baggio nodded to himself.
“Always lookin’ for ways to improve.
Problem is, not much profit in do-gooding.” He snorted. “`Specially
if it lands you in jail anyway. Nothin’
but a burlap sack to show for it.”
“She’s not in it for the profit. She wouldn’t have been locked up, if she hadn’t allowed it. Part of trying to atone for one of many
times she didn’t do good.”
“Well, like I said before, I could use somebody like her. Not too soft for the likes of this crew or
its cargo. But not the sort I’d have to
watch my back with either.” Baggio
studied the dark-haired woman a moment.
“You’ve got pull with `er, right?”
“Um, I guess you could say that.”
“Put in a word for me?
Let `er know she’s got choices.
Beyond jail or bein’ a deck hand.”
Baggio smirked. “Unless your
‘other plans’ for her top that?”
“My plans?” Gabrielle
chewed her lip. “It’s hers I’m more
concerned about. Not so sure right now
how they fit with mine.”
≈≈≈
Petros noticed how the others kept their distance from the
dark-haired woman. Oh, she’d
acknowledged them. Lent a hand without
being asked. Didn’t act high and mighty
or anything, just because she was neither crew nor prisoner. But – ex-con or not – she was definitely in
a class all her own. Like him.
“Morning.”
The woman glanced up, fingers continuing to work on knots. “Morning.”
“Name’s Petros. Or One
Leg. Either’s fine with me.” He cleared his throat. “I hear you’re Xena.”
“Or Warrior Princess.
Either’s fine with me.”
Petros found the woman’s dry response encouraging. He sat on a nearby crate. “Not many volunteers for that. Don’t have the patience.”
“Needs doing.” She
shrugged. “Might as well be me.”
Petros gathered in some of the rope she’d untangled and began
coiling it around a large spool. “I
know a little about patience. Comes
with having goals.”
“Mm. Or staving off
boredom.”
“Heh. Yeah, there’s that
too. Don’t imagine boredom’s a problem
for you?”
“Not usually.” She
tossed him more rope. “A little
something for your … goals.”
Petros laughed. He
hadn’t expected humor from the taciturn woman.
“We’re not so different, you know.”
“That so.”
“I’ve been around the world.
Captained one of my family’s merchant ships. Almost crossed paths once with yours.”
“Lucky for you we didn’t.”
Petros felt a chill.
“Uh, yeah. You were quite the
scourge of the high seas.”
Xena looked up from her work.
“You got a point to this? Or
just passing time?” The corner of her
mouth quirked. “Like me.”
“Um ….” Petros tried to
read the blue eyes. “Maybe a little of
both?”
“I’m nearly done. If you
have another goal in mind, better spit it out.”
“I … um ….” Petros took
a deep breath. “Woman of your stature
…. I know what it’s like having
something. Losing it. Making do until the right opportunity. I figure you probably got more in mind than
… this.”
“And what might that be?”
“I … can’t be too specific.
Not yet.” Petros glanced
around. “Let’s just say it could suit
your interests. Your … background. A lot more payoff than untangling snarls.”
Xena carefully smoothed out the section of rope she’d unknotted,
as if it were a gold chain. “Like I
said, I’m a ‘do what’s needed’ kinda gal.
At the moment, it’s this. Not
because I ‘lost’ what I had. I gave it
up.” She stood and handed Petros the
rope. “Appreciate your help. Couple other tasks suit my background. Seem needing volunteers. If you wanna follow my lead, be my guest.”
Petros watched the woman walk toward the young blonde relaxing
near the helm. When he’d first learned
Xena might be on board, he’d thought it an unexpected bonus. Someone with the experience and desire his plan
needed. Ruthless. Fearless.
Ambitious. He hadn’t believed
the rumors she’d changed. Her sentence
to Shark Island proved it. But nothing
since.
Is that why she’d been freed so fast? They’d truly broken her?
Convinced her to settle for the lowly existence she once crushed beneath
her boot? If so, did that make her more
friend or foe? Either way, one thing
hadn’t changed. She was still in a
class by herself. With any luck she’d
be no worse than the rope he’d wrapped conveniently in its place and out of the
way. Otherwise, an unexpected snarl
that could trip him up.
Gabrielle inspected their dining arrangements. She’d suggested they have their afternoon
meal on deck, given the decent weather.
Two crates served as seats, a third as their table. It featured a colorful cloth, atop which
rested plates of dried meat and steamed greens.
“What do you think?”
“Food and good company?
A fresh breeze? I’m in.”
“Excellent.” Gabrielle
assumed her seat. “I invited Selia and
Grinelle. They spend so much time
below. Supposedly occupied mending and
washing the sailors’ clothes. Too
bad. Nothing so restorative as the sun
and fresh air.” Gabrielle took in a
deep breath. “Especially for those of
us more used to land.” She snuck a peek
at her friend. “So, how’s your day
going?”
Xena sampled the food.
“This is the highlight so far.”
“I notice you had company.”
“You know me – always a magnet for chitchat.” Xena raised a brow. “Like you.”
“Riiiight.” Gabrielle
ate a few bites. “The captain wanted to
assure me you needn’t worry about your career path. You know, as an ex-con?”
“A benefit of many skills.
No shortage of offers.”
“Your guy too?”
“Mmhm. An ‘opportunity’
I might be interested in.”
“I suppose it didn’t involve selling souvenirs from Shark
Island.”
“Souvenirs maybe.
Possibly from other ships.”
Gabrielle’s head jerked up.
“Pirating?!”
“He wasn’t specific. I
didn’t ask.” Xena glanced wryly around
the deck. “Too occupied contemplating
other fun activities.”
“Hmmm. I wonder if
Baggio suspects. Could explain his
interest in getting you on his side.
You know, for your … ‘leadership’ qualities.”
“Peachy.” Xena rested
her chin on her hand. Considering what
she’d just survived – including duking it out with inmates and prison guards
alike – she’d expected the week or so
voyage from Shark Island to be a picnic in comparison. Once again it appeared she’d be caught
between troublemakers and those who prized order.
“Xena?”
“Yeah?”
“The captain seems a decent sort.” Gabrielle sighed. “It’s
just …. Any chance you won’t get
sucked in? I mean, if you warn him or
something?”
Xena cocked her head.
“Why him? The others see a
kindred spirit in me too.”
Gabrielle frowned. “What
are you saying?”
“Might be better for him
if I went along. Keep things from
getting bloodier than they have to be.”
“Gods.” Gabrielle shook
her head. “I guess ‘neutral’ doesn’t
apply to you, does it?”
“We go up in the crow’s nest?
Watch any action from there?”
Xena snorted. “Maybe I
could. What about you?”
Gabrielle thought back to her arrival on Shark Island. “Should’ve seen me posing as a good little
healer. I did pretty well at
first.” Until learning where they’d
confined Xena. At which point she’d
taken a broom to the guards and nearly gotten hung. “Okay. Might not be so
easy for me either.”
“Actually, I did better than I thought.” Xena recalled her initial success at fitting
into prison life. Watching them hang a
prisoner. Resisting inmates’ attempts
to recruit her into their rebellions.
Letting guards bully her. “Too
bad they lifted a whip to a young woman who tried to befriend me.” Things after that hadn’t gone so well, and
she’d ended up in that pit. “Must be
something about fresh-faced little blondes.
Seem to be my Achilles heel.”
“We play it by ear? See
what develops?”
“You won’t get bored?”
Xena snorted. “I’ve got deck
chores lined up. What’ll you be doing?”
Gabrielle rolled her tongue in her cheek. “Sunning?
Writing? Watching you
work?” She scowled at her
soulmate. “Been awhile, but I haven’t
forgotten how to do that either.” She
narrowed her eyes. “If I know
the plan. We’re way past my learning
what you’re up to after the fact.
Right?”
“Absolutely.” Xena
smirked. “You’ll know as soon as I do.”
“Xeeena.”
“I go with the flow. Not
my fault I don’t know where until I’m there.”
“Fine.” Gabrielle
smirked. “Then don’t be surprised if
….” She pivoted and started away.
“Gabrielllle. If what.”
“I sweep in to mop you up.”
≈≈≈
Though merely a dark speck against the horizon, it attracted
several eyes. Produced an undercurrent
beneath the casual observations.
“Think it’s that merchant ship?
Seems about time for it.”
“Suppose.” Baggio
shifted his gaze from the dark spec to Petros.
“Plannin’ on rowin’ over for a new boot?”
“Eh, just curious.”
Petros examined his foot. “Could
use a new boot though. Seeing as how this one does the work of two.” He glanced over to the women relaxing near
the stern. “Bet that little one wouldn’t
mind shopping.” He snorted. “Especially for Xena.”
“Xena? What for? Clothes?”
Baggio appraised the larger woman.
“Doesn’t seem that bothered by what she’s wearin’.”
“That’s a fact. No
mistaking her for any old body. Even in
that fool Milum’s britches.”
“Yeah, well, she’s pretty much Gabrielle’s ‘old body.’ For now
anyway.” Baggio raised a shaggy
brow. “Folks with other ideas gotta get
through her first.”
“Other ideas?” Petros
bent to adjust his wooden leg. “Not
getting your drift.”
Baggio smirked. He’d hit
a nerve all right. He shrugged. “Maybe gettin’ `er to talk more. About her warlord days’n such.” He snorted.
“Like she’d wanna drink to old times with this lot.”
Petros straightened. “I
wouldn’t be so sure about ….” He caught
himself, tamping down the surge of resentment he always felt at being included
among that “lot.” Reminding himself
Baggio would get his comeuppance soon enough.
“I mean, she’s had her run with rougher types. Who’s to say she doesn’t miss it?”
The captain studied Xena again.
Picturing her old habits.
Wondering how hard they’d be to break.
Petros’ mouth quirked at the other man’s expression, thinking to
himself, “Put that in your pipe and smoke it.”
“Eh, who knows.” Baggio
spat on his sleeve and used it to wipe something off the wheel. “Gossip either way. Better you worry more about those cranks
over there. Could use oil.” He watched the other man limp away before
setting his sight once more on the mystery in front of him – not the ship headed
their way, but the dark woman who might miss the kind of trouble it could mean.
≈≈≈
“Xena?” Gabrielle
observed the deckhands leaning against the rail, squinting out to sea. She got up for a closer view. “Looks like a ship headed this way.”
“Mm.”
“You’d think they’d never seen one before. They seem mighty excited.”
Xena continued her precise stitching of the rent in a sail. “You’ve plucked many a daisy in your
time.” She smirked. “Hasn’t stopped you from going ga-ga over
the next patch.”
Gabrielle rolled her eyes.
“I check for bees first. Before
I … ga-ga … my way over. What if it’s
pirates?”
“Too far to tell.”
“Yeah? Well, Baggio’s
staring out like a storm’s coming.
Speaking of which ….” Gabrielle
edged back to where Xena sat, as she watched Petros approach.
“Morning, ladies. Ship
in the distance.” Petros smiled at
Gabrielle. “Ever shopped at sea?”
“A merchant vessel? You
can tell from here?”
“One’s due to pass about now.
A regular run of sorts. If so,
they’ll come alongside at our signal.”
“Ah.” Gabrielle finally
smiled back. “We could use a few things. I usually like browsing and haggling. Doing it on water isn’t high on my list, but
I’m game.”
“And you, Xena?” The
corner of Petros’ mouth twitched. “I
imagine you’ve experienced that before?”
Xena used her teeth to cut the thread. “Yup.” She knotted the
end of her stitches. “The browsing
part. Not so much the haggling. Lucked up on a lot of freebies.”
Petros leaned in. “Miss
it? Not having to worry about enough
coins?”
“No. She doesn’t.” Gabrielle cocked her head at the warrior for
confirmation.
Xena held up her handiwork for inspection. “That oughtta hold well enough. Mind dragging it over there, where it’s
clear?” she asked Gabrielle. “Get one
of the guys to help you roll it up.”
“Xena ….” Gabrielle
hesitated, pretty sure she was being dismissed. And that she didn’t like it.
“I’ve got a couple more
to do. It’ll make the job go
quicker.” Xena offered her best “trust
me” look. “Please?”
Gabrielle muttered under her breath. She scowled at Petros before dragging the sail off. “Watch out for loose ends,” she threw over
her shoulder, now scowling at her soulmate.
“Wouldn’t want you messing up all your hard work.”
“I don’t think your …
guardian … approves of me.”
“Mm. Probably more about
why you’re here. Doubt it’s to help
with mending.”
Petros shrugged.
“Shopping, like I said. Get your
views on it.” He checked to ensure no
eavesdroppers. “You know – your kind?”
Xena reached for another sail.
“My kind. Like when I simply
took what I wanted?” She smirked at
Petros’ surprise. “Thought we’d
established I’m a ‘get to the point’ kinda gal.”
“Um, yes. Indeed.” He lowered himself to the crate Gabrielle
had been sitting on. “That ship. Could be the opportunity I mentioned. Quite a few others ready and willing. Not your caliber of course. Or mine.
You could name your price. If
you’re interested.”
“No haggling?”
“Well … we’d discuss it, of course. I’m sure you’d – .”
“Nah, another type of haggling.
I should know.” Xena cut her
eyes over to Gabrielle. “She’s the
best. Losing to her I can live
with. Anybody else? My way or the highway.” Her mouth quirked. “That’s what you wanted, right?
My … way?”
Petros rested his wooden leg on a coil of rope, grimacing as if
in discomfort. He was, but more from the
sense he’d already lost control of his grand scheme. Afraid what price he’d pay if this woman joined him. Or if she didn’t.
“Ship’s still a ways off.
No need to rush. I like to see
what we’ve got first. The cargo. Crew.
Passengers. Arms. If the risk is worth the price.”
“What’re you ….” Petros
scratched the knee of his bum leg. His
brain careened like a dinghy on ocean swells.
“You saying you’re … in?”
“I’m saying I’ll be the one to decide.”
Petros gritted his teeth.
For a “get to the point kinda gal,” this one sure …. “You’re speaking in
riddles. Not following your drift.”
“S’okay. All you gotta
follow is my orders.” Xena patted the
man’s itchy kneecap. “Get your men
ready as planned. If I’m in, I
lead. Nobody moves a muscle unless I
say so. If I choose to stick with my
darning….”
“Yes? What then?”
“Same thing.” Xena
squeezed the kneecap, sneering at Petros’ wince. “Means risking otherwise won’t be worth the price.”
Petros sat slack jawed.
He would’ve searched for clues on the tall woman’s face, except she’d
lowered her head, once again focused on needle and thread. The only thing he’d learned in the last few
minutes was she was less like him than he’d assumed. And far more dangerous.
“You ask a lot.”
“You’re wrong. Not …
asking … anything.”
“You expect us to sit on our hands. Wait until the last moment.
No idea if you’re in?”
“Oh, you’ll know.” Xena
raised hooded eyes. “Trust me.”
≈≈≈
To the casual observer, One Leg and the tall woman might’ve been
shooting the breeze. Maybe exchanging
differing opinions on sail mending.
Baggio’s experience studying weather -- and people – suggested
otherwise. For one thing, he took in
the whole picture, signs others deemed irrelevant. Like the young blonde not included in the other parties’
conversation, but keeping a watchful eye on them while she worked. From her expression, Baggio suspected she
did not approve of that particular association.
When Petros finally hobbled off, the captain moved in for his
own forecast. “Mighty pop’lar today.”
“Think it’s my prowess with a needle?”
Baggio snorted. “Doubt
their vision’s that good.” He cut his
eyes at sailors hovering near the rail, pretending they were looking at the
approaching ship rather than at Xena.
“More likely wonderin’ about your chat with One Leg.”
“And you?” Xena glanced
up with a wry smile. “Here for
something different?”
“Depends. Anything of
interest to me?” Baggio watched
Gabrielle approach. “Or her?”
“What’s that?” Gabrielle
narrowed her eyes, glancing between the captain and the warrior. “Did I miss something … else?”
“Not on my end. Baggio
may have some thoughts. On my previous
conversation.” Xena raised a brow. “On your possible thoughts about
it.” She snickered. “You being my … guardian … and all.”
Gabrielle smiled at Baggio before folding her arms and scowling
at the ex-con. “Good somebody
here remembered that.”
“Look,” Xena said, putting aside her work with a resigned sigh,
“there’s not much to tell. Petros
mentioned that ship. Was curious about
my … shopping … preferences.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Whether I’d be a
suitable … guide … so to speak.”
“Xeena. What kind of
guide?”
“Not your kind, I’d wager.
Right, Xena?”
“True, she does favor browsing.
Haggling.”
“Enough with the cryptic talk!
What’s Petros up to? More
important, what’re you up to?”
“Besides sitting here?
Minding my own business?” Xena
surveyed the deck, not surprised at being the center of furtive attention. “Everybody else minding it too? According to them, ‘up to’ any and
everything. Or maybe nothing at all.”
Baggio growled his frustration.
“Come on, Xena. Which is
it? I need to know.”
“I didn’t agree to his proposal. Didn’t reject it either.”
Gabrielle dropped down on the crate next to Xena. “Surely you’re not considering - .”
“I’ll tell you same as I told him. I need to see what we’ve got.”
Xena studied the distant ship a moment.
“Can’t say for sure yet.”
“Then I don’t hail it.
Change course if it heads this way.
No sense makin’ a problem - .”
“Already got one.
That’ll make it bigger. ”
Baggio stiffened.
“Thought you didn’t agree to One Leg’s - .”
“Didn’t.” Xena loosened
her shoulders. “Everybody’s waiting. Figuring they’ve still got choices – to buy,
to take or neither. Try avoiding that
ship, could have a fight on your hands.
How many would back you?”
Baggio mentally reviewed his crew. He could count on three.
He suspected six open to promises of “easy” money. The others were as likely to decide based on
which way the wind seemed to blow.
Whatever, he was captain. He’d
be damned if he’d relinquish control to Petros’ sorry lot. He jutted out his chin.
“Numbers ain’t the issue.
You are. From what I hear, a
force all by yourself. Could go either
way.”
“Not any more. She’s a
force for good now.”
“Yeah? So what’m I
s’posed to do? Twiddle my thumbs? Wait like everybody else?”
“Brief the guys you trust.”
Xena resumed her task. “Tell them
if I’m in, I’ll take command. Nobody
makes a move unless I say so.” She
looked pointedly at Gabrielle and Baggio.
“No exceptions.”
“But ….” Baggio gritted
teeth. “You said if you’re
in. How’m I s’posed to know -- .”
“Easy.” Xena rolled her
tongue in her cheek. “Otherwise you’ll
find me on this crate. Darning.”
The hours passed uneventfully, though the atmosphere resembled
the calm before a storm. Petros had
observed with suspicion Xena’s chat with the captain. Seeing a flag hoisted to summon the mystery ship reassured him
somewhat. Heartening him even more, a
message from their potential leader directed his men to hide weapons on their
persons and within easy reach.
Baggio continued to question the wisdom of ordering the flag
raised. But as the other ship came
close enough to confirm it indeed the expected merchant vessel, Xena suddenly
appeared at his side. She whispered
those loyal to him should secretly arm and station themselves near the boarding
plank.
Except for a brief trip to the hold, Xena remained up top,
apparently still focused on routine maintenance -- mending, checking the
rigging, oiling dry spots. By the time
the other ship pulled along side, a formidable figure positioned prominently
near its gangplank had attracted everyone’s attention.
“Ahoy, there. Saw your
flag. Interested in doing
business?” The big man bemusedly
regarded the frozen clusters of sailors across from him. “Or just lonely?”
Petros scanned the deck in vain for Xena. He noted Baggio waiting silently near the
helm. “Business!” He checked again for opposition. Emboldened further by detecting none, he
hobbled forward. “We’re interested in …
shopping. See what you’ve got on
board.”
“Same here.” The man
smirked at Petros’ frown. “You’re the
prison ship, right? For Shark Island?”
“Uh, yes. What – .”
“Could be you’re carrying ladies of interest. You know – interested in earning a few
dinars? Help `em get on their feet
before they land?” The man
snickered. “So to speak?”
“Ah.” Petros grinned at
this stroke of luck. “A mutual
exchange? Your crew …browse … who we
have?” He turned to wink at his
co-conspirators. “We can arrange that.”
“Good. Agrennon, at your
service. Wanna see some of our
merchandise first? Display a sampling
of your … ladies? Make sure it’s worth
everybody’s while?”
“Hmm.” Petros rubbed his
jaw. “No, no need for us. As for the ladies …. That requires more …
delicacy. They’re free … um, of their
sentences. Accustomed to their
quarters. A little privacy. Probably best making any … arrangements …
there. I believe it quicker, less
hassle simply boarding each other’s ships.”
Agrennon smiled at the men beside him. “May add to our enjoyment as well.” He signaled for lowering his gangplank.
Petros hesitated, realizing Baggio’s loyalists had stationed
themselves by their plank pulleys.
“Problem, Captain?”
Agrennon cocked his head at Petros.
“Got that right.”
All heads turned toward the commanding voice. It belonged to a tall figure emerging from
below, resplendent in black pants, vest and blouse – sleeves billowing like her
long dark hair.
“He’s not who you should be talking to. I am.”
Agrennon chuckled.
“Even better. You in charge of
the … ladies?”
“You could say that.”
Agrennon watched the woman saunter over to a crate and leap on
top. “I’m to deal with you on that
matter? Rather than the captain?”
“On all matters.”
“Come again?”
“The ladies. The
men. The ship.”
Agrennon’s amusement faded a bit at realization no one in front
of him looked amused. That they stared
at her as if she indeed controlled every muscle in their bodies. “You’re a powerful specimen, for sure.” He leered appreciatively at a young blonde
who’d come up beside the brunette.
“Gotta admit, had my doubts about the quality of the … passengers. If they look like you two, not surprising if
ya got these blokes wrapped around your -- .”
“Name’s Xena.”
“Xena?! The Warrior
Princess?” Agrennon squinted in her
direction. “B-but …. I’d heard you retired.”
“You know what they say
about the sea.” She shrugged. “Call of it gets me every time.”
Agrennon shook his head.
“Who would’ve thought …. Our
paths almost crossed a few times. I
remember this one ….” He caught
himself, remembering reminiscing wasn’t particularly wise at the moment. “Um, this one market you captured. I think it was in --.”
“I know who you are, Agrennon.
I recognized your colors. From
those times our paths nearly crossed.”
Agrennon stiffened, losing any pretence of benign chitchat. “Fated finally to collide. Me finally catching up on some of what I
missed.” He snapped his fingers. Armed men appeared, the ones nearest the
railing with arrows pointed at the prison ship.
Petros’ eyes bulged.
“Y-you’re not merchants?”
Agrennon guffawed.
“Bright lot ya got there, Xena.
Quite a come down from your heyday.
You teach `em the difference between gutting a man and fish?”
Xena examined her fingernails.
“Didn’t have to.” She pushed
back her vest to reveal the silver disk at her waist. “They know the difference that counts.”
“Strange in itself.”
Agrennon relaxed against the rail.
“Creaky old prison ship. Crew
not much better. That really best you
could pick?”
“It picked me.”
“Pfft. This lot? Ambitions for pirating? Figured you’d take `em up a notch?”
Xena let out an exasperated sigh, as if tired by the prolonged
conversation. She hopped down from the
crate and strolled toward the other ship.
“Picked me up from Shark Island.”
“Heh. Recruitin` more
lowlifes?”
“Serving a life sentence.”
Xena casually brushed hair from her face and adjusted her vest before
adding matter-of-factly, “For murdering somebody a lot better than you.” She took a few steps closer and crossed her
arms. “Guards harder than you. Gangs tougher. Dogs with more bite. The
rats in a pit I survived.
Hogtied.” She nodded to Baggio
and Petros. Their men produced weapons,
suddenly appearing perfectly capable of gutting more than fish. “You think to hold me any easier, get on it
with. Otherwise, your curiosity about
my career path? Get over it. Like Petros said, talk business.”
No one spoke, but could almost hear the myriad questions,
motivations and fears swirling silently in the air around one word.
Agrennon finally voiced what was on everyone’s mind. “What ‘business,’ do you have in mind? If I choose to go along. What’ve you got to offer?” Agrennon snickered. “Besides her,” he said, indicating
Gabrielle. “What could you
want? A few knickknacks?”
“Same thing as you. This
ship.”
Agrennon’s expression was of genuine surprise. “This … piece of crap? When I’ve got --.”
“That fine merchant vessel?”
Xena snickered. “What? Yours sink?
You take it as a loaner? Or just
take it.”
“What do you care? It’s
mine now. Everything, everyone.” Agrennon smoothed his handsome jacket. “It’s good enough for now.”
Xena sauntered over to lean against the side facing the other
ship. “Built more for looks and
cargo. A good decoy maybe. Not so good for pursuit. Or escape.
This … ‘piece of crap,’” she said, stroking the rail, “could outrun you
any day. More … versatile. Can hold and secure whatever – whoever – you
take. Just what you were shopping for,
hmmm?” She glanced at Petros. “And here these men thought they had the
only list.”
“Seriously? You’d fight
over that ship?”
“Doesn’t matter. I would.”
Agrennon curiously regarded the grizzled sailor who’d pushed to
the front. “And you would be?”
“The captain.”
“The captain? I
thought --.”
“He was?” Xena nodded in
Petros’ direction. “He does seek that
position.” She snorted. “On your boat.”
“Mine?! What the -- .”
“It’s why we hailed you.
I’m in command. But this is
Baggio’s ship.”
Agrennon gaped at his prospective opponents as if they’d all
lost their minds. “Don’t know what game
you’re playin’, but -- .”
“Oh, it’s no game.” Xena
lifted her chin. “Like I said, it’s why
they have me.”
Agrennon threw up his hands.
“Are you in the business again or what?
A pirate for hire now?”
“I’m weighing my options.
We all are. Petros there used to
be a maritime merchant. Could reclaim
his heritage with your boat. Or, his
guys could use it for pirating. Maybe
join up with you. Assuming you’d have
them.”
“Pfft. As
deckhands?” Agrennon rubbed his
chin. “Suppose I could use – .”
“No! We’re not trading one bottom for another,” Petros
shouted. He pointed at the pirate
leader. “Not for somebody no better
than Shark Islanders.”
“Yeah? I take it you
favor somebody worse?”
Sharp intakes of breaths on
the prison ship followed Agrennon’s sneered question. His men readied their swords, like everyone else staring at the
dangerous “somebody worse.”
“Appreciate the compliment.”
Xena directed cold eyes at the pirate captain. “But I’m just one woman.
You saying there’s not one man to test how bad?”
Agrennon gritted his teeth. He couldn’t believe his luck when the prison ship hailed him. A fortuitous solution to the problem Xena correctly surmised. All they had to do was get the prison crew on board as unsuspecting customers, ambush them and claim a second vessel more suitable for his real business. He knew Lady Luck could be two-faced, but never dreamed she’d turn on him like this. Or appear in the guise of someone supposedly more legend now than the dark-haired barrier popping up between him and his plans. Good thing he knew enough not to play the fool at this surprising turnaround.
“Yeah, there’s one man.” Agrennon beckoned a guard to hand him a sword. He slashed it through the air a few times. “Might not have your reputation. But, then, I’m not a ‘has been’.” He sneered. “Like you.”
“I have heard that a lot lately. Folks thinking I’ve gotten ‘soft.’ Maybe a test for us both?”
Xena moved to the center of the ship.
“Whoever wins gets both ships.
Anybody here got a problem with that?” she asked the men around her.
“Aye.” Baggio’s first
mate put a cautionary hand on his captain’s arm. “Why take that chance?
Everything riding on two criminals.
What’s to stop her from siding with him, once we let him on board? Worse they could do now is shoot a few of
us. We can deal with One Leg’s traitors
if we have to. I vote we leave it at
that.”
“Vote?!” Petros glared
at the mate. “My men outnumber
yours. We have bigger goals than being
stuck here with you. Agrennon’s ship
being a step up. Let the two
fight. What matters which wins? There’ll be a fight anyway. Except more of us getting killed.”
“Quiet!” Xena raised her
chakram. “This’ll take care of any
archers,” she warned, pointing the disk at the merchant ship. “Or anybody with thoughts of mutiny on this
side. I ask again – anybody got a
problem with that?”
Baggio glanced at Gabrielle.
He sensed apprehension, but noted her eyes fixed not on Xena, but on
Agrennon. “No … Commander.” He raised his chin and swept his gaze
resolutely over his crew. “Not where I
stand.”
Brow raised, Xena waited for any objections. Other than a few mutters, she heard
none. “Well, then. Agrennon?
You in?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Smirking at his men, Agrennon made a show of loosening his
shoulders. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Xena addressed Baggio’s crew.
“Remember, this is my show. Whatever happens, stay put unless I say
so. You too, Gabrielle.”
“But, Xena, I don’t trust – .”
“I know. G’won with the
others.” The warrior winked at her
obviously displeased advocate. “All
that sitting around, I could use the workout.”
She directed everyone to move back almost to the helm and casually
surveyed the cleared area before ordering, “Lower the gangplank.”
Agrennon moved to descend his already lowered plank. When the opposite one was in position, he
suddenly stood aside. Those on the
prison ship watched in horror as Agrennon’s guards filed quickly toward them,
then stop a few feet from the target they meant to take out first. She held her position without the least
change of expression.
“Now!”
At Agrennon’s command, the guards started forward, pausing when
Xena whipped out and threw her chakram, their heads swiveling to follow its
path. They watched it slice the tips off
arrows pointed at the prison ship, then veer in their direction. They ducked, too late realizing its
destination instead the ties to a furled sail that dropped to envelope those in
the back who couldn’t move fast enough.
A whoosh later, small sacks of flour flew in to explode in others’
faces. Those in front rushed forward,
just as the chakram hit a large spool, somehow triggering the release of rope
from an opposite spool that tripped and sent them sliding across the freshly
oiled deck right into a firmly wielded piece of wood.
In the astonished blinks of prison crew’s eyes, an imminent
threat had transformed into an almost comedic scene of harmless rag dolls
littering the floor and a huge white cocoon shifting every which way with
hapless critters trapped inside.
“Raise the plank!
Now!”
Xena honed in on Agrennon’s intent to flee. “Clean this up,” she ordered the prison
crew. “Got another mess I need to
fix.” While the others eagerly waded
into their task, she leapt from one prone enemy to another toward the writhing
mass of encased bodies, using it to launch herself onto the other ship.
“There’s still a half dozen men over there. Some of you come with --.”
“No.” Gabrielle blocked
Baggio from following Xena. “If she
needs help, it’ll be from me.” She
smirked. “She’s used to me pulling
rank.” She went to dislodge the chakram
from a crate, at the same time observing her partner take out the men nearest
the merchant vessel’s plank before fending off an attack from their
comrades. Now a lone figure faced the
one woman legendary for making the difference between victory and defeat. Gabrielle raised her fist, as certain
Agrennon would surrender as she was that his conqueror had yet to face a much tougher
foe – a certain sidekick who would not be denied a long overdue sensitive chat.
≈≈≈
“I could get used to this.”
Gabrielle had already made a quick tour of the hold filled with
merchandise – some displayed, most still packed away – as well as discovered a
few salesmen confined to a storage room.
She squirmed deeper into one of the cushioned high-backed chairs in the
captain’s quarters.
“Mmhm,” Xena agreed, long legs crossed at the ankles in front of
her own comfy seat. “Too bad Agrennon
and his crew did. Bet their butts don’t
feel as good now.”
Baggio, Petros and their trusted cohorts chuckled, picturing the
pirates in the bowels of the prison ship.
“So. What now?” Baggio threw a look at Petros. “Still got mutineers to deal with.”
“You mean Gabrielle?”
Xena smirked. “Yeah, she does
seem okay jumping ship.” She
shrugged. “Where she goes, I go. No doubt we’ll discuss possible
insubordination later.” She gave her
partner a knowing look. “Mine, anyway.”
“I meant Petros. How’m I
s’posed to trust him? `Specially if you’re
gone.”
“Way I see it, they’re near mutineers. They’ve got
choices, same as you.”
“Pfft. Same ones as before?” Petros massaged the knee of his missing leg. “Baggio gets to keep his ship. We fight for it or do his bidding. You take this one. Nobody’s stupid enough to fight you for it. Some choice.”
“I think I speak for Gabrielle when I say all we want is a
peaceful ride home.” Xena turned to
Baggio. “I’d guess there’s a nice
bounty for Agrennon’s gang. Maybe you
can bring `em in. Use the money to fix
up your ship. Decide on another line of
business. Perhaps a choice for Petros
as well.”
“Me?”
“Your legacy commanding floating markets? Talk about goals higher than transporting criminals?” Xena pointed her chin at the freed merchants huddled in a corner, their expressions veering between cautious optimism and fear they’d traded one precarious situation for another. “You could start with them. Ready made vendors. For a fair offer, of course.”
Petros frowned in confusion before his eyes widened in hopeful
disbelief. “You’re saying …. Y-you’d
let me have this ship?”
“Oh, we’ll make inquiries about who really owns it, once we
dock. Who knows? Could be they’d take on a partner. Until then, you can pilot to your heart’s
content. Long as my friend there gets
to browse to hers.” Xena’s eyes
darkened. “And I don’t have to haggle
about … shopping … for other ships. Afterwards
…. You feel more suited to pirating, don’t complain you had no choice.”
≈≈≈
For once Petros did not resent following in Baggio’s wake. Nor did the nimbler prison ship remind him
of his own physical limitations. He
rubbed the steering wheel as he habitually did the wood of his substitute
leg. Except with pride and anticipation
he’d also feared lost. The craftsmanship
of the large vessel in his hands matched that of his father’s finest. Even his wannabe pirate crew performed their
work satisfactorily, motivated by this step above where they’d been.
“Petros seems a changed man.”
Gabrielle glanced at the warrior propped against the starboard
rail. “You think?”
Xena studied the young blonde luxuriating in a hammock swaying
on deck. “Certainly as revitalized as
you.” She snorted. “And as smug.”
“Mmmm. Not my fault I
attract kindness. The men insisted. So I could enjoy the sun more comfortably.”
“Uh huh.” Xena noted the
many eyes enjoying Gabrielle’s enjoyment.
“Downright selfless.”
“Selia and Grinelle don’t know what they’re missing. Pity they stayed with Baggio.”
“Eh, confined so long, they stuck with what they’re more used
to. Plus, there’s that chance of a
bounty to look forward to. Not
everyone sees much in gazing at clouds.”
“True. Speaking of
which ….” Gabrielle carefully rolled to
her side. “Such a splendid outfit. Whose imagination inspired that?”
Xena rubbed her jaw. She
could sense an ambush even in the most serene surroundings. Especially in the innocent blink of a
certain party waiting patiently for just the right moment to launch a sensitive
chat.
“Selia’s mostly. Grinelle
added the finishing touches.”
Gabrielle sucked in her cheeks.
“Just got it in their heads to spiff you up? No creativity on your part?”
Xena resisted the urge to dump Gabrielle from the hammock and
curl up in it herself. Instead, she
sauntered to a large crate behind her companion’s feet. Spotted a pile of sacks and decided to make
them into a cushion. Positioned a few
to hang over the crate as something soft for her back. Ladled drinking water into mugs, handing one
to Gabrielle before resignedly dropping down on the sacks, pulling up her knees
and resting her head on them.
“Comfy enough?”
“Couple more years maybe.
I’ll make do for now.”
Gabrielle sat up and balanced herself cross-legged. “Xena?”
“Yeah?”
“This doesn’t have to be torture.”
“From whose perspective?”
“Think of it as a … briefing?
Just the highlights. A little
how, when. Some why?”
Xena raised her head and leaned back. “I needed better clothes.
Your fine efforts notwithstanding.
I asked Selia for something suiting a warrior. Impressive, as I expected trouble.”
“Befitting a leader?”
“They heard of my reputation.
Saw me in action on Shark Island.”
Xena shrugged. “Who else on this
ship would it be?”
“You have a point there.
And the when?”
“Wasn’t sure. Thought it
might be the Petros vs. Baggio thing.
Until Agrennon got close enough to recognize his colors.”
“But the booby traps.
There wasn’t time – .”
“Started planning `em before.
Figured they’d come in handy – internal strife or otherwise.” Xena chuckled. “Had to keep all that maintenance work interesting somehow. Be so good at it nobody came behind me. I made the final adjustments the night
before Agrennon pulled up.”
“Why the secrecy? Afraid
I’d argue against taking over a pirate ship?
When any normal person would’ve let it go its merry way?”
“Normal?” Xena
smirked. “You really wanna go there?”
“Grrr.”
“Like I said, I wasn’t sure.
That’s when I’m at my most creative.
As you know,” Xena stated, imitating Gabrielle’s innocent eye bat.
Gabrielle puckered her lips.
“I patented that look. Not sure
you’ve earned the rights to it yet.”
“Hey, you’re the one convinced I’ve – .”
“Fine. We’ll revisit
that. In a couple more years
maybe?” Gabrielle trotted out her smug
eye bat. “At the moment I’ll settle for
the evil Warrior Princess. Hearing
about her … creative … side.”
“Fine by me.” Xena
feigned a yawn, accompanied by her version of a smug eye bat. “Leaves me free
from worry. Well, about anything
besides agitating my … advocate.” She
smiled ruefully. “More.”
“There’s wiggle room left.”
Gabrielle resumed lying on her side.
“Continue.”
Xena sighed. “Not much
more to tell. My seamstresses must be
fortunetellers. They came up with the
perfect outfit.” She snorted. “For a pirate queen. I figured, why waste it, sending Agrennon on
his way? Besides, he presented a
fortuitous solution. One stone for two
birds – Petros and Baggio.” She
snickered. “Plus a certain shopping
fanatic.”
“And you?”
“Me?”
“One would think you had enough fighting on Shark Island. Apparently not.”
“Mm. This was
different. Cleaner. Agrennon deserves what he got.” Xena’s focus drifted to the ship now some
distance in front. “I earned being
among those inmates. Racked up a lot
more points than the entire place. It
felt wrong fighting them. Even those
guards. Their job part of our
punishment. Or Thalassa. Commandant over all of it. Her authority the consequence of my own
decree.” She faced Gabrielle. “Where was the right in that, to fight any
of them.”
“But you did. To help
that woman who came to your aid.”
“Yeah, a ‘real hero.’
The guard captain made me call myself that. In mockery.”
“Xena, you can’t – .”
“I wasn’t gonna make it as a model prisoner, Gabrielle. No matter how hard I tried. I gave my word, but if Thalassa hadn’t
thrown me in that pit ….”
“Surely you’re not excusing that. Even you can’t think you deserved –.”
“Truth is, she did me a favor.”
Xena put up a hand before Gabrielle could object. “All my talk about justice, I couldn’t take
it. Watching the abuse. Accepting it. Life with no other purpose than moving the same crap around every
day, sun up to sun down. The
claustrophobia. Never-ending
suppression of every instinct to end it all in a blaze of glory.”
“Ah. Thalassa removed
you from all that. Took the pain away
by leaving you helpless to do anything about?”
Xena nodded. “Relief I
didn’t dream I’d ever want.” She
shuddered, eyes closing against the vision of them both tied to crosses,
nothing either of them could do. “And
pray I never will again.”
“Xena?” Gabrielle waited
for the warrior’s attention. “I was
there too.”
Xena’s heart skipped.
“W-what? There?”
“Shark Island.”
Gabrielle slid out of the hammock to sit next to Xena. “I didn’t come to free you. I wasn’t sure what I’d do. That ‘creativity’ bug of yours must be
infectious,” she said, bumping her head against the warrior’s shoulder. “I helped you free yourself. You miraculously escaped that pit to save
me. You needn’t fear ‘relief,’ long as
I’m in the picture.”
Xena swallowed. “Can’t
forget that, huh?” She pushed the
vision aside, replacing it with the memory of an encounter years ago outside
Poteidaia. “Since the day we met. I recall seeking relief then too. Figured I’d achieve it burying who I
was. A feisty village girl popped in to
convince me otherwise. Evidently for
good.”
“Got that right.”
Gabrielle shifted to get more comfortable. “Can I assume you’ve gotten past this last bout of … relief? You know – shackles, prisons, pits?”
“Yessss. Seems I’m
already linked to a constant reminder tougher than Haephestes’ metal.”
“Excellent. So you’d be
amenable to satisfying pleasanter desires?”
Xena raised a curious brow.
“Such as?”
“Oh, this ship is full of amenities. I mean, beyond the spacious, well-appointed accommodations. Have you checked out some of the stuff the
merchants unpacked? You’d be surprised
– .”
“You’re dying to get back in that hammock?”
Gabrielle reared back, eyes batting, “Who, me?”
“G’won.” Xena got to her
feet, pulling Gabrielle up with her.
“As it happens, there is a ‘pleasanter desire’ I’d like to satisfy.”
“Oh?” Gabrielle said as Xena boosted her into the hammock. “Such as?”
Xena simply threw a smile over her shoulder on her way to the
stern. Once there, she took a deep
breath. Appreciating more than ever the
fresh air. Blue as far as she could
see. The sounds of movement with
purpose. The feel of going
somewhere. Of anticipating the unknown,
accepting the known, grateful for the reality she still had Gabrielle as a
bridge between them.
Whatever the future held, she now knew she would no longer seek
relief in a justice with walls, helpless to do more than rot in the stench of
her past. She would fight for the
chance to help others. To save
Gabrielle, who – once again – had saved her.
Liberated her from yet another Tartarus. Free to die if required, bound by honor and love to live as long
as necessary.