Part Seven -- The Verdant Unknown

Gabrielle snatched the wineskin out of Melanthe’s hands and squeezed a mouthful down her throat. She was working hard to keep her mood elevated. After she had left Xena standing in the middle of the road like yesterday’s garbage, she had the funny feeling that the wine had done most of the talking in that span of time. She stopped, feigning upset stomach to a wary Nysa. Gabrielle spent her first night shaking and moaning as her stomach refused anything remotely solid. When the morning came, she lunged for the offered wineskin snarling like a rabid beast. Nysa merely giggled as the small woman gulped down the wine for a solid half candle mark. Another squeeze filled her mouth with the sweetness she found herself craving more and more.

“You know, we need to induct Gabrielle into the mysteries. Let’s find a river,” Nysa’s hand crept along the bard’s back, “and get our new one wet.” Melanthe tugged on Gabrielle’s toga, raising the hem up the length of her leg. The bard giggled as she swallowed her mouthful and gave her friend a familiar pat on the rear. Nysa braced her arms around the pair, taking a gentle nip at the crook of Melanthe’s neck. The further they went into the woods, the less time they spent walking and the more time they spent pawing at each other.

“You hear that?” Nysa forced herself away from Gabrielle’s and Kepa’s locked embrace. She took a couple of shaky steps forward, grinning at the babbling sound of water nearby. “Let’s go, girls! We got someone to dunk!” The group collected itself, yanking the small woman to her feet and racing down a side trail. Melanthe and Kepa were racing ahead, practically dragging Gabrielle behind them. All of the women were laughing and gleefully shrieking as they broke through the woods and onto a river bank. The water was clear, flowing briskly over smooth rocks and plunging over a small waterfall.

“Well, little one, what are you waiting for? Strip to your smile and stand over there.” Nysa directed Gabrielle to a spot where the river was at its stillest point. The other two women had shucked off their togas and were making their way into the cool water. Gabrielle lifted the purple cloth over her head and tossed it in the pile. She dipped her toe into the crystal reflection. The cold scrambled up her legs and thrummed in her back. She looked over her shoulder to see Nysa, already naked and grinning, making a urging motion to her. The blonde eased her foot and ankle into the water. Her skin rose in waves of goose pimples as she set the other foot into the pool. Nysa stepped in confidently, then leaned close to Gabrielle who was shivering wildly.

“Think warm thoughts, my dear. Think about how good these warm hands are going to feel in a minute once you’re baptized.” Nysa let a finger trail along the underside of Gabrielle’s breast, cutting up and painfully close to the darkening areola. Nysa strode forward, never looking back as the water crept up her thighs. Gabrielle followed in behind, her shudders a mind-detaching blend of cold and excitement. She stood between Melanthe and Kepa. Melanthe gently pushed Gabrielle to her knees, one hand on the bard’s lightly tanned shoulders, the other holding a strip of black cloth. As Gabrielle went down, her eyes were caught by a silver flash of reflected sunlight. Kepa, who always struck her as being too tightly wound up, held a dagger in her hand. The blade was polished enough to show the sun, but there were ominous dark splotches where the blood grove had been hammered in.

Melanthe stepped behind Gabrielle and wound the black cloth around the green eyes. Gabrielle gasped once, then something sharp pressed itself into the soft flesh under her jaw. She stifled the second gasp, as well as her fear borne quake.

“There are four seasons to the year, four seasons to the span of life and four mysteries taught to us by Dionysus. There is only one penalty for divulging the secrets given to us by our god.” The blade pressed deeper into the skin “Gabrielle of Potidaea, will you follow the dictates of our god above all others?”

Gabrielle swallowed thickly. “I will.”

“Will you tell the uninitiated of the mysteries of our faith?”

“No.”

“Will you honor and cling to us, the Maenads, as your sisters and rebuke any other bonds of fidelity?”

“I will.” Her stomach craved some of the wine to dispel the cold fright stirring within.

“Will you let the voice of the wine choose your path from now until all is dust?”

“I will.”

The blindfold was unwound and the knife was withdrawn. Soft hands drew the woman up to her feet. Nysa placed her hands in Gabrielle’s. Her eyes searched her face, drinking in the beauty for a minute. “Kepa, fetch the wine, we have a new member to welcome. A fourth brings us to the sacred number. Four seasons, four mysteries, four women. This,” Nysa closed the gap between the pair and tasted Gabrielle’s lips, “is the spring mystery. Come.” Nysa guided Gabrielle back to the shore, where Kepa handed the wineskin to Nysa. She took a swig and stepped back from their newest member. Smiling, she upended the skin, pouring the rich deep red liquid all over her chest and legs. “Taste the greatest joy,” she said, opening her arms in invitation.

Gabrielle lunged at Nysa, with Kepa and Melanthe close behind. Their shouts, whispers and cries echo off of the trees as Apollo relentlessly drove his chariot across the sky.