"Well just let them poke their heads in here," offered Joxer belligerently, "Joxer the Mighty knows how to deal with Romans," he declared with a theatrical ferocity as he drew his sword and brandished it at an imaginary foe.
"Cut it out, Joxer" Iolaus told him impatiently, "you can barely deal cards let alone deal with Romans."
"Ah ha!" replied the sallow faced man, "that was the old Joxer! The new Joxer has a lust for the blood of those who threaten his friends," he said with a repeated flourish of his weapon.
"C'mon Joxer, I've see you fight," Iolaus told him, "If you had a fight with a chicken, I'd bet on the chicken to win."
"Have you been talking to Autolycus?" asked Joxer suspiciously, "No he wouldn't have said anything about that, would he?" he muttered as he put the sword back into the scabbard and sat down on the dirty floor brooding about chickens and how his brother Jet was doing in prison in Myramas. His stomach rumbled loudly, "You know we could do with a chicken here about now, or any kind of food for that matter."
"Any sign of the thief," asked Toris from where he was laying on a grubby blanket in the corner of the room.
Iolaus took another look out of the window and grimaced at the pouring rain that was keeping most sensible people off of the streets, "Not yet," he announced. "But he'll be back. Autolycus is the proverbial bad dinar, he always shows up."
It was frustrating being dependant upon the sardonic thief to turn up news, but since their dramatic exit from the inn two days previously, the four of them had spent their time dodging and hiding from patrols that were very evidently looking for them. Of the four, Autolycus was the best equipped for 'sneaking' around to gather information and some of the things that they were going to need. Iolaus could probably have helped him. He'd been a pretty fair thief in his younger days. But both he and Autolycus felt that neither Toris, nor Joxer, should be left alone. The first because he was too hot headed and ran headlong into things without thinking them through. The second because he didn't think at all! or at least not very often. So Iolaus was left to play nursemaid on the pair which left the King of Thieves free to do what he did best .. next to theft that was .. which was sneaking around where he didn't belong.
The trouble was, he'd been gone longer than expected. And, as much as the blonde hated to admit it, he was beginning to get worried about the thief. Autolycus tended to grate on his nerves, but he was a useful man to have around - If you can ignore all the egotism that goes with him! - he thought sourly.
He was just about to turn away from the window when a heavily cloaked figure attracted his attention as it slipped cautiously along the street towards the building where they were hidden. Autolycus, for Iolaus was certain that that is who it was, carried a large bundle that surprised the small blonde man and engaged his curiosity, "Now what in the world has he got there," he wondered aloud.
"Autolycus?" asked Joxer shifting quickly from gloom to expectation as Toris stood up and drew his sword, just in case the person who came through the door was not whom they were expecting.
Iolaus moved to the doorway that they had wedged shut with a small wooden shim. He listened for pre-arranged signal, "Knock .... knock, knock." before kicking the wedge out and dragging back the door that grated across the floor where the hinges had weakened.
Autolycus slipped in quickly, throwing off the black cloak that had protected him from the worst of the weather and hidden him from the notice of the patrols that were all over the city, while Iolaus heaved the door back into place and 'locked' it with the shim.
"That is no way to spend a morning," complained the thief as he shook his head to rid himself of some of the water that saturated him, despite the cloak.
"What did you find out?" asked Iolaus eager to hear any news.
"Did ya get anything to eat?" asked Joxer hopefully.
"What about Xena?" demanded Toris.
Autolycus bent and unpacked the bundle he'd been carrying, answering the questions as he did so, "Caesar and that special detail maniple of his, moved out with that covered wagon yesterday. They met up with the VIIth Legion outside the city and headed south on the road to Arelate." He threw Joxer a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese. "Xena and Gabrielle have to be in that wagon. There was nowhere else for them to be, and I don't think Caesar intends letting them far out of his sight anyway."
"Why south?" wondered Iolaus, "I know that he could get a ship for Rome at Massilia, but if he does that, what's the point of everything he's done so far?"
"Arelate is a staging city. He could continue on south-east from there and go to Massilia," Toris told them thinking hard, "Or he could take the north road and head for Lugdunum. I'm betting that he'll head that way."
"But why go south then?" repeated Iolaus puzzled, "If he was heading for Lugdunum it would have been quicker to cut north-east from here."
There was silence within the room, except for Joxer's contented munching, as the men tried to work out what was going on. Iolaus looked down at the other items in Autolycus's bundle, "What's all that for?" he questioned.
"Ah," smiled the thief, "It seems we have some added problems. Namely our descriptions are being circulated everywhere, and they are being linked to a very healthy reward. It seems that Caesar objects to anyone poking their noses into his business."
"Too bad!" snarled Toris.
"Yes well, that's as may be, but it causes us some problems because we are a rather identifiable group, or at least some of us are," Autolycus said with a pointed look at Joxer, "and we're going to have to do something about our appearances if we are going to have any hope of doing what we came here for."
"What are you all looking at me for?" demanded Joxer around a mouthful of cheese, "I'm not the only one they've got a description of."
"True," agreed the King of Thieves, "but you are the most noticeable. However, I have got disguises for each of us. Which I suggest we use, so that we can get out of this city and back on the trail of Xena and Gabrielle."
Xena and Gabrielle fared far better in the wagon than the soaked and cold Legionaries around it did. Conditions may have been cramped and uncomfortable, especially for Xena, but at least they were dry and, if not exactly warm, they weren't cold either.
The first day's travel had proven uneventful. Gabrielle had chatted about inconsequentialities, lulling Xena with the familiarity of her voice and the ordinary topics of conversation she chose, realizing that they had to avoid the subject of the letters and the men who had answered them.
At one point, Gabrielle surprised the Warrior Princess by reminding her of the name game they had been playing all those long days ago on the road to Menassos, "I think I've worked out your name," she said with a thoughtful grin, "He's someone you knew before you went to Chin. I know him and he's still alive."
"At the moment," Xena breathed sourly as her mouth twisted into a grimace of distaste.
"Ah, ha!" cried the bard jubilantly, drawing startled looks from the guards, "I must be right then. It's Caesar! Go on admit it!"
"Very well done," congratulated the Warrior with heavy sarcasm, "It's only taken you just over a moon to work it out."
"I know," smiled Gabrielle happily, "but I told you I'd get it."
"Indeed you did," agreed Xena mockingly as she tried to straighten her legs out a bit, the tight conditions of the cage cramped her muscles, and with her manacles locked to her belt, she couldn't reach to massage the aching joints.
The bard saw her friend's face give the barest twitch of discomfort as she shifted her position. Reaching through the bars, she gently massaged the calf muscles of Xena's legs, doing her best to relieve some of the Warrior Princess' suffering. It helped ... a little, but it was going to be very uncomfortable if she was forced to spend the whole time in the cage as she had for most of the trip up to Nemausus.
The evening camp was set up with the normal Roman precision and economy of effort, with the unusual addition of the wagon in the centre of the camp. The VIIth Legion had grown used to the presence of the wagon on their march up from Narbo, so it attracted far less attention than it had before, but Xena still caught the occasional murmur about treasure from voices at a distance.
With the fall of darkness, however, Flaccus appeared and hoisted himself aboard, unlocking Gabrielle's chain from the bar it had been attached to, as well as unfastening the door to the cage, "Both of you out," he told them curtly, much to their joint surprise.
Gabrielle's leg iron was collected by one of the six guards, while Xena was pulled out of her confinement and supported by two 'helpful' soldiers who took a firm grip on her arms to make sure she didn't pull any more of the stunts she'd employed that morning.
The pair were escorted from the wagon to a large tent, erected next to Caesar's command pavilion. Inside, a metal stake, topped by a ringbolt, had been driven into the ground. The free cuff of Gabrielle's leg iron, was passed through the ringbolt and fastened to Xena's left ankle in addition to the one she already wore.
The Warrior Princess scanned the inside of the tent and counted twelve guards in addition to the six who had escorted them in from the wagon. Her eyes flickered to the Centurion, "In case you're considering something foolish, you should know that there will be twenty-five men stationed around this tent as well as those in here. The Emperor, in his wisdom, is a merciful man, and he sees no reason for you to remain confined in the cage at night ... so long as you do not abuse his goodwill."
"If he's giving me room to stretch my legs," Xena told the bard in a low voice, "then it's because it suits his purpose to do so. It seems that he doesn't want me in a crippled condition, for now."
Gabrielle looked at Flaccus and asked, "When do we get something to eat? If you need someone to cook some food, I could always lend a hand."
Flaccus made a gesture and the guards tossed each of the women a blanket, "Very good of you I'm sure," replied the stiff necked Roman, although a smile almost cracked his military facade, "But I'm afraid the physician has related tales of your culinary expertise, and has advised you be kept away from any cooking in case the army comes down with an unfortunate case of flux."
"Big mouth," murmured the bard, although Xena wasn't sure if it was Patroclese she was talking about or herself.
"You'll get a hot meal just as soon as it's been prepared," assured Flaccus, before leaving the tent.
Xena and Gabrielle, spread out their blankets and sat down. Any chance of escape still seemed way off, but at least they were able to talk softly in some privacy with the guards scattered around the edge of the tent.
"You understood what I meant about Autolycus?" asked Xena softly.
"I guessed," the bard answered, "How did you get to see him?"
"He found a way into the airshaft. We only had a chance for a few words, and even that was enough to earn you a strapping." the warrior said with bitterness.
"Never mind, Xena. It was important to speak to Autolycus," she looked at the dark haired woman and said very quietly, "and getting me sent back to the tower early gave me the chance to glimpse Iolaus and Joxer out in the market."
"J ..." Xena almost blurted out before looking around hurriedly to make sure no one was taking any more notice than usual, and continuing, "Joxer? What in Hades is he doing here? You didn't send him one of your letters, did you?"
"Of course I didn't," came the bard's sharp reply, "But you know what he's like," she said in a far more hushed tone. "He's got more heart than brain and if he found out about this, I don't think anything could have stopped him from coming."
Xena nodded moodily, agreeing with the blonde's assessment, "Did you see anything of Toris," she asked barely moving her lips.
Gabrielle shook her head in a negative, "I don't know what any of them will be able to do while we're surrounded by a whole legion, anyway." she said disconsolately.
"They'll find a way to get you to safety," promised the Warrior Princess.
"What about you?" hissed the bard.
Xena's smile was chilly as she said, "Caesar won't find it so easy to keep hold of me, once he loses you."
"What if he decides that if he hasn't got me, that he'll kill you?" asked the bard as she stiffened the slight tremor in her voice.
"That's not going to happen," Xena told her confidently, "He wants to prove his dominance over me. I think I'm his challenge in life. He's tried to kill me before and failed, so I think he's going to try and find out what makes me tick."
"You can't be certain of that," muttered Gabrielle, worry evident in her face.
"Nothing's ever certain, Gabrielle," the Warrior Princess told her, "Ah, I think dinner is here," she said changing the subject as they were handed a chunk of brown bread each and a plate of stew.
The meal was normal army fare, not bad but far from something to tempt the jaded appetite. Luckily, both Xena and Gabrielle were too hungry to care. The bard had noted that her friend had lost an awful lot of weight during her captivity .. most of it due to the starvation and the fever she had contracted. The Warrior Princess was gradually putting back some of her lost body tone, but it was a slow process and would take time yet.
After they had eaten, Patroclese found his way into the tent along with his chess board. He and Xena played a game, while the Warrior Princess explained the pieces and their moves to the bard. It passed some time before they settled down to sleep.
The next day had brought the rain, but they had also made it to Arelate around about mid afternoon, although the dark, thunderous skies made it seem later. Here, Xena was again locked into an open cell, very similar to the one she had been in at Nemausus. Gabrielle had been taken somewhere else. The big difference here, was, that they had been taken to the Prefecture, which housed not only the Prefect.. Arelate's head of government .. but also the most secure dungeons.
It was early evening and Xena was dozing, when she was awakened by a stir in the guardroom. A squad of soldiers were forming up, and Flaccus was approaching the cell, key in hand. She swung herself off of the bench and waited to see what new development was occurring.
"You will come with me," he instructed motioning her to step out of the cell.
It was unusual, but perhaps Caesar was getting ready to play his game, although she hadn't expected anything to happen until they had travelled further to the north, as she was certain they would.
Surrounded by twenty guards, Xena was escorted out through the torch lit corridors she had come through that afternoon. She was aware from the changing decoration, within the building, that she was being taken into the main residency of the Prefect. Bare, damp walls of the cells beneath the ground were replaced by the drier walls of the servant's areas until she was passing elaborate hangings, costly furnishings and fine porcelains displayed to show the wealth and power of this petty bureaucrat.
A change of direction took them down some steps and through a door into a very unusual room. Xena quickly familiarised herself with her new surroundings, and began to get that feeling that charged the blood in her veins .. an expectation of trouble.
The 'room' was a twenty foot square with fifteen foot high walls that opened up to a surrounding gallery. She recognised it for what it was immediately. A fighting pit. She looked up with narrowed eyes searching for Caesar, she found him almost at once as he leaned on the rail to look down on her.
"Here's my slave, Lucullus," he told his companion, a fat, balding man who affected an ostentatious show of his wealth, sporting gold and jewels over his hands and around his neck.
Lucullus looked sharply at the shackles and the strong guard that had accompanied the slave into the pit, "It's a woman!" he almost laughed with incredulity, "You want to pit a woman against my champion gladiator, Benidor? Why I'd almost be ashamed to take your money." he chuckled, "Almost!"
"Would you care to double the wager," smiled Caesar politely, "say one hundred thousand dinars?"
Lucullus looked like a vulture about to feed, "You're sure that you can afford such stakes, Caesar. I had heard that you were running short of money."
"I can cover my bet, should my slave lose," Caesar told him grimly, "But there is just one condition to the match."
Lucullus looked at the great Caesar with a smugness a rich man feels when he looks at someone in need of funds. He knew that Caesar's personal treasury was almost empty. It took a lot of money to buy and maintain power in Rome and Caesar had been said to have been spending lavishly on some private project. If Lucullus played his cards right, the mighty Caesar, Emperor of Rome, might just wind up in his pocket. "Are you saying you wish to back out. Are the stakes to rich for you after all?"
Caesar used all his diplomatic skill at dissemblance to deny the sleight made upon him and explained, "The bet has been made the stakes pledged, my condition is that there should be no weapons involved in this contest."
"If you're hoping to preserve the woman's life," laughed Lucullus in amusement, "you should know that Benidor is the area's bare knuckle champion and he has killed six men in unarmed fights, here in this very pit."
"Never the less, I want no weapon to fall into my slave's hands," Caesar insisted.
Lucullus took a longer look at the woman below him. He had taken the strong guard as a token of gamesmanship, but he now noted the heavy chains and the way that the soldiers watched the woman's every movement. She stood relaxed, her eyes rivetted on her 'master'.
Beads of perspiration appeared on Lucullus's brow as he considered what the loss of 100,000 dinars would do to his finances. He was a rich man, it was true. But such a huge sum would take him years to recover. Caesar looked at him with calm assurance as if reading his mind, "I think you're bluffing," Lucullus told him at last. He couldn't afford to show weakness here, "A bare handed fight is agreed for the stake proposed."
It was at that point the woman spoke. Her voice carried the whisper of ice and her tone, death, "You are assuming that I'll play your game, Caesar!" she said.
This was not how a slave talked to her master. Lucullus shot a puzzled look at his powerful guest and was surprised to see him smile. It was a grim smile, but it showed none of the wrath that Lucullus would have been ready to inflict on his own slaves if they'd had the audacity to speak to him in that way.
"You'll play the game, Xena," he told her with a superior certainty. "You see, should you lose, I'll give Benidor your friend, Gabrielle, as a prize."
- If looks could kill, - thought Lucullus as he observed the by-play between the two.
"Oh, yes," continued Caesar, "just in case you decided that this was your chance to kill me," he made a gesture and the Warrior Princess saw the bard brought forward to the rail, with a soldier holding a knife to her throat," I brought Gabrielle here to watch the contest. The first false move from you and she'll have her throat cut."
"Is the woman that dangerous?" asked Lucullus almost in awe, trying to remember where he had heard mention of that name before.
"You have no idea," said Caesar almost too softly to be heard. "One last thing, Xena," he said, "Don't give the guards any trouble when the fight ends. It will only be Gabrielle who suffers, you know." He gave a nod to Flaccus, who unlocked the manacles at her wrists and removed the belt from her waist, before releasing her from the leg irons.
Lucullus watched her like he would watch a snake and for all his seeming ease, Caesar did much the same, his hand glued to the hilt of his sword as if in instant readiness to draw it. Xena stood calmly massaging her wrists, barely registering the exit of her guards while she awaited the entrance of her opponent from a door opposite.
Benidor was a hulking brute of a professional gladiator. He stood over six foot six in height, with a wide spread of shoulders that supported thick rippling muscle. His face and body bore the scars of past fights and his nose showed signs of having been broken at least twice.
Xena made eye contact with him and saw animal cunning and meanness there, but little in the way of intelligence. The trick was going to be to defeat him without getting close enough for him to pound her senseless. She started to move around him, slowly, exhibiting the smooth, fluid, grace that took control in dangerous situations.
The gladiator threw a meaty fist at her, but she danced lightly out of the way, never losing eye contact with the brute. She read the coming lunge in his eyes and was ready for it, meeting him with a sharp heeled kick to his gut, that made him draw a deep breath and the crashing, backhand, left fist that smashed into his jaw almost rocked him.
He shook his head, a look of respect crept into his eyes as he tried to plan his attack. The easy victory he had envisioned would not be forthcoming. The woman was strong and had skill. His mind registered the faint smile that played across her face. She was enjoying herself.
Gabrielle watched in fascination as Xena sparred with the giant, looking for openings to exploit. The Warrior Princess's fighting skills never ceased to exhilarate her. She was so good at what she did that you could lose yourself in the beauty and grace of the movements as she seemed to dance through the danger.
Benidor feinted with his right fist, but whipped a sizzling left hook across that would have probably decapitated Xena if it had connected fully. As it was, the punch threw her off balance as she rode it, which was enough for the gladiator to wade in and start pounding her body with heavy blows. His fists were like sledge hammers as they thudded into her rib cage. Ignoring the punishment as best she could, she clapped her hands together, with all the force she could muster, on either side of his head.
"Arrhhhh!" screamed Benidor, as his eardrums ruptured with excruciating pain. Blood trickled down his lobes as he shook his head to try and clear it. But Xena followed up with a high, leaping kick to the big man's face. It should have been enough to poleaxe a steer, but the man remained standing and his eyes showed the blood lust of a maddened beast.
Xena stood before him, and beckoned him on, "C'mon," she encouraged, "Come and get me."
As Benidor rushed at her, arms flung wide to grasp her into a crushing bear hug, Xena executed a high, forward, flip, that carried her over the hulking brute and safely behind him. As she landed, she turned quickly and planted a solid kick at the base of his spine, adding to his momentum, to send him crashing into the wall of the pit.
He stood as if pinned to the stone for a moment, before he carefully pushed himself away from the wall, and turned to face his tormentor, shaking his head groggily as he did so. Xena noted in a detached part of her mind, that the collision with the wall had broken his nose again.
Moving far faster than she expected, Benidor lunged out and grabbed her right arm, pulling her closer to him where he delivered a knee to her stomach that folded her up. Drawing back his left fist, he drove it into her face sending her tumbling to the ground. The giant threw himself down on top of his opponent, only to find that Xena had twisted, lightning quick, out of his grasp.
As Benidor tried to scramble to his feet, Xena aimed a heavy punch just behind his right ear that saw him collapse bonelessly to the ground. Breathing deeply, Xena stood above the fallen man and shot a venom filled glare at Caesar.
"Very good, Xena," congratulated Caesar contentedly. "Very well fought."
The Warrior Princess glanced to where the soldier held a dagger to the bard's throat. If he had given her just half a chance, then she would have taken it, but with Gabrielle's life being so visibly threatened, she couldn't afford to venture the risk. She forced herself to relax as Flaccus re-entered the pit and fastened the belt back around her waist, wincing a little from the bruising her ribs had taken again. She held up her wrists for him to lock the manacles in place and stood patiently while the leg irons were replaced, never once taking her eyes from Caesar's.
"Take her back to her cell," he ordered, with a satisfied smile, "Patroclese will be along to check on her injuries."
