Escape still seemed an impossible dream. The guards remained as vigilant as ever, perhaps even more so since she had regained her full physical strength. She snapped the chains at her wrists irritably, making them crack like a whip as she strained at them. Caesar hadn't lied about the strength of her bonds either; they were far tougher than the run of the mill shackles that were normally used. The noise the chains made drew instant alertness from all around her cell. No one took anything she did for granted. - It's like being the prize attraction at a menagerie! - she thought sourly as she turned her back on them.

She sat down on her stone bench, now boasting only the two original blankets. "Pillows are not for slaves," she had been told when they were removed by Flaccus and his men. She couldn't have cared less! She was far more used to the hardness of the ground, anyway, so the stone bench served her quite well enough.

Sitting brooding over the prospect of escape, she considered what she knew of her location and surroundings. She was aware of the total environment of her prison with intimate detail. A twelve foot square room, with two solid stone walls, two heavily barred walls and a stone ceiling with a thick ringbolt set into it next to a, barely, head sized, barred, air vent that, maybe a rat could wriggle through.

Beyond her cell she knew only of what she could see and what Gabrielle had told her before being removed from the cell. The guardroom with its watchful occupants, the standard cells where the bard had been kept and, an uncertain description of the corridors beyond the dungeon door. That was it. She'd never been to Nemausus before. She had been unconscious when she had been brought to the cell. She had no idea of the layout of the garrison, or the city streets, or just how many soldiers were around that she might have to fight her way clear of. No matter how she attacked the problem, what angle she considered, what plans she made and discarded, everything came unstuck on one problem. Gabrielle!

The bard was brought into the guardroom for a quarter candlemark visit each day, but was not allowed within the cell. All that Xena knew of where she was held, was that it was a tower room. An added frustration to everything else. The chains snapped again as she strained against them without effect.

Sighing, she glanced at her one real luxury and very minor consolation. Patroclese had started visiting her for a candlemark or two each day, and he had brought with him a lightly constructed travelling stool, .. so flimsy it had no value as a weapon .. upon which he had set a board and some carved figures, "Chess," he had answered to her question about what it was, "It's a game that you should be good at, Xena. It's really a kind of battle board where you use strategy and cunning to defeat your opponent."

He had patiently taught her the movements of the pieces and she had quickly grasped the concept behind the game. As Patroclese had predicted she learnt swiftly and was soon displaying a natural ability that the healer found himself hard pressed to match.

As she studied the game in progress, Xena thought, not for the first time, - It's more closely akin to directing a campaign, rather than just a mere battle. - It suited her competitive nature and gave her something to think about other than her present situation .. which was probably the healer's aim.

She stifled a sigh, realizing it would be some candlemarks before Patroclese showed up for his daily visit. Although she still harboured a resentment for his part in causing her problems, she had grown to appreciate his company. She had never felt a great need for talking in her life. But being around Gabrielle had accustomed her to being spoken to. It was something she missed.

She lay on the bench and closed her eyes and ears to the racket from the soldiers around her. If she couldn't escape physically, there was nothing to keep her within the cell mentally. She allowed her imagination to take her far away, to the fields and woods of home which she had haunted with her younger brother Lyceus.

Lacking a father's presence, and with their mother fully occupied in running the family business, the two youngest children of the family had led a wild idyllic existence as they romped and played, hunted rabbits and spent candlemarks fishing without the constricting influence of adults. It was the happiest time of her life, when innocence was in full flower and nothing evil had slithered into the darkened corners of her mind. Life was full and fresh, with new things to learn, new places to see, and all with a child's curiosity that gave zest to each new experience. Now, the memories were a sweet escape and a form or pure torture for her.

With a startling jolt, her awareness was suddenly pulled back to her current reality. Retaining the outward appearance of total relaxation, she allowed her senses to seek for the 'something' that had warned her of a change in the environment around her in some way. She turned her head to study the soldiers within the guard room. Nothing seemed to be out of place. The currently appointed six attendant watchdogs were keeping their usual vigilant observation of her. The men beyond were occupied with their normal practices; some diced, others mended kit, some took the chance to write letters while others worked nicks out of their sword with whetstones.

She flicked her eyes to where Gaius Blasius sat. He was one of the junior officers and it was his turn to command the guard detail during the present watch. He was a big thickset young man, with a permanently dark shadow around his chin .. no matter how often he shaved .. and a mean look in his eye. He was a bully, both with the men and with Xena.

She'd had several confrontations with him since she'd been back on her feet, although nothing major had come of them with the Warrior Princess having to keep a firm clamp on her temper. Xena knew that he was looking for an opportunity to prove his power over her. He was the kind of man who liked to push around people whom he thought couldn't push back. At the moment he was fully occupied in dressing down some hapless soldier who had gotten on his wrong side.

Nothing unusual there, then, to have disturbed the delicate hair trigger on her senses. Yet something was different. She could feel someone other than the six guards watching her, and if the feeling wasn't coming from the soldiers, then there was only one other location for an observer to be hidden ... the air vent!

Her eyes sharpened to narrow slits as they swivelled in the direction of the vent and sought to penetrate the darkness within. She hadn't been mistaken! Above her, looking out from the small, barred, hole was a face she recognised.

Moving slowly, as if stretching tight muscles, she brushed a finger across her lips to command silence. The head nodded it's agreement leaving it to Xena to work on a way to allow communication between them. The Warrior Princess thought quickly. She was going to have to get up to that air vent if she wanted to exchange words with her visitor. The guards were going to see her do it, no matter how she went about it. Her only option was to take them by surprise, and ignore them as long as possible. The conversation would have to be quick, but it was the best she could do. She just hoped that the repercussions wouldn't be too severe.

Getting to her feet, she stretched .. as far as she was able to .. theatrically, and within the blink of an eye, she had launched herself upwards to catch the ceiling ringbolt, "Autolycus?" she whispered, as she swung on the ring. If she could make it look like a form of exercise it might gain her time.

"Sir!" yelled out one of the guards, "You better look at this," she heard him say.

"Fancy finding you here," grinned the thief impudently, "More to the point, how do we get you out of here?"

"You don't!" she whispered back at him. "Find Gabrielle and get her away. I'll find a way of getting myself loose as soon as I know she's safe."

"What's going on?" demanded Blasius' deep voice.

"She's here?" asked Autolycus softly, relief evident in his voice, "We hadn't been able to find any trace of her." He thought quickly, "Do you know where she is."

"A tower room, somewhere in the building," she hissed back as she watched Blasius heading for the cell door.

Hey!" shouted Blasius at her, "What do you think you're doing? Get down from there now!"

"What about you?" asked the thief, concerned about the situation he saw developing.

"Just get Gabrielle out and I'll be fine." she told him softly, barely moving her lips, as she watched the progress of the guards. The key was being fitted into the lock and it looked like a good ten men were going to enter the cell.

"Liar," Autolycus told her, "but we'll do what we can. Try not to upset everyone."

"Who me?" she returned mockingly, "As if!"

"You .. slave!" shouted Blasius, fury evident in his every move, "Get down here, now!"

Xena did a couple of extra long swings on the ring, before using the trailing chain to climb down in a neat display of the skills she had learned in her piratical past. She came to rest gently on the floor of the cell in front of Blasius and assumed an attitude of insolent relaxation to make sure she kept his full attention on her while Autolycus moved silently out of sight.

"What do you think you were doing?" he demanded with angry suspicion, his eyes looking up to the ring and sliding over the air vent with a dismissive flick.

Xena looked at him, her eyes mocking. She arched an eyebrow at him and replied with flippant sarcasm, "I was getting ready to escape through the hole up there."

With absolutely no warning, Blasius hit her powerfully across the jaw with a balled fist, cracking her head to one side with the force of the blow. He seemed a little shocked that it hadn't felled her, but he ground out, "Slaves are not permitted to speak to Romans in that manner!" She slowly turned her head back until she was able to look him full in the face. She didn't move or speak, but the junior officer took a hurried step away from her as her eyes seemed to promise imminent death. "We'll see what the Centurion has to say about this," he told her, trying to regain the upper hand in the situation, but unwilling to make eye contact with her again.

He made a signal and four of the soldiers, outside of the cell, began hauling in on the chain until, with her arms hoisted above her head and her toes barely touching the floor, they were satisfied that she could cause no harm. Blasius looked at her smugly, and snarled, "Hang around for a while, 'til the Centurion gets back. I'm sure he'll be interested to hear all about this."

The guards left the cell and Xena looked up critically at her wrists. She could probably alleviate some of the pressure by climbing up the chain again, but she knew that would just stir more trouble. Hanging there was uncomfortable, but she could bear it, while necessary.

Time would reveal what repercussions would emanate from her little chat with Autolycus. If she was lucky, nothing would come of it. If Caesar felt she needed a lesson, then she knew it would be Gabrielle who suffered. The thought hurt! But if Autolycus and the others - He said we! - she thought wondering just who else was with him, were able to get Gabrielle away, then it might have been worth the risk.

It was some candlemarks before Flaccus returned from wherever he had been. Blasius descended upon him almost as soon as he had been admitted through the dungeon door. Flaccus threw a look in the direction of her cell, and marched, his way across the guardroom.

- The man doesn't know any other way to move! - thought Xena irritably. Her wrists were chaffing with painful weals cut into the flesh and her hands felt alternately numb and afire with vicious needles being stuck into them.

The cell door swung open to admit the Centurion and his junior officer, along with four baton wielding guardsmen. Flaccus stood directly before her and looked her up and down, much as he would inspect a body of troops on parade, "What did you think you were doing?" he demanded.

Xena had considered what her answer should be. She had been flippant with Blasius, because the man's bully boy attitude irritated her and she despised him. Flaccus was a different kettle of fish altogether. He was a hard taskmaster, true. But he was generally fair and administered punishment only where he judged it to be warranted.

"She looked at him levelly and gave him an answer, "I was taking some exercise," she explained. "You know a warrior's body needs to be conditioned to remain at it's peak."

"You are slave," he pointed out, "as such you have no right to do anything other than what you are ordered to do, that includes taking exercise, if that was indeed what you were doing."

He looked at the ringbolt above them and then looked intently at the air vent. He knew full well that his prisoner could not escape through such a small space, but could she have been communicating with someone. There were rumours of men asking questions within the city. It was one of the things he had been summoned to discuss with the Emperor. - The question is, could one have found a way to use the air vent to talk to the woman? -

He turned his attention back the Warrior Princess, "You disobeyed an order, slave. You know the punishment for that." He looked at her jaw where the evidence of Blasius's fist was beginning to show in a purpling patch of skin, "It seems, however, that you have already received some punishment.." He turned the full force of his, not inconsiderable, gaze upon Blasius in silent reprimand. The junior office's arrogant stance wilted before his superior's look.

Flaccus turned his focus back to her considering for a moment, "However, there are rules, and you will learn to heed them. When is the bard due for her next visit?" he snapped at Blasius.

"She should be here any time, sir," answered the junior officer promptly. Eager to regain his commander's favour.

"When she gets here she's to receive three strokes as punishment for this slave's failure to respond to an order. Then she is to be taken right back to her own cell. There will be no communication between them today," he said allowing his glance to stray back to the vent. Then Flaccus pronounced. "Keep her close hauled," he said pointing to Xena with his thumb, "You can relax the restraint after the bard has been strapped and removed."

He looked hard at Xena who returned his gaze with cold silence, "Do you have anything to say?" he questioned flatly, then added when she failed to respond, "A wise decision."

He marched from the cell, trailing his men in his wake. Xena boiled with impotent anger, and just hoped that Gabrielle would understand, eventually, what had happened to cause the beating she was going to receive. - Autolycus, - she offered up silently, - I just hope you can get her out of here soon. -

When Gabrielle arrived, surrounded by her own little coterie of guardian watch dogs, Flaccus informed her that she was to be punished for Xena's misdemeanour. The bard nodded stoicly. She sometimes wondered just how Xena had managed to keep a lid on her explosive temperament. The iron will of her partner sometimes amazed even her! Gabrielle was also intelligent. She knew that whatever Xena had done, it would not have been for a trifling reason. The bard was well aware that her friend would go to great lengths to keep her from harm .. even if it meant that she suffered herself.

She had been brought over to the cell bars and had been instructed to take a firm grip on them. Which she did, although she was far more concerned to see Xena hauled up off of her feet. By the look of the colour of her hands, she'd been like that for some candlemarks. "In punishment for the slave, Xena, failing to obey an order," Flaccus intoned, "the slave, Gabrielle, will receive three strokes of the strap."

The strap was a wide leather belt that would inflict maximum pain, without unduly damaging the flesh of the victim, and could be administered without removing the clothes. A young soldier had been given the task of delivering the punishment .. a task that Blasius would have obviously have liked to have been given. The soldier wasn't light handed, but he didn't swing the strap in the brutal way that Blasius would have done.

As the first blow landed, Gabrielle drew a sharp intake of breath and expelled it quickly with a pained grunt.

"I'm sorry," mouthed Xena to her.

The bard shook her head, as if to say, it was alright, she'd be fine. The second blow fell causing her to gasp and her eyes blinked back the tears that were forming behind them.

Xena locked her eyes on her friend, trying to will some of her own fortitude into the bard, remembering all too well the agony of the whipping she had endured. With Gabrielle looking directly at her, she mouthed the name, "Autolycus."

Looking at Xena in astonished surprise, the bard failed to tense for the third and final stroke and so, with her body more relaxed, rode the blow a little better, although she still gave a cry of pain, as much through shock as anything. She was given no time to speak, as the guards instantly hurried her from the dungeon.

Xena watched her go and hoped that the bard had understood the meaning she was trying to convey. She thought it likely, but it was impossible to tell for sure. With luck, Gabrielle would be alert for any sign that the King of Thieves .. and whichever companions he had to help him .. was looking to rescue her.

Lost in her thoughts, Xena had failed to register the guard as he moved to release the restraining chain. Yet she instinctively dropped lightly back to the cell floor, where she slowly, began to massage some feeling back into her hands.

Returned to her tower, Gabrielle brooded in her confinement. The three strokes she had been given had been painful, and prevented her from being comfortable sitting down, but they hadn't been as bad as she had expected. After seeing the mess that had been made of Xena's back, her imagination had created an expectation of far greater pain than the reality produced. In an obscure kind of way, it was a relief to feel the actuality of the strap.

As for her importance to Caesar, she had few illusions about that. He cared little or nothing about her, personally; she was merely the instrument to ensure Xena's total compliance with his wishes. Without the Warrior Princess, Caesar would have no use for a bard from Potidaea!

She wandered around her, comparatively, comfortable 'room'. She had a reasonably good bed, a small desk for her writing materials, a chair and even some reading scrolls, courtesy of Patroclese, who continued to visit her each day, for a short while, before her guards turned up to escort her for her daily visit with Xena.

The journey to the dungeon was quite a long one. Caesar had taken pains to see her lodged as far as possible from the Warrior Princess. The entire length of the garrison complex had to be traversed before reaching the dungeons where Xena was kept under close guard.

Her visits to the prison never lasted long .. usually just time enough to allow the Warrior Princess to see that the bard remained unharmed .. so long as both parties obeyed the rules and behaved themselves. There was little time for much talk, and what they did manage was closely monitored. Everything had been designed to limit their opportunity to conspire in the slim possibility of an escape attempt.

She felt frustrated, used and helpless. She was angry at her treatment and furious over the treatment of her friend .. although she had been pleased to note over the past few days, that Xena was displaying growing signs of health and vitality. She knew that with the Warrior Princess at her physical peak, they stood a far greater chance of extricating themselves from their predicament.

Sighing she sank onto her bed, only to rise again with a sharp, "Ow!" as she was reminded of the reason for her early return to her cell, that last stroke had descended squarely over her buttocks. Unable to settle, she wandered over to the only window in her accommodation. It was a good sized opening that let in plenty of light, but had been recently equipped with a thickly barred grill that prevented any possible chance of escape.

- Even without those bars, I'd never be able to get out of here on my own, - she thought as she looked out at one of the city's main market squares, some distance below her. The thought of climbing out the window in an escape attempt made her shiver with fear, - Coward! - she accused herself, but knew that didn't make her any less afraid of heights.

As she had frequently come to do, she lost her thoughts in the milling masses that haunted the market square. She liked to pass the time by imagining herself free to wander around the stalls to look at the goods, and maybe haggle with a seller over the price of a scarf, - Or a new frying pan, - she smiled to herself, - if Xena's managed to bust one up in some fight! -

Something familiar attracted her attention, she wasn't quite sure what it had been .. the way someone walked, the set to a pair of shoulders, a hat, maybe, or .. - That was it! A warriors helmet ... well at least a helmet! - she knew that the man under it was far from any real warrior she'd ever met!

Her eyes searched frantically, trying to find that unique piece of headgear once again. She went rigid when she spotted it and willed the face under it to look up and see her, so she could make certain of what she so desperately wanted to see, - Gods! I must be going stir crazy to be desperate to see him! - she thought.

For a fraction of a heartbeat, the crowd seemed to open up, and not only Joxer, but Iolaus also, looked up at her. Their eyes made contact with hers and she felt a warm glow as smiles of delight lit their faces, dazzling her in the emotion of the moment. Friendly faces become a resource to treasure when you are surrounded by enemies and strangers. She waved extravagantly to them and saw Joxer start to raise his hand in reply, before Iolaus knocked it down and gestured with his jaw at the walls of the garrison, - Soldiers on duty! - was Gabrielle's immediate thought.

Her attention was drawn away by a commotion as a squad of Legionaries bulled their way through the crowd towards the spot where Iolaus and Joxer had been standing. Gabrielle swung a worried look back to where she had last seen her friends, but the swell of the crowds had swallowed them, and the pair were no longer to be seen.

Turning away from the window, the bard felt a lightness of heart that she had almost forgotten could exist. She didn't know how Joxer had come to be there with Iolaus, but at least she now knew for sure that they had friends close-by. The fact that Xena had mouthed Autolycus' name said clearly she had at least seen him .. how, she had no idea .. and if she knew their friends at all, they would be working on some way to free both her and Xena from Caesar's captivity.