myth-alliances part 2

Hercules and Joxer entered the Amazon village, pulling a flatbed wagon heaped with goods. Salmoneus, round face gleaming with sweat, was perched on the driver's box yelling, ''For the love of Zeus, guys! Be careful with this stuff! It's genuine Samian ware!''

Hercules muttered under his breath, ''Oh yeah? Then why's it say 'Made in Korea'' on the bottom?''

Joxer snickered, but at the demi-god's icy glare, closed his mouth and kept pulling. Assembled Amazons watched but made no move to help.

Sweating, heaving and grunting, the two men managed to maneuver the awkward cart to one side, out of the way of traffic. Salmoneus jumped down as soon as the wagon stopped moving; the merchant prince was resplendent in a long puce robe trimmed with fake ivory beads.

''So,'' Salmoneus said expansively, rubbing his pudgy hands together, ''where's the warrior princess? How about Gabrielle?'' When the Amazons merely stared at the men expressionlessly, he continued, ''No welcome wagon? No virgins scattering rose petals in our wake? Not even a frimpin' trumpet salute, fer Zeus' sake?''

His voice trailed off when Hercules put a hand on the merchant's arm and squeezed gently. Well, mostly gently... Salmoneus eventually got the use of his hand back. ''Take it easy, Salmoneus,'' Hercules said under his breath, ''We're here on sufferance. I've got to go to Artemis' temple and get a dispensation from my sister so we can attend the wedding.''

Hercules shrugged. ''Then the Amazons will kill us, probably. Men are forbidden in their nation.''

The demi-god nodded. ''Even me. You and Joxer stay put; I'll run to the temple and be right back.''

As Hercules trotted out of sight, the Amazons began to encircle the two men, their eyes glittering. Joxer, still doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, wheezed, ''Hey! You girls never seen a mighty warrior before?''

Salmoneus shushed him frantically, but as usual, Joxer refused to take the hint. Straightening and trying desperately to thrust out his non-existent chest without dislocating his shoulders, the warrior wanna-be said a little breathlessly, ''One at a time, ladies, one at a time. Joxer the Mighty has plenty to go around.''

The first sight that greeted Gabrielle on leaving Oscarina's hut was a ludicrous one.

Joxer, pants looped around his ankles and certain anatomical parts flapping in the breeze (which ones? You're better off not knowing), was hanging upside down from the tall sentry box that perched on long poles and towered above the huts on the ground.

''Heeeeeeeellllpppp!,'' he wailed. His face was starting to turn a lovely shade of garnet and his brown eyes seemed more crossed than ever.

As Gabrielle stared, mouth open, at the spectacle, Hercules came jogging around the corner. Spying Joxer, he skidded to a stop beside Gabrielle and stared, too.

Moments ticked by as Joxer writhed around like a Babylonian belly dancer. Every few minutes, he whinnied for help; Amazons watched from below, some munching on snacks. A brisk business in bets was being made; currently the odds were twenty-to-one on the wanna-be breaking his neck when the rope gave out.

Finally, Hercules shook his head. ''Gods!,'' he growled. ''I can't take you two anywhere. Salmoneus, what did he do now?''

Salmoneus hurried over. ''He, um... well, I guess you could say he insulted some of these, uh, fine Amazon ladies. It was nothing serious, really.''

Gabrielle replied, ''It's a good thing it wasn't serious. Otherwise, he wouldn't have anything left to flap.''

Both men instinctively crossed their legs and groaned. Hercules recovered first from UMTSP (Universal Male Testicular Sympathy-Pain) and said, ''Gabrielle, can you get them to cut him down? Gently?''

''I mean, how much will you pay to get him back intact? I could just have them lower him down one piece at a time.''

For a minute, Hercules thought she was serious... then he started laughing. ''Frankly, Your Majesty,'' he said, putting a companionable arm around the woman's shoulders, ''I wouldn't give you a clipped dinar for him. But... it is the right thing to do.''

Gabrielle giggled. ''You're right. It's just that... well, half of me feels sorry for him, and the other half hopes he hangs there all day. For a no-talent, he's sure got an ego the size of Mount Etna.''

Hercules shook an admonishing finger. ''Ah, ah, ah,'' he chanted. ''You really don't want to leave him there. It'll give all the little girls nightmares for life.''

''Okay, okay. Hey, Ephiny!,'' Gabrielle called to the blonde Regent. ''How's about you round up some of the bigger girls and get that eyesore down from the sentry post? Preferably in one piece.''

The Regent grinned wickedly. ''Of course not, my Queen. I'll attend to it at once.''

As a troop of muscular Amazons began lowering the wailing Joxer to the ground, Gabrielle gave the demi-god a hug. ''I'm glad you're here, Hercules. Did Artemis...?''

Hercules showed her four silver amulets clutched in his fist. Each disk was shaped like the horned moon. ''Yep. I owe her one, though. Here, Salmoneus, put this around your neck and don't take it off for any reason.''

Salmoneus pulled the amulet over his head. ''Ooooh... I could probably get fifty dinars apiece for these back in Athens. You don't suppose Artemis would consider manufacturing in bulk?''

Meanwhile, a crimson-faced Joxer had managed to tug up his breeches and refasten his belt. Ambling over to the trio, he smiled weakly. ''So, I guess you saw how well I handled that situation, huh?,'' he asked. ''I had 'em right where I wanted 'em...''

Gabrielle bit her lip to keep from laughing in his foolishly earnest face. Hercules swiftly threw Artemis' amulet over Joxer's head. ''Don't take it off, Joxer,'' the demi-god said firmly. ''If you do, you're fair game.''

''Okay, big guy,'' Joxer said, hitching at his belt. ''Oooooh... look how pretty it sparkles...''

Salmoneus heaved a sigh. ''Well, a merchant prince's work is never done. I got all the dinnerware, Gabrielle, and Falafel will be here in two days with his catering crew. The wedding's in two days, isn't it?''

Gabrielle nodded. ''Mmmm-hmmm. Thanks for the lovely wedding present, Salmoneus. It was so nice of you to donate all that lovely Samian ware.''

Salmoneus looked uncomfortable. ''Um, yeah, right, Gabrielle,'' he replied, running a finger around the neck of his robe. ''Sure. Wedding present. Congratulations and all...'' The plump little man wandered away, muttering under his breath about, ''profit margins... financial accountability... gonna kill my accountant...''

''He's supposed to meet us here tomorrow. He had some kind of errand to run. Will you let the scouts know he's expected? I'd hate for him to end up like Joxer.''

''Sure,'' Gabrielle giggled a little. ''On the other hand...,'' she continued naughtily, eyes wide.

Hercules laughed. ''No other hand, Gabrielle. He's my best friend... and he's your friend, too.''

''She's at the temple. I'm surprised you didn't see her there. She's having some kind of meeting with the High Priestess.''

''Well, having been married a time or two myself, I understand how Xena feels. I'll try and round her up, have a talk with her... Maybe give her some friendly advice.''

Gabrielle looked up at the demi-god's earnest face. ''Okay. You do that, Hercules. I'm gonna be in the food hut. I haven't had a thing to eat since breakfast and I'm starved! By the way, I had you guys quartered together; it's the hut right next to ours. There are only three rooms, though. Two of you are gonna hafta bunk together.''

Hercules crossed his arms and buffed the knuckles of one hand against his buff-colored jerkin. ''I think as the only heroes of the outfit, Iolaus and I rate a private room apiece. I honestly don't think I'll get much argument from Joxer and Salmoneus.''

Gabrielle left for the Royal hut, feeling better already. She had every confidence in Hercules' ability to sort things out with Xena.

Left alone, Hercules looked around. Spying a group of willowy Amazon archers, he cocked an eyebrow in their direction and popped a massive bicep. Three of the five swooned; the other two drooled a little but kept on going.

Xena emerged from the river, tossing wet hair over her shoulder with a brisk head shake.

After a sweat-inducing session with the High Priestess Roos, the warrior had felt the need for an immediate bath.

It's not that she's intimidating, Xena thought, wringing out her night-black hair, it's just that she never shuts up! And, by the gods, her topics of conversation...

Indeed, the formidable High Priestess Roos had proved to be a diminutive woman with a face as wrinkled as a month-old apple and salt-and-pepper hair she wore teased up in the Cretan style. She was from one of the Germanic tribes, judging from her accent; her tiny blue eyes were mere slits and she smiled widely... and often.

''Zo,'' she'd trilled upon seeing the sullen warrior, ''you vant to get married? Goot! Virzt, zere are a few paperz you muzt zign.. Mere formalitiez.''

Roos explained, in detail, every clause, sub-clause and footnote in the massive stack of parchment known as the Royal Amazon Bonding Pact - after which, the warrior's head was swimming with so many ''party of the first parts'' and ''foreasmuch's'' that she hungered to climb on Argo and beat the stuffin' out of the first lawyer she spotted.

After what seemed eons of signing, initialing and red penciling, Xena was finally finished. She'd thought Roos was, too, until the bird-like High Priestess settled back into her chair and clasped her hands together in her lap.

''Az ze High Prieztezz, I am required to giff you zome advize. You are avare, I zuppoze, uff zome of ze advantagez und dizadvantagez of lezbian zex?,'' Roos had cooed.

Xena had raised her brows. Before she could reply, however, Roos was off and running.

''Zere is, uff course, no risk uff pregnanzy. Cunnilinguz iz ze primary meanz uff zexual exprezzion, however, some vomen ztill exprezz a dezire for penetrazion. Ziss can, uff courze, be provided for by ze use uff manual ztimulation, az vell az zertain marital aidez...''

By the time the tiny High Priestess, in her funny accent, had run through the various positions, postures, hair-raising sexual aides and illustrations, Xena's head was swimming for another reason, and she'd wondered wildly if she'd wandered into Aphrodite's temple by mistake.

''Do you haff enny qveztionz?,'' Roos had asked, her face wrinkling into a huge grin.

Xena had shaken her head. She felt as if she'd just endured a lecture on human biology by the world's most ridiculously friendly and sincere elf.

''Goot, goot!'' Roos had rubbed her hands together. ''Zo! You marry ze Qveen, you vill be mozt happy, und if you haff enny conzernz, you can come to me ennytime. Und by ze vay... NO zex until AFTER ze vedding!''

Roos had nodded. ''I'm zorry, zat's right. Amazon cuztom... Ze couple MUZT NOT even zo much az touch each udder bee-ginning at zunzet tonight. To do zo vould be conzidered a terrible omen, und ze marriage vould be canzelled. You vill tell ze Qveen, yes? Bye-bye!''

Xena had fled the temple, praying that the priestess' lecture on marriage at the wedding would be a little less graphic - and a lot shorter - and cursing under her breath about... ''Stupid customs!... dumb-ass priestesses... gonna kill Artemis...''

Now, having cleansed herself and finding some of the High Priestesses' more intriguing suggestions running through her head, Xena wondered exactly what her bardie-poo would think about Roos' no-touching policy... and an evil grin spread across her face.

Gabrielle dragged herself onto the bed, groaning with effort. Perhaps it had been a mistake to indulge at the twenty-four candlemark dessert buffet.

Her stomach felt bloated; in fact, the bard feared that if she touched it, she might explode... or maybe birth a Minotaur.

''Ohhhhhhh,'' she moaned, trying to shift to a more comfortable position, but ended up sprawled awkwardly across the blankets.

Xena swept back the curtains that separated the bedroom from the outer chambers. ''Guess what, angel buns?,'' the warrior asked with a huge smile. She brandished a bottle of wine, a scroll and... an eagle feather.

The strawberry-blonde bard only groaned in response. Her belly was making funny squealing noises and she was afraid something awful was about to happen...

(...deep in Gabrielle's guts, alarms were going off all over the place. In fact, the entire scenario would have strongly resembled one of those WWII submarine movies starring some chisel-jawed Hollywood he-man who yelled ''Dive! Dive!'' every five minutes - if Hollywood had been invented yet.

The stomach was on alert status; ominously glowing red lights, whoops and siren wails were making the poor organ's life extremely difficult at the moment. It rushed from one side of the Digestive Control Center to another, frantically trying to calm the other organs, who were on the verge of panic.

Suddenly, a long strip of parchment extruded from the walls; it was the large intestine, communicating via the nervous system. The stomach nervously read the script... then screamed, ''SHE'S GONNA BLOW!''

The brain, sensing something seriously amiss, fired off a communique... ''FIRE IN THE HOLE!'' The other organs ducked and covered, praying they'd survive this latest crisis...)

Gabrielle sat up suddenly. Her sweet face was an unbecoming shade of fava-bean green, and pearled with beads of cold sweat. Her cheeks bulged. ''Ummph!,'' she grunted emphatically.

''Uh-oh,'' Xena said, dropping the wine flagon, scroll and feather to the floor.

''Uumph!,'' Gabrielle grunted again, more frantically, flapping a hand at the stunned warrior. Her belly started to heave...

Xena finally got the hint and rushed to get a basin before the inevitable occurred.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds that issued from the bedchamber were those of someone being thoroughly, utterly, and seriously sick.

Gabrielle raised her face from the basin; Xena wiped it gently with a damp linen square. The bard's eyes were red and watering, but the greenish tint was starting to fade from her cheeks.

Xena quickly retrieved the wine flagon and held it to Gabrielle's lips. ''Don't swallow. Just rinse out your mouth...''

Gabrielle's face was a portrait of suffering. After swishing the wine around in her mouth, she leaned over and spat into the basin.

Xena carried the fouled porcelain container away and returned to the bedside, sitting carefully on the edge. ''How do you feel now?''

Gabrielle sat back. Her strawberry-blonde hair straggled across her face. ''I think I feel a little better. Gods!'' She shuddered. ''I don't think I'll be able to eat another piece of nutbread again.''

''Well, brace yourself, bardie-poo. I've got some bad news and some good news.''

''High Priestess Roos laid an injunction on us. No 'Carthegenian Kitty Rumbles' until after the wedding.''

The warrior nodded. ''In fact, as of sunset tonight, we aren't even supposed to touch each other. But I thought of a way around that.''

''Oh,'' Xena said, rolling her eyes with mock innocence, ''Find your ticklish spots, of course.''

''Oh. OHHHHH,'' Gabrielle said, suddenly comprehending. Then she frowned. ''Maybe we shouldn't, Xena. I mean, that's violating the spirit of the law, if not the letter.''

''To Hades with the spirit of the law! Besides,'' the dark haired warrior said with a grin, flourishing the abandoned scroll, ''I bet I've got something here that'll change your mind.''

''Do tell...'' Gabrielle crossed her arms, eyes slitted. ''You interest me strangely. Go ahead, dream rabbit. Wow me.''

Xena unrolled the scroll and cleared her throat elaborately. After her bath, she'd located Wyllam the Spear-Shaker. That thin, stoop-shouldered Amazon, known far and wide as the Bard of Euphrates, had provided the warrior with a copy of her finest verse. Remembering how Gabrielle had reacted after an impromptu recital of Wyllam's more prosaic bits, Xena couldn't help but feel smug. She had her bardie-poo right where she wanted her...

''Ahem. 'She speaks poniards, and every word stabs; if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there would be no living near her; she would infect to the north star.'''

Xena continued, oblivious to what she was reading. ''...She speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any woman in all Greece. Her reasons are as two grains of wheat, hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them; and, when you have them, they are not worth the search.''

The warrior looked at Gabrielle. To give her credit, Xena's mind was far away, dwelling on how many ways to use a common eagle's feather to bring her bard to transports of delight; she was no more paying any attention to the true nature of Wyllam's verse than the monster in the moon.

Gabrielle's face showed nothing; it might have been carved from stone, but her eyes glowed with some powerful emotion. Xena smiled to herself. This was going better than expected. She scanned down the scroll, and picked the first verse that came to her eye.

''...She's the kitchen wench and all grease; and I know not what use to put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags and the tallow in them will burn a Roman winter; if she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.''

Xena put down the scroll. ''Well?,'' she asked, practically drooling with anticipation.

Gabrielle's sea-green eyes burned, hotter than a Vesuvian eruption. ''Well...,'' she began softly, then her voice rose higher and higher. ''How DARE YOU!!!''

Xena fell off the bed. Once again, the woman she had always thought of as being nice and kind of wishy-washy was turning out to be hot stuff indeed. She raised her hands. ''What's wrong, bardie-poo?''

Gabrielle swung her legs off the bed. ''I'll tell you what's wrong! First, you tell me I'm a foul-mouthed fishwife with major halitosis.'' She ticked off her points finger by finger, stalking the rapidly back-pedaling warrior, who scrabbled away like a crab on hands and knees. ''Then, you insinuate that I'm some kind of idiot whose brain is disconnected from her mouth, and who never has anything of importance to say, anyway.'' She ticked off her points finger by finger. ''Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, NOW you say I'm FAT again! FAT! Do you see any fat here?'' The bard pointed emphatically to her taut, heart-shaped behind.

Xena opened her mouth to protest... and belatedly, Common Sense, who had been practically shouting her lungs out with a bullhorn trying to get through, managed to overcome Lust and let the astonished warrior in on exactly what she had been reciting.

With shaking hands, Xena picked up the scroll and for the first time, took a good look at the heading at the top of the page. It read, ''Insults Guaranteed to Start a Duel or War, Whichever Comes First.''

Oh, caco!, the warrior groaned internally. ''Gabrielle, I'm so, so sorry! I had no idea...''

But that wasn't going to work. No, Gabrielle the Meek had transformed into Gabrielle the Mighty, and by the gods, she meant to strike while the subject was red hot. ''I hate you!,'' the bard screamed. ''I hope you go straight to Tartarus, Xena! Get out! GET OUT! I NEVER want to see you AGAIN!''

Xena tried to explain; she stammered a hasty recitation of the afternoon's events, beginning with Roos' startlingly explicit advice, then her bath, her idea, and finally, her meeting with the Spear-Shaker. Wyllam must have grabbed the wrong scroll from the shelf, Xena thought. Gods! I'm gonna kill her... if I manage to survive the eruption of Mount Bard.

Gabrielle, however, wasn't buying it. The sheer drama and pathos of the situation had her in its grip; she could no more have allowed logic to intervene than she could have stopped the sun. The bard drew herself up as if the blood of a hundred noble senators flowed through her veins. Pointing a finger at the door, she said regally, ''Get out, Xena! Now! Or I'll call the guards!''

In vain, Xena tried to get through to the stony-faced bard, but eventually, accepted defeat. The warrior realized she'd really blown the gaffe this time, and only a miracle would save her now. Head bowed, shoulders slumped, Xena slunk away, metaphorical tail between her legs.

The minute the warrior's armored form disappeared, Gabrielle threw herself on the bed and wept as if her heart were breaking... and it was.

Back at Wyllam's hut, the normally phlegmatic Amazonian bard was flustered. ''Marry, Mistress Xena!,'' she declared. ''I'd no idea you'd gotten the wrong scroll. The fault was mine; I shall see how it can be mended. Aye, though Hades itself bar the way, I shall see you two wed, an' it be the death of me.''

Xena took another gulp of wine. ''Frankly, I'm surprised she didn't have me beheaded, Wyllam. I have never seen Gabrielle so angry in my life. Well, once, but it was justified. Anyway, I don't see how even you can get me out of this mess.''

Wyllam thought, her brow furrowed with concentration. She was tall and thin, with the rounded shoulders of a habitual scholar. Her sable brown hair was thin and lank; her large dark eyes framed by crow's feet. ''I am determined you not be proved a villain, Mistress. Curs't muse!,'' the bard muttered. ''Yon scroll was ne'er intended for public consumption, save only in the odd play or two.''

Wyllam said pensively, ''So, 'tis my grievous fault two hearts were torn asunder, and by mine own words, too! Ne'er fear, Mistress. You and the Queen shall be wed, or I am no bard!''

The two women sat in silence, while the candle, with its regular cross-hatches, burned the hour away. Finally, Wyllam snapped her fingers. ''Perchance I've got it!,'' she exclaimed.

Hastily, the Spear-Shaker explained her plan to the increasingly skeptical Xena. When she'd finished, Wyllam sat back and smiled expansively. ''What thinkest thou?,'' she inquired.

Meanwhile, Hercules had gone down to the river, searching for Xena. What he found was something else entirely...

Staggering out of the bushes was the strangest, most terrifying apparition he had ever seen... and it had Iolaus' voice.

Iolaus shrugged helplessly. His weathered yet still-handsome face had been completely covered in white lead makeup; a crimson line had been drawn around the white center like a border. More crimson had been layered thickly on his lips.

Black stibium outlined his enormous blue eyes, and lampblack on his eyelashes made them stand out as stiffly as spider's-leg fans. A fake beauty spot highlighted the circles of rouge on each cheekbone.

He was wearing a scarlet, one-piece thingy that was tight and strapless, and fringed with black lace. Fishnet stockings, shoes with clunky platform heels and an ostrich-feather boa completed his outfit. His legs weren't bad at all.

''I don't know, big guy,'' Iolaus moaned, sinking down on a log. ''I got to the forest last night, and decided to stay there instead of coming on to the village. Next thing I know, I'm being attacked by some kinda demon or something...''

Iolaus shrugged again. ''Dunno. All's I know is that I fought it, man oh man, did I fight! But I was helpless; it had some kind of superhuman strength or something... I guess it knocked me unconscious, 'cause the next thing I know, I wake up looking like this.'' He waved his hands to indicate his costume.

''No caco, Herc! I snuck into the village, hoping nobody would see me before I could find you guys and get into some decent clothes.''

Hercules shook his head. ''Okay. I brought your spare outfit; it's in the hut, which, by the way, we're sharing with Joxer and Salmoneus.''

''Oh, gods!,'' Iolaus groaned. ''Fer the love of Zeus, big guy, don't let Joxer see me in this get-up. I'll never hear the end of it.''

Hercules patted the despondent blonde warrior on one shoulder... after glancing around to make sure there were no witnesses. ''No problem. Look, why don't you take off that rig before somebody else wanders along, and clean up a little. I'll run by the hut and pick up your clothes.''

''Oh, would you? That'd be great, just great! Thanks, Herc. You're a real pal.''

Hercules left as Iolaus began tearing the costume from his body. There was something decidedly funky about Iolaus' description... I mean, normally, the demi-god thought, I'd get a blow-by-blow account of the fight, with Iolaus' usual hyperbole. But maybe he was, I dunno, traumatized by the whole thing. Gods know I would be, waking up looking like THAT!

Hercules quickly found Iolaus' second best shirt (which was in all respects identical to the ugly purple one he usually wore) and a pair of breeches. Upon exiting the hut, however, he saw something that made him stop in the middle of the street, stunned.

An... er, woman sauntered past, frizzy black hair bouncing on her shoulders. Passing the mesmerized hero, Oscarina blew him a kiss. ''Hello, muscle man,'' she purred, walking away with undulating hips.

Wait a second, Hercules thought... and his mind swiftly threw together the combination of two and two, coming up immediately with a partial answer: What the Hades had Iolaus been DOING in the woods last night? 'Cause the hero now knew with whom the warrior had been doing it...

''I'm not sure if I want to get to the bottom of this,'' Hercules muttered to himself, then smirked at his unintentional pun.

Looked like Iolaus had had quite the little adventure... and the demi-god wasn't sure, considering how many times the two men had shared a bedroll, if he wanted to know just exactly how far it had gone.

Later that evening, long after Iolaus had assumed his proper costume (although the blonde warrior had to wonder why Hercules kept looking at him with that strange expression on his face), the quiet peace of the sleepy Amazon village was shattered.

Beneath the window of the Royal hut, a voice drifted up into the star-speckled darkness.

''But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Gabrielle is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief;
That thou her maid art far more fair than she.''

Gabrielle rose from her bed and padded softly to the window. There, standing at a respectful distance, dramatically outlined in the silvery moonlight, stood her warrior love.

Xena was dressed in armor, and her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders. Her beautiful face was carved in planes and angles by shadow. In one hand, she clutched an enormous bouquet of violets, wild roses and eglantine. Sinking to one knee, she waited hopefully for Gabrielle's reply.

The amazon bard was astonished. She had passed from blind rage to profound regret, and had wept most of the afternoon. Recalling Xena's words, Gabrielle had understood that a mistake had been made, and it was hers; she had totally overreacted to the situation.

Heartsick, Gabrielle had gone over the conversation in her mind over and over, beating herself unmercifully, calling herself every name she could think of, excoriating herself over her cruel treatment of the women who loved her. She had decided that the best thing to do would be to leave the village at sunrise... sneak away... let Xena find someone else, someone who would never treat her as so badly.

Now, the chains that the bard had bound around her heart were breaking one by one. Thinking furiously, Gabrielle gave the only answer she could.

''O! Speak again, bright angel,'' the bard said quietly.
''For thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head
As a winged messenger of Olympus.''

Xena breathed a sigh of relief. In front of her, hidden from Gabrielle's view, a foolishly grinning Wyllam gave the warrior the ''thumbs-up'' sign.

''I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear one, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;
Had I written it, I would tear the word.''

''What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.''

Xena was starting to feel like this crazy scheme of Wyllam's just might work. Scooting forward a little, she declared,

''It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
The brightness of her cheek doth shame the stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing and think it were not night.''

Gabrielle was stricken dumb. She could only watch, emotion welling up from her breast, as Xena continued her discourse.

''Here did she fall a tear;,'' the warrior said, ''here, in this place,
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace;
Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen.''

Tears began to trickle from the bard's sea-green eyes. ''Xena,'' she said, ''I said so many terrible things... gods, I'm sorry! Please...''

''O, sorrow! That mine own words should have harmed thee;
Had I courage, I had plucked out mine own tongue
Than let thee be injured by't.''

Gabrielle stretched out her hand. ''No, it was all my fault...,'' but Xena interrupted.

''You may my glories and my state depose,
But not my griefs; still I am queen of those.''

The bard wept, and longed for nothing more than to throw herself into Xena's strong arms. The dark-haired warrior, glancing at Wyllam making shoo-ing motions from her invisible emplacement, rose and strode to the windowsill, a careful armslength from the crying bard.

''Gabrielle,'' Xena said, tears spilling from her ice-blue eyes, ''We can't touch, though I wish to the gods we could. But... I am sorry. I didn't mean a word of those things I said. It was just a mistake.''

''Shhh, love,'' Xena breathed, carefully inserting the bouquet of flowers into Gabrielle's arms. ''It's okay. I still love you, and I still want to make an honest woman of you. That is... if you'll still have me?''

The two women stood and gazed deeply into one another's eyes, as a triumphant Wyllam Spear-Shaker snuck off to her own hut, mentally composing a play about two star-crossed lovers...

Meanwhile, after Gabrielle got herself under control, she smiled. Despite reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks, the bard was still breathtakingly beautiful. ''Okay... now what?''

Xena grinned and whipped an eagle's feather from behind her back. ''Wanna violate the law's spirit a little?''

Gabrielle raised oa red-gold brow and giggled. ''Why not? It's not like we're gonna actually break it...''

Just next door to the billing and cooing lovers, another little drama was unfolding.

''Go away!,'' a crimson faced Iolaus was hissing to the shadowy figure outside his window. ''It was a mistake, I tell you!''

Oscarina pouted magnificently. ''Of course, babykins. I understand, really.'' Her deep voice, with its rounded Oxfordian tones, dripped with poisoned honey. ''You're just afraid they'll find out, aren't you?''

Iolaus glanced around nervously. ''Look, I mean, you snuck into my bedroll and started, well, you know... I was half asleep, after all... I mean, how was I supposed to know you were a guy?''

Oscarina cocked an ebony brow. ''You could have asked, my little cutsey-wootsey.''

If Iolaus face had been any brighter, it would have outshone the moon. ''This sort of thing has never happened to me before...''

Iolaus glanced around again. Fortunately, Hercules was a sound sleeper and so far, Salmoneus and Joxer's stenorous snoring drowned out every other sound. ''We are not going there.''

Oscarina cocked one fist on her hip. ''Listen, sweetie,'' she purred, ''I'm really not interested in you anymore, anyway. I only do it with virgins.''

''WHAT?!!'' Iolaus immediately clapped one hand over his mouth and breathed heavily, eyes bulging. ''What do you mean, virgins?,'' he continued in a much lower tone of voice.

Oscarina grinned wickedly. ''Well, you did tell me you've never done it with a man before, babykins. Or did I misunderstand?''

Immediately, Iolaus sucked in his breath, stuck out his chest and assumed a manly, heterosexual pose, practically oozing testosterone. ''Of course I've never done it with a man before. Whaddya think I am, anyway? Some kind of sissy boy?'' He stood there, muscles bulging all over the place, and tried to sprout hair on his chest by the power of thought alone.

Oscarina leaned over and patted the blonde warrior's cheek. ''Oh, you definitely aren't a boy... and now you can't really say never, can you?''

Iolaus deflated like a pricked pig bladder. ''Oh. I never thought of it that way...''

Oscarina laughed softly. It was a thoroughly evil chuckle, and the hairs on the back of Iolaus' neck saluted. ''Have no fear, Iolaus. I promise I'll never tell a soul...'' With that parting shot, the Transylvanian transvestite undulated away...

Leaving Iolaus standing at the window, wondering how the Hades he was going to explain the whole mess to his best friend... Do you think he'll insist on separate bedrolls from now on?

The following day dawned bright and cheerful. The Amazon village was packed tighter than a Kushite queen's girdle; messengers scurried back and forth; and tempers were stretched as tight as lute strings as the Big Day approached with elephantine tread.

Falafel had arrived, bringing with him a pack of thoroughly disgusting helpers, who were as filthy as the caterer himself. Setting up temporary shop outside the village, the smells that came from his smoking ovens were enough to turn a vulture's stomach.

It was Ephiny's thought that maybe taking the lowest bid might not have been such a good idea after all.

Epinon, in the meantime, was spending half her time threatening giggling Amazons with immediate dismemberment if so much as one ''dream rabbit'' or ''bardie-poo'' made it to the ears of either Queen or Consort-to-be. The other half was spent sweating the details that make weddings, particularly large and elaborate weddings, such hellish affairs that it's a wonder the human race hasn't just thrown up its collective hands in disgust and given the whole thing a wash.

Joxer had been de-pants again, this time by some of the adolescent trainees in the fifth year class... Salmoneus was running around like a maniac, tearing at his sparse gray hair and muttering about... ''overhead... cost overruns... budget analysis...''

Hercules and Iolaus had a heart to heart talk; it appeared that the demi-god was possessed, not only of Olympian strength, but also of Olympian hearing.

''Okay, so you're telling me it was an honest mistake? It's a little hard to believe, Iolaus, but I'll take your word for it.''

Iolaus was getting desperate. His face was stubbled; the blonde warrior had decided that maybe he should cultivate a mustache or something. ''Look, Herc, have you ever known me as anything but a drink-till-you-puke, kick-around-the-Hydra, wenching-till-all-hours kinda guy?''

''And do you remember certain incidents in the Allustrian Forest* a few weeks back?'' (*Author's Note: See ''Myth-Understandings for the whole story.)

''Well, if you'll recall, there were some serious misunderstandings about you and I as well.''

The two men sat in silence. Finally, Hercules said, ''You know, Iolaus... I didn't mean anything when I touched your butt back then.''

Iolaus jumped up. Assuming an ''I'm-butcher-than-thou'' pose, he spat, ''Fine! Just fine! After all the time we've spent together, and this is the treatment I get! You think I'm a boy-lover, don't you?''

Iolaus interrupted furiously. ''I told you it was a MISTAKE!'' He stomped around in a circle. ''A frimpin', frackin', furkin', feezin', frumpin', farkin' mistake! Okay! I like GIRLS! Get it? GIRLS! In fact, I think I beat you in that department, Mr. Once-in-a-Blue-Moon! Come to think of it, You haven't exactly been cutting a swath through the females lately... maybe you have something to tell me?''

Now it was Hercules' turn to flush. ''Whaddya mean by that?,'' he asked dangerously.

Iolaus flapped his hands at the demi-god, his wrists limp. ''Oh, I think you know what I mean, Mr.It's-Cold-Tonight -So-Let's-Share-the-Bedroll,'' he cooed in devastatingly sarcastic falsetto.

Immediately, Hercules leaped up and sucked in his breath, swelling every muscle in his body simultaneously. Even his eyebrow hairs seemed to flex. ''Are you insinuating I'm... I'm...,'' he choked.

''Oh yeah?,'' Iolaus sneered, neatly blocking a jab. ''I haven't seen you fighting too many girls lately, hero-man.''

The two men rolled around the room, squealing like Circe's banquet guests. Fairly quickly, the professional fighting stances of both men degenerated into a hair pullin', bitch slappin', knock-down-drag-out tomcat fight, complete with shrill screams of rage and lots of attempts to scratch each other's eyes out.

Soon, Hercules had Iolaus down, straddling the other warrior's body, using his superior weight to keep him down. Both hands in Iolaus' tangled blonde hair, Hercules banged his head against the floor again and again, gritting through clenched teeth, ''You take that back! You take it back or else I'll...''

The fight ceased. Blue eyes and brown rolled in the direction of the interruption. Xena stood at the door of the hut, lips quirked in a tiny smile. ''Am I interrupting something, boys?,'' she asked coolly, eyebrows raised.

In a heartbeat, both men were on their feet and on opposite sides of the room, acting with elaborate nonchalance. ''No, no, not at all,'' Hercules said. His muscles were still swelled, and he thrust out his chest and strutted a little.

From his own corner, Iolaus began to strike heroic poses. ''Nope,'' he said with studied casualness, ''nothing goin' on here.''

Xena took in Hercules' bloody lip... Iolaus rapidly swelling eye... and decided she really didn't want to know. ''Good. Since you're both not busy, you can help Ephiny and Salmoneus over at the reception tent. The wedding's tomorrow, and we've got a million things to do. Oh, and before you go, will somebody please get Joxer down from that frimpin' tree?''

Hercules and Iolaus looked at each other. ''Uh, sure, Xena,'' Hercules said. Iolaus just nodded.

Finally, Hercules marched over to Iolaus and stuck out his hand. ''I'm sorry, Iolaus. I should have believed you.''

Iolaus said ruefully, ''I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean a word of what I said, really, big guy. Let's just forget about and be friends.''

They shook hands... Blue eyes gazed deeply into brown... and for a moment, something... special... passed between the two heroes. Immediately, they snatched their hands away from each other's as if they were white-hot horseshoes, clearing their throats simultaneously.

Eventually, the moment of masculine insecurity passed. ''C'mon, Iolaus,'' Hercules said to his friend, ''let's go see about Joxer.''

As they left the room, Iolaus voice floated back, ''I ain't touchin' him unless he puts his pants on first.''

Fortunately, no more incidents occurred, and the day passed into night, then bloomed into another crimson dawn.

Gabrielle and Xena had been up since the break of day, although separated by Ephiny and her Amazon cohorts. ''Ah, ah, ah!,'' Ephiny had said teasingly. ''You guys can't see each other from now until the wedding.''

Xena had rolled her pale blue eyes. ''More custom?,'' she'd asked sarcastically.

''That's right. C'mon, my Queen. We've got a lot to do before the ceremony.'' The blonde Regent had taken the bard by the hand and led her away, leaving Xena to sigh and finger her sword hilt.

Nah, Xena finally thought. If I kill her, who's gonna run the Nation until we get back from the honeymoon?

After spending a couple of candlemarks talking sternly to her stomach (which was, due to the influence of nerves, feeling quite wobbly), Xena raised her arm and sniffed. ''Gods!,'' she said to herself, ''I stink but good! I'd better grab a bath before my bardie-poo thinks she's sleeping with a polecat.''

Grabbing a couple of linen sheets and some honey-scented soap, the dark-haired warrior trooped down to the river for a bath.

The water was crisp and decidedly coolish. Deciding she'd better go ahead and do a thorough job, Xena washed her hair, too, ducking under the river for a final rinse. Brrrrrrr, she thought, shivering, as she walked out onto the bank. Any more of that and my woogee'll be frozen solid.

As she stepped up onto the bank, a rustling in the nearby bushes attracted her immediate attention.

Odd noises came from the bushes... a kind of whimpering, like an animal in pain.

Xena noiselessly picked up a smooth, round river rock from the bank and held it poised to throw. Her sword and armor were way over there, and while it wasn't the first time Xena had faced danger naked as a newborn, not even having a string of fish as a weapon made her feel a wee bit vulnerable.

Suddenly, a figure burst from the bushes, landing at her feet. ''Gods! Xena! Thank Zeus it's you!''

His hair was covered by an elaborately styled auburn wig, and his lean warrior's body was clad in a floor-length moss-green gown, revealing feminine curves that had to be fake.

Iolaus' face was made up, too, with stibium, crimson paint and long false eyelashes. In fact, Xena thought, looking him up and down, he didn't make a bad looking girl...

Iolaus shuddered. Twice in two days was more than enough! ''It was horrible, Xena, just horrible!''

Quickly, Xena wrapped a sheet around her still wet body and crouched down next to the stricken warrior. ''Who did this to you, Iolaus?''

As if in answer, a voice lifted in song from far away. ''Someone's rocking my dreamboat, someone's invading my dream...''

From a distance, both warrior's thought they heard an odd little laugh. ''Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh.''

Iolaus shuddered again. ''I swear I was minding my own business, Xena, when alluva sudden this... this... enormous lepus just knocked me over, and he and this strange little man started shoving this dress and stuff on me. I tried to fight 'em, really, but the rabbit said something about, 'here's where you get yours back, Fudd' and the strange little man just laughed and laughed...'' Iolaus clutched at the wig. ''Gods! I can't take this anymore!''

Iolaus realized he'd almost let the felinus out of the beltpouch. ''Um... nothing,'' he said hastily. ''Look, could you get me some normal clothes? Please?''

Xena stood up. ''Sure, Iolaus,'' she said, patting his shoulder. ''Why don't you wash your face, and for the gods' sake, get rid of that ridiculous get-up. I'll just run over to your hut and grab something for you to wear. If anybody comes along, just jump in the river and pretend you're bathing or something; I'll be right back.''

The dark haired warrior left Iolaus on the riverbank, tearing off the wig and gown... Zeus!, Xena thought... How'm I gonna explain this to Hercules?

Finally having gotten the cringing Iolaus sorted out, and having made up some plausible excuse to the skeptical Hercules about Iolaus needing new clothes, Xena finally made it back to the semi-isolated hut she'd been given the use of that morning.

The sleeveless gown had a deeply dipping neckline, and had been dyed in graduated colors of blue; from robin's egg at the bodice, through peacock, sapphire, and finally a midnight so dark as to appear nearly black. Xena put it on quickly, smoothing her callused hands across the Croan silk.

The Consort's coronet, encrusted with sapphires and black pearls, held the warrior's ebony hair away from her face. The center stone, a massive sapphire beryl the color of the Aegean Sea, was centered in her forehead. Matching bracelets and earrings accompanied the electrum band.

A wide, fringed sash gathered the elaborate folds around the warrior's body. She caught sight of herself in a bronze mirror leaning against one wall of the hut... and stared.

Looking back at her was not a warlord or a warrior. Instead, a princess of barbaric yet elegant splendor gazed back at her with eyes the color of a cloudless day. Sapphires caught the lamplight and threw it back in blue-tinged rainbow splendor. Xena looked every inch a Consort fit for a Queen.

Quickly, Xena gathered her armor up and placed it carefully on the stand provided. There were no shoes; she would go barefoot to her wedding, even as Gabrielle would; a symbol of both women's connection to the earth, and thus, to one another.

She held her scabbarded sword in one hand thoughtfully. Then, she placed it with her chakram near the door. One of her Amazon escorts would bring the warrior's weapons to the ceremony.

Xena sat down carefully in a nearby chair, folding her hands in her lap and composed herself to wait.... and wait... and wait.

It seemed like an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few candlemarks before Xena heard a knock on the door of her hut.

Drawing a deep breath, Xena squared her shoulders and went to answer the summons. Flinging wide the door, her smile faltered when she realized that it was not the Amazon escort she had been expecting.

A grinning Joxer stood there, dressed in his motley collection of mis-matched bits of ill-fitting armor. ''Hiya, Xena! Ep sent me over to get you. They're taking Gabrielle to the temple now.''

Peering past Joxer, Xena could see the Queen's palanquin, borne on the shoulders of a contingent of burly Amazons, and escorted by a full phalanx of the Royal Guard, swaying up the path toward the temple. She looked back at Joxer and her teeth began to grind.

Snatching up her sword and chakram, she thrust them into Joxer's arms. ''Take these, and for the love of Zeus, don't lose them, break them, or anything else! Just carry them to the temple, okay? I'll get one of the Amazons to take them from you before the ceremony starts.''

Xena marched out of the hut, Joxer scurrying on her heels. ''You know, Xena, you guys really had me going there for a while. I mean, even after that Bacchai stuff, I thought you were just friends.''

''Uh-huh,'' Xena replied absently. Mentally she was far away, gleefully strangling Epinon and doing a fandango on the Amazon's most precious parts. Bet Eph wouldn't have her on a silver platter with an apple in her mouth after I got through with her, Xena thought savagely.

With the lack of tact and good sense for which Joxer was famous, he chose that particular moment to shove his pede into his ora in a spectacular manner. ''Hey, uh, Xena? I bet I know what you're problem is.''

Xena stopped dead. ''Just what might that be?,'' she asked in a dangerously sweet voice.

As usual, Joxer refused to take the hint in a manner that would have made a Sabine mule proud. ''You girls just never found a real man,'' he replied slyly.

Slowly, Xena counted to ten... in Egyptian, Phoenician, Cymric and Macedonian... before she answered him. ''I suppose you mean you?''

Joxer nodded, his ridiculous helmet tilting into his slightly crossed brown eyes. ''Uh-huh!,'' he said emphatically. ''I'll bet a mighty warrior like myself could have 'cured' you girls of what ails you.''

Again, Xena counted... this time to twenty. In every language she knew. ''What exactly do you mean, Joxer?''

''You know.'' He poked the dark-haired and simmering warrior in the ribs with one elbow and winked. ''I mean, you and Gabby? C'mon! One night with Joxer the Mighty and I bet you'd never look at another woman again!''

Had he known how close to death he was at that very moment (in fact, Hades, down in his dark realm, was already wincing with anticipation and dread), Joxer would have run for his life and probably kept running for decades. Instead, he stood there, clutching Xena's weapons... and smiled with the innocence of a man who's about to unknowingly walk off a steep cliff into a pool of piranhas.

Finally, Xena answered him. ''I see.'' That was all she said; she turned on her heel and continued her march to the temple.

Mentally, she had decided to let Joxer live... for the time being. With the wedding being so imminent, there was no time to hide the dismembered body well, and inevitably, the smell would bring discovery. However, Xena promised herself, after the wedding... We'll see.

She smiled, a smile so purely evil that if Joxer had seen it, his heart would have stopped on the spot.

Xena stood at the altar, looking up at the High Priestess Roos, who was dressed in her full panoply as the representative of Artemis on Gaia.

Nice dress, Xena thought, but I think the horned moon headdress is a little much.

In fact, the headdress of a High Priestess of Artemis made the tiny little woman look like a miniature cow, albeit a cow heavy in years whose udders had seen better days, and who was likely to say the most shocking things in a funny Germanic accent.

Roos leaned down and patted Xena's hand. ''Zere, now,'' she cooed, ''It'z almozt over, Xena. Chuzt a few more minutez, und you vill be a married voman.''

Epinon slid into her place beside the lightly sweating warrior. ''I'm here,'' she half-whispered to Xena, tugging her linen tunic into place. ''Now remember: First, Roos' sermon; then the oaths, then the exchange of gifts. Got it?''

Xena nodded weakly. Now that the moment had come, her bowels felt distinctly watery. (In fact, the warrior's bowels were on strike; too much nervous tension had resulted in a massive breakdown of the entire digestive system. The brain was busy trying to recruit scab labor, but had little hope of success. It could only hope that the inevitable blow-out could be postponed until after the ceremony.)

Epinon clutched Xena's arm. In her other hand she held Xena's weapons, retrieved from Joxer. ''It's okay, Xena. I won't let you faint, or get ill, or run away.''

Xena snatched her arm from Epinon's grasp. ''Ladies get ill,'' she growled. ''Warrior's vomit.''

Xena turned to face the massive temple doors. A full orchestra (imported all the way from Athens at great expense) was playing a dramatic air, fraught with horns, drums and oodles of strings.

The Spartan hurdy-gurdy player was pouting in a corner, her instrument hanging limply around her neck. She'd been denied a place in the musical entertainment, it being felt generally that while hurdy-gurdies had their place, it definitely wasn't at a Royal Wedding, and she was feeling quite put-upon. Joxer slid over to her and panted, ''So, you're not one of those girls, are you?'' When she didn't immediately try to stuff her music box into any of his orifices, Joxer puffed out his chest and thought, Hey! I think she's in love...

Trumpets blatted a resounding crescendo; the doors were flung open, and a contingent of Amazon warriors, dressed to the nines in gold-tooled breastplates and bouillon fringed skirts, marched down the aisle in formation, then stopped and crossed their ceremonial spears overhead to form a canopy for their Queen to walk beneath.

On their heels came a troop of little girls, all of them wearing cute pale pink dresses, tossing rose petals from tiny gilded baskets.

Next, Aramanthia, the aged hermit, carried the war banner of Amazonia, stepping as proudly as a retired warhorse who still hears the skirling of battlefield pipes. Zeus!, Aramanthia thought, this frimpin' thing is heavy... I hope after all this pomp nonsense is over, this old lady can cuddle up to a nice cup of wine and gum some venison...

Gabrielle, flanked by Ephiny and Hercules, stood at the entrance, sunlight streaming behind her like an Olympian halo.

She wore a white, full-length, off-the-shoulder gown, so encrusted with pearls and silver embroidery it practically crackled when she walked.

The bard's red-gold hair was done up in tiers of curls, held in place by a thin gold headband and white ribbons. A gauzy, translucent veil hung from the headband, not concealing her features as much as perfecting them.

In her hands, Gabrielle clutched a bouquet of pale lilies and ropes of ivy. In time with the music, she and her escort proceeded sedately down the aisle.

As one, all of the guests, who were crammed cheek to jowl in the benches, gave a collective sigh. ''Ooooooh...''

All except for Iolaus; he was cowering beneath a bench, hoping to avoid Oscarina (who had decided to give the wedding a miss to go 'Fudd hunting' in the forest) and the crazy rabbit (who was currently holding court in Pismo Beach, regaling bystanders with stories about 'that nutty bloinde over in Amazoinia.').

Gabrielle serenely sailed to her place at Xena's side. The dark haired warrior's heart nearly burst with pride and love.

Roos gave her sermon, but to her dying day, Xena never remembered a word. All she remembered was the feeling of unreality that permeated everything, and the glowing passion in her bard's sea-green eyes.

As if in a dream, Xena answered Roos' questions; allowed the High Priestess to prick her hand with a silver pin for the requisite blood sacrifice. As Roos placed the warrior and bard's hands together and wound a length of cloth-of-gold around them, intoning the sacred words of bonding, Xena realized that all of her previous life had been leading up to this moment; if the warrior had died right then, she would have gone to Tartarus happily, secure in the knowledge that love had been given... and received... and returned ten-fold.

With a start, Xena realized that Roos was looking at her expectantly. Hastily running over the High Priestess' last words, the dark-haired warrior realized with a sense of shock that the assembled company (not to mention a flashing eyed bard) was waiting for her to recite her vows... and she'd forgotten to memorize them!

Xena groped for something to say, anything, screaming silently inside for her brain to WAKE UP for the gods' sake and not embarrass her at her frimpin' WEDDING... then, a sharp poke in her back made her instinctively dart her hands behind her to block the blow, and a rolled up scroll was thrust into her groping fingers.

She unrolled the scroll, carefully noting that the heading mentioned neither insults nor duels nor wars, and began to recite in a ringing voice:

''Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my Queen, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a happy slave, stay and think of naught
Save, where you are how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do anything, I think no ill.''

Gabrielle's eyes sparkled with tears as Xena took her sword and chakram from Epinon's hands and laid them at the bard's feet. It was a warrior's greatest act of surrender, and the assembled Amazons, overcome with emotion, burst into a storm of tears. Handkerchiefs were exchanged, and the massive sound of noses blown simultaneously was well-nigh deafening.

Suddenly, Gabrielle whitened. The verse she had spent countless hours composing, and even longer rewriting and refining, had blown completely out of her head as if it had never existed. Over-confidence had caused her to leave the battered little scroll in the Royal hut, and for one wild moment, Gabrielle nearly considered bringing the ceremony to a halt until it could be brought.

Then sense asserted itself. No way am I going to spoil the greatest day in my life with something so stupid!, she thought. C'mon, bard, think! THINK, ZEUS, DAMMIT!

As Gabrielle's brain scrambled around desperately for something to say, (Unfortunately, like Xena's bowels, Gabrielle's brain was on strike; it had had enough of this nonsense, thank you very much, and as far as it was concerned, a mere 'Ditto' could suffice), a scroll was thrust into her hands by a smiling Wyllam Spear-Shaker.

''How can my Muse want subject to invent,
When thou doest breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For common parchment to rehearse?
O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee
When thou thyself doth give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than the other nine which rhymers invocate;
And she that calls on thee, let her bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight Muse do please these days,
The words are mine; but thine shall be the praise.''

Those fortunate few whose eardrums survived the previous Amazonian three-hanky response, now found those precious organs in even more danger than before. Wails of, ''Oh! How beautiful!,'' and ''Have you got a spare linen?'' echoed from the temple walls.

A dumbstruck Hercules looked at a slightly smug Spear-Shaker. ''You wrote all that?,'' he finally asked.

Speechless, the handsome demi-god gave the Amazonian bard a bow of profound respect.

Roos held up her hands for silence. When the weeping and wailing subsided, the diminutive High Priestess smiled.

Shyly, Gabrielle held out a velvet bag. ''I know you don't wear rings, Xena. Warrior's rules and all that. But I thought you could wear this.''

Xena took the pouch with trembling hands. Opening the drawstring top, she upended it into her palm. A steel bracelet glittered in the sunlight, drawing a gasp of awe (and a little envy) from the Amazon onlookers.

The cuff had been fashioned in the shape of a sword; the blade wrapped around the wrist, fastening to the cunning basketweave hilt. A green beryl, the exact shade of Gabrielle's eyes, had been set into the pommel.

Xena doffed her right bracelet and slipped the bard's gift onto her wrist. It was a perfect fit. Looking up at Gabrielle, Xena said wonderingly, ''How?''

Gabrielle smiled. ''You remember that festival in Erosia-by-the-Sea? Well, I won a bard's contest and had dinars to spare, so I had a craftsman make that especially for you. Believe me, that blacksmith thought I was crazy, but I eventually talked him around. His courier caught up with me yesterday. Do you like it?'

Xena's eyes filled with tears. ''Gabrielle,'' she said huskily, ''I love it. And I love you. Here.''

Gabrielle, breathless with anticipation (as were the Amazons; they leaned forward so far the entire front row ended up arse-over-teakettle in the aisles), opened the hinged lid... to reveal a ring.

Crafted of the red-gold famed throughout Gaul, the ring was composed entirely of tiny, interwoven feathers; every vane, every flourish detailed and completed with a master's touch. Gabrielle looked closer, and realized with a thrill that what she had taken for feathers were actually quills. A single onyx stone graced the ring; the face of it had been carved in the best likeness of Xena's profile the bard had ever seen... barring the original, of course.

''Oh, Xena!,'' Gabrielle breathed, then slid the ring onto the middle finger of her left hand (the Romans believed a vein led from this finger straight to the heart) and said, ''It's just perfect! I love you so much...''

Snatching the veil from her face, Gabrielle threw herself into the waiting Xena's arms and kissed her thoroughly.

The Amazons cheered; even Joxer, who had been preoccupied with flirting with the still-pouting hurdy-gurdy player, clapped his hands together for the completion of the Wedding of the Millennia.

''So,'' he said, turning back to the dark-haired beauty who slouched against the wall, ''read any good scrolls lately?''

Xena looked down into Gabrielle's slightly flushed face. The reception had been going on for candlemarks; famished Amazons had fallen on Falafel's culinary offerings like starving wolves, and the brewers had been hard pressed to keep the beer, wine and other potables flowing.

The two women sat side by side, reclining on a pile of cushions some thoughtful person had heaped up on a small dais. They held hands and sipped wine; Xena had insisted on feeding Gabrielle every bite of her supper, and the bard had reciprocated in kind.

Oscarina, with a wildly doting Fudd at her side, was teaching a group of drunken Amazons how to do a dance called, oddly enough, 'The Time Warp.' The bit with the knees (not to mention the pelvic thrust) had them giggling and falling all over one another trying to keep their balance...

Hercules and Ephiny were slow dancing to an instrumental version of ''Feelings'' being played by the Spartan hurdy-gurdy girl, accompanied by Joxer on a set of badly-tuned nosepipes. A furiously jealous Epinon had grabbed Iolaus by the scruff of his neck and hauled him on the dance floor, too. Both women glared at each other over the shoulders of their respective partners... While Hercules and Iolaus exchanged helpless glances...

''Uh, Ephiny?,'' Hercules said tentatively. ''If we get any closer, we're going to pass each other.''

Ephiny didn't deign to reply; instead, she snuggled into the demi-god with a sigh, causing Epinon to grind her teeth and give the Regent a poisonous look.

Xena stood up, stretching; then reached down and hauled Gabrielle to her feet with a grunt. ''Let's turn in,'' the dark-haired warrior said with an arch grin. ''I feel like celebrating.''

''Gee. I wonder why?,'' Gabrielle asked mischievously. Then the bard withdrew a somewhat worse-for-wear eagle's feather from the bodice of her gown. ''Think we can find a use for this?''

A sudden flash of brilliant white light made both women jump. ''What the Hades was that?,'' Xena asked.

To the shock, horror and (to some of the more plastered women) amusement of the crowd, the gods stood in the center of the tent in all their Olympian glory.

Artemis was the first to speak. ''Greetings, my Nation and my Queen! We, the gods, have come here this evening to give our gift to this most happy couple.'' Striding forward, the goddess of the hunt handed a gaping Gabrielle a scroll. ''Congratulations, dear,'' she said under her breath, ''I'm just thrilled to pieces for you both.''

The scroll was of the finest white vellum and covered in the most perfect calligraphy Gabrielle had ever seen. She scanned the document, her sea-green eyes growing wider as she continued to read.

Finally, she looked at Xena. ''I don't believe this,'' she muttered in amazement.

''Well, the long and the short of it is that every god in Olympus, and I'm including Hades and Poseidon here, has signed a non-interference pact.''

Artemis smiled broadly. ''It means, Xena, that our gift to you is two whole weeks of total non-interference from the gods. No pranks, no jacking about in your lives, no nothing! Even the Fates signed; you gals are on your own for the next fourteen days.''

Xena looked thoughtful. ''No monsters? No blood-thirsty warlords? No giants? No screwy serio-comic adventures co-starring look-alikes, sub-text heavy misunderstandings or weird guys falling in love with me... or Gabrielle? No getting killed and returning from the dead? No Joxer popping up like the demon-king in a pantomime? No releasing, or chaining up, Titans who have to be banished and/or rescued? No more Bacchae seducing my bard? No more Callisto or Valeska destroying villages, killing our families or otherwise trying to get revenge on either of us?''

Artemis patted Xena's cheek. ''Nope. Every god, including Hera, by the way, has sworn by the Styx: No messing about in your lives. For two weeks, anyway. After that, all bet's are off.''

Xena drew a deep breath and put an arm around Gabrielle's shoulders. ''Well, that's all right then.''

Gabrielle snuggled into Xena's shoulder. ''That's fantastic, Artemis. Thank you, all of you,'' she continued, raising her voice.

The Amazon Nation didn't know whether to bow, kow-tow or throw up. In the end, they cheered wildly.

Hercules and Iolaus, both of them more than slightly drunk, swayed up to Zeus. ''Hi, dad,'' Hercules said. ''Whazzup?''

Zeus gave his son a sharp look. ''I want you to know, son, I had one Hades of a time recovering from all that Allustrian Forest and Erosia-by-the-Sea nonsense. Nearly busted a gut, but I gotta tell you boys, you sure know how to perpetuate a myth-understanding - if you know what I mean.'' The King of the Gods winked.

Hercules and Iolaus exchanged a look. Finally, Iolaus waved a dismissive hand and hiccuped gravely. ''Whatever,'' he said heavily. Zeus winced as a wave of serious wine/beer/Falafel breath washed over him.

''Olympians!,'' Zeus roared. ''Let's show these mortals how to throw a REAL party!''

Salmoneus insinuated himself next to the matronly Demeter. ''I don't suppose I could interest you in some slightly used Samianware?''

The look she gave the cringing merchant could have been bottled and used as paint remover, varnish stripper and, in a pinch, majorly radical armor polish.

Meanwhile, Athena had wandered over to the spectacle of Octarina and the Fudd, arms around one another's waists, singing at the top of their lungs, ''Hot-patootie, bwess my soul! I weawy wuv dat wock an' woll!...''

The goddess reached up and scratched the breast feathers of the owl that perched on her shoulders. ''Hey, guys?,'' she asked, ''You know the Lepus Hop?''

Oscarina stopped singing and looked at the goddess with black eyes that sparkled with mischief. Raising one brow, she pouted magnificently and breathed, ''No, babykins. But if you hum a few bars, I'll fake it.''

She and the Fudd collapsed into each other's arms, giggling wildly. Athena, her own eyes wide with speculation, contemplated the duo with a puzzled expression. ''Wait-a-frimpin'-minute... You're that Rocky Horror guy, right? The man who wears women's clothes and...''

Oscarina looked up at the goddess and smirked. ''Wrong movie, 'Thena-baby. I'm on loan from 1st Century Reynard. And I'm not much of a man by the light of day, but by night I'm one helluva lover!''

''Ooooookay...,'' Athena replied as Oscarina laughed wickedly, and the odd little Fudd ''huh-huh-huh'd'' until he was purple.

Cupid and Aphrodite were huddled together in one corner, whispering and gesturing. Finally, the pair faced outward and, faces drawn in concentration, made a wide motion with their hands and...

Music filled the tent. The heavy pulsing beat of a drum, the unearthly wailing of never-before-heard instruments assaulted the ears of the Amazons... suddenly, invisible singers began to harmonize, ''Shake it! Shake it! Shake your groove thing, shake your groove thing, yeah-yeah! Show 'em how we do it now, show 'em how we do it wow! Let's show the world we can dance...''

Aphrodite turned to a grinning Cupid in disgust. ''Aw, Kewpie! Disco? I said funky not frumpy!''

The pale blonde Cupid turned to his mother. ''Chill, mom! Haven't you ever heard of retro?''

Soon, all the Amazons, wedding guests and gods were doing the ancient Greek versions of the Bump, the Funky Chicken and the Strut, as the music continued to play. ''Groovy moves, or heart-to-heart, we put in motion every single part... Funky sounds, wall-to-wall, we're bumpin' booties, havin' us a ball, ya'll!''

Even Aphrodite began bobbing her head in time to the beat. ''Okay, Kewpie. But next time, I get to pick the music.''

Cupid smirked. ''Wait'll you get a load of K.C.,'' he said, eyes alight, ''Everybody's gonna get down tonight, shake their booties, and do the jungle boogie.''

Aphrodite sighed. Contemplating an evening composed entirely of disco classics wasn't exactly the goddess of love's idea of a rollickin' good time, but she was at least going to be graceful about it. ''Fine, fine, doll-honey. Just do me a favor... no Rick Dees or Carl Douglas, h'okay?''

''Right mom. Even I can stomach only so much 'Disco Duck' or 'Kung-Fu Fighting.'''

The party continued long into the night... Xena and Gabrielle eventually slipped away, determined to make up for semi-lost time... And the dark-haired warrior almost choked when a totally caco-faced Epinon wished the two women, ''Have a good night, dream rabbit. You too, bardie-poo!''

...the only reason Epinon survived was because Gabrielle had both arms wrapped around Xena's waist, heels dug and yelling, ''No, Xena! Not on the wedding night! Put down that chakram, dammit!...''

Hercules and Iolaus bawled in a corner, arms around one another. ''I love you, man!,'' they wailed in unison. When passing Amazons began eyeing them speculatively, the two heroes sprang apart and began flexing their muscles and swinging mock punches, saying things like, ''I like my women the way I like my ale... strong, full-bodied and sassy!'' and ''Whoo-hoo! Check out the ass on that one!''

One of the Amazons stuck out her tongue. ''Men!,'' she said to her companion, rolling her eyes.

And time, who had tripped over a passed-out rabbit in the swale, was seriously contemplating giving the whole millennia a miss, but in the spirit of the occasion, said in his deep voice, ''Party on, Xena!''

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