Lucullus looked down on his unmoving gladiator. No one had ever come close to doing that to Benidor before. Of course the man had taken punishment in his career, but he had never been even close to losing. The Prefect licked his lips. The woman, Xena, could be the mightiest gladiator the Roman world had ever seen. With the right management, she would make her owner a fortune.

"Caesar," he said, the light of avarice shining in his eyes. "How much would it cost me to buy her from you?" "Lucullus," the Roman noble replied with a hint of amusement in his voice, "you don't have enough money. In fact I don't think there's enough gold in the world to make me sell her."

"Five hundred thousand dinars," said the prelate quickly, "No, one million!" he amended as he saw the rejection in Caesar's eyes.

"Apart from the fact that I don't think you have that amount," Caesar told him, "I would not trust that woman in anyone's hands but my own. You asked earlier if she was dangerous? Well, let me just say that those guards were not there for show. Even chained and collared as she is, she is no one's slave ... yet. But she will be bent to my use, one way or another."

"Xena, that's her name, isn't it?" mused Lucullus, the name tickling a distant memory, he watched as three slaves entered the pit to carry Benidor away to the infirmary. News of something in Rome seemed to be connected to the woman's name, "Isn't she the woman who tried to assassinate you?" he asked suddenly, remembering hearing about the event some months previously.

Caesar looked at him, his brown eyes burning with intensity, his features set in a darkly fiendish smile that was never meant to touch his eyes, "The very one," he agreed with a casualness that belied the savageness of the look, "and there is no way I will ever release her ... alive! So, my friend, you'll just have to content yourself with paying me the money you lost in our wager, and with the knowledge that you saw her first fight as a gladiator." He took the fat little prefect's arm and steered him away from the gallery rail and back towards the main apartments where a feast awaited them.

"So this wasn't just an isolated contest? You intend to fight her in public?" asked Lucullus with growing interest.

"In time," Caesar told him, pleasantly, "all in good time."

Patroclese arrived in the dungeons some minutes after Xena had been returned to her cell. It was not greatly different from the one in Nemausus .. a little smaller maybe, and the rest of the smaller cells fronted onto the main guardroom, but the cage cell that housed Xena, seemed remarkably similar.

He found her sitting on a wooden bench, that was securely fastened to the wall. The fingers of her left hand were lightly pressed to her jaw, which she worked back and forth with a show of mild discomfort. As she looked up at him, he noted with professional objectivity the added bruises on her right cheek and jaw, which made a muffled clicking sound as she continued to work it. She was sitting hunched over, suggesting her ribs had taken punishment again, and her knuckles were a little grazed.

She looked at him levelly when she noticed his critical survey of her and told him blandly, "You should see the other guy."

Patroclese shook his head. He'd come to appreciate Xena's dry sense of humour, even on those occasions when she directed it at him. He recognised that she used it like a shield to deflect the intense emotions that she was not comfortable with .. not the anger, hate and rage that were part of her make up, but the softer emotions of caring, comforting and, of course, love.

"All right, what's the damage this time?" he asked knowing it would be quicker for her to tell him, then for him to find out by examining her.

"Nothing serious," she told him dismissively. "Some bruises around the ribcage and face, a slight dislocation on the jaw, and some scraped knuckles."

"Pull your shirt up," he ordered without thinking.

Xena lifted her hands as far as they would go and then shrugged at him, "If you took these off it would be easier," she told the healer neutrally.

"Don't you ever give up?" he asked as he motioned her to stand, so he could tug the shirt free from the belt, and lift it high enough to take a critical look at the skin that was beginning to show the mottled purple of bruising.

"No," answered Xena intently, "Not ever."

Patroclese suppressed a shudder. There was an obdurate determination in the woman that was an unstoppable force, much like an avalanche, nothing could stand in its way ... and if someone should be foolish enough to do so, the end would likely be very similar. "Hold still while I fetch the liniment, it'll take the worst of the sting and stiffness out of those bruises around your ribs and face. Then I'll bathe those knuckles. We don't want any more infections, do we?" the healer said sympathetically.

Xena watched Patroclese as he ministered to her hurts with a professional thoroughness. He was a talented physician who showed care and consideration for those he treated. Even her! In some ways, especially her. Yet he had sent her into a trap and tricked Gabrielle into falling into another. She gave him a frankly considering look, before asking him, "Why do you follow Caesar?"

"I thought I'd told you," he answered as he dabbed the cold liquid onto the required area.

"No," she said slowly, "I don't believe you have."

Patroclese sighed as he stopped what he was doing to look her full in the eyes, "It must have been Gabrielle I told ... while we were on the ship" he admitted.

"Well," she prompted gently, as he continued his work with the liniment.

"My family have been in the service of the family of Caesar for generations. Lord Caesar saw that I had some talent for healing and ensured that I was trained by the best of the Roman physicians. He has always treated me and my family well. He has always been a good master to serve." He said it as if he was reeling of something he had rehearsed a dozen times.

There was a look of doubt flickering somewhere in the back of his eyes. Xena saw it and allowed the silence to draw out as she waited for Patroclese to continue. Instinct told her that if she said anything now, he would clam up and become defensive of both his master and himself.

The, almost, accusatory silence eventually forced the healer to continue his thoughts, "When I was asked to go to Greece to find you and bait my Lord's trap, I asked about you to find out what kind of woman you were," he saw the grim look in her eyes and guessed her thoughts, "No, I didn't ask Lord Caesar, it wouldn't have been right, he would have thought I was doubting him. But everyone I did ask told of a woman warrior warlord who had sacked and despoiled countless nations. You were the 'Destroyer of Nations' so I was told. I also knew of your attempt on Caesar's life ..."

Xena cut off a sharp angry laugh as she said, "Believe me, Patroclese, If I'd wanted him dead at that time, he'd be dead."

The healer bobbed his head in a nod to acknowledge the validity of the statement, he knew it wasn't an idle boast, "Anyway, from all I'd heard, I was proud that my Lord had entrusted me with such a dangerous, important task. You sounded like someone that the world would be far better off without."

Xena made a non-committal grunt. That she in some part agreed with him was not something that would be appropriate to admit at this time. Her regrets for the suffering and destruction that she had caused in her past were hers to bear alone. She could not share them with anyone, not even with Gabrielle, fully, "But?" she prompted gently.

"But you have proven to be nothing ..." he gave her a considering look, remembering the report he'd heard on her capture, and having seen the trouble she had wrought in Nemausus, chained as she was, "or shall we say, very little like those descriptions I had of you."

She looked at him with her steady blue gaze. It felt to Patroclese as if she were boring into his soul, "The evil is a part of me," she said simply, "It's a part of everyone, some more than others. Some, like Gabrielle, barely know it's there. There was a time when evil was the only thing that filled me. I was able to change that. I am not the woman I was, I am not the person that I will become. We all change a little everyday. The choices we make, the deeds we perform, they all make their marks upon our souls and change us for the better ... or the worse."

"Are you saying that by serving my Lord I have committed an act of evil?" demanded Patroclese defensively.

Xena's features were a study of seriousness as she replied, "No ... Only you can say and know that, Patroclese. You are the guardian of your own soul."

Silence descended between them once again, as the healer finished his ministrations. Once completed, he helped Xena pull the shirt back under the belt, before packing his things up and leaving the cell. She'd given him a lot to think about. He was torn between his duty to his master and what he saw as an unjust action on his part.

Xena watched him go with mixed emotions. She liked Patroclese. Even with all he had done. She could feel the goodness within him and begrudged Caesar his loyalty. The Roman noble was unworthy of it. She needed an ally in the enemy camp and turning Patroclese to her side would give it to her. But she regretted the turmoil and heartache it would bring to the healer. Yet she would do whatever she had to, in order to save Gabrielle ... and maybe herself.

It was raining steadily as it had done throughout the ride down to Arelate from Nemausus. Joxer fussed with his clothing, "Why did I have to wear this?" he complained yet again, as he walked along with Autolycus, who had hunched over to hide his true height and shape, as well as keeping his face pretty well hidden by the hood of his cloak.

The thief slapped at his companion's hand as Joxer fidgeted with the unaccustomed shapes on the front of his chest. A passing pair of soldiers looked at them as they sauntered off for an evening in a local tavern and Autolycus told Joxer quite loudly, but in a voice very different from his usual arrogant sarcasm, "Because that skirt and blouse suits you my dearest."

"Ya think so?" asked Joxer slightly mollified as he twitched the manufactured breasts back into place.

"No!" hissed the thief in his usual tones as he led his 'wife' down the street well away from the Roman legionaries, "And if you don't stop pulling that disguise about we're going to be in big trouble."

"Well I never wanted to play the woman in the first place," grumbled the sallow faced man, "Why couldn't you have been the woman. Yeah," he said allowing his imagination to run away with him, "you could have been a warrior's woman. In a town like this that would have worked well," he declared.

Autolycus pulled his 'woman' into a doorway as three more Romans wandered down the street. They all looked at the pair in the shadows, but they cheered lewdly and offered coarse suggestions when the thief threw a hand around Joxer's waist and began to fondle his behind. The other hand went behind his partners neck as he acted out a long and passionate kiss.

As the legionaries continued on their way, laughing, Autolycus released his holds and wiped his hand roughly over his face as Joxer spluttered before demanding, "What did ya do that for?" spitting theatrically and pulling a sour face. Then, not waiting for an answer, "No don't tell me it was necessary for the disguise."

"You got that right at least, and" he continued not letting Joxer get another word in, "in answer to your other question, you're the woman because I've got a beard and a moustache."

"I know women who've got moustaches," responded Joxer quickly, "and beards too for that matter."

"I just bet you do!" answered the thief with heavy sarcasm, taking a peep around outside the alley to make sure the coast was clear. "Now come on. Iolaus and Toris will be expecting us."

They hurried quickly through the rain drenched streets as they made their way towards the west end of the city. They found the other two back at the tavern they had arranged to meet in. Toris looked unhappy in the farmer's smock and peasant cap that Autolycus had procured for him, while Iolaus looked daggers at the thief, while he sat uncomfortably in his own female attire.

- Well there's no pleasing everybody, - thought the King of Thieves with a wicked smile, - At least the disguises got us out of Nemausus and down here to Arelate without any trouble. -

"I don't see as there's anything to smile at," grumbled Iolaus shortly as Autolycus sat down opposite him.

"Oh c'mon, Curly," Autolycus chided him happily, just for the fun of seeing Iolaus further aggravated. Winding up Hercules' blonde buddy was a source of constant delight for the lighthearted thief, "Isn't it good to see what it's like on the other side of the fence?"

"Very funny, Autolycus," growled the short man in genuine annoyance, "I've been propositioned three times and one of them just wouldn't take no for an answer."

"What happened?" questioned Joxer as he pulled his scarf straight on his head. It felt wrong without his helmet, and the scarf was dripping wet besides.

"Let's just say that he got more than he bargained for, and the last I saw of him, he was heading for a tavern as quickly as he could get there." replied Iolaus grumpily. "You owe me for this Autolycus," he told the thief threateningly.

The thief grinned even wider, "Don't get your skirts in a twist, shorty, things have worked out pretty well so far."

"Have you found any news of them?" demanded Toris.

"They're in the Prefecture," answered Joxer, though in a quiet tone for a change.

"More interesting, however," Autolycus told them, "Is the fact that the VIIth are moving north in the morning and that Caesar is going with them."

"We'd more or less worked that out for ourselves, so it's hardly that surprising," retorted Iolaus, still festering about being the indignities of being accosted on the street by lewd men.

"What is news, though," continued the King of Thieves, not put off by the blonde man's annoyance, "is that Brutus is taking a maniple of the VIIth and is heading on to Massilia."

"Gods in Olympus!" swore the small man, "That must mean he's splitting Gabrielle and Xena up!"

"That would be my guess," agreed Autolycus, "He's probably sending Gabrielle back to Rome for safe keeping, while he keeps Xena with him."

"What are we going to do?" asked Joxer, "We can't follow both of them at once."

"We can if we split up," Iolaus answered thoughtfully, "Two of us will follow after Caesar, the other two will go after Brutus and watch for the chance to free Gabrielle."

Before anyone else could say anything, Toris told them firmly, "I'm going north after Xena. She's my sister," he said simply.

Iolaus and Autolycus looked at each other, "I'd toss you for it, shorty, but I kind of promised Xena that I'd get Gabrielle free. So I guess I have to follow Brutus."

The blonde man looked at Joxer, with something like relief on his face. He was well aware that Autolycus felt the same as he did, that Toris and Joxer needed to have leveller heads around them. Therefore if the thief was going to Rome, he'd be going north with Toris, which left Joxer to accompany Autolycus.

"What?" asked Joxer as he felt them looking at him and unaware of the by-play between them.

"Looks like you're coming with me, oh mighty mistress of mayhem," Autolycus told him with barely concealed reluctance.

"That's Master of Mayhem," corrected Joxer in irritation.

The thief looked him up and down insultingly before saying dismissively, "Whatever." He looked at Toris and Iolaus, "Seriously, though, you should be very careful. There are descriptions plastered everywhere around this city, and I have no doubt that it will be the same wherever you follow them to."

"They'll be looking for four men," Iolaus pointed out.

"That doesn't mean to say they won't recognise the two of you, just because there is only two of you. Most Roman's are smarter than that," pointed out the thief.

"We know the risks," put in Toris, angry and impatient, "What would you have me do? Abandon her?"

Autolycus gave the dark haired man a long steady look before asking, "Are all your family so hard headed?"

Toris had the grace to look a little embarrassed over the ungraciousness of his words and tone, before offering a bear quirk of his lips as he returned in a milder way, "Mostly, yes."

The thief shook his head as he looked at the man who resembled his sister in so many ways, "Just try to remember that if you get caught you're not going to help her situation."

Iolaus answered for them both, "We know and we'll both be careful," he glared at Autolycus, though and added, "But you can send me to Hades in a handcart if you think I'm going to trail north in these clothes," he said taking a long draft of his ale.

"Ah, and you look so cute too," teased the thief, "and the blue of your dress really compliments your complexion and your eyes."

"Hey, how come you never say things like that to me?" complained Joxer as Iolaus spluttered and spat his drink in exasperated fury. "I think I've got nice eyes too," he said fluttering his eyelashes.

Iolaus was torn between a desire to strangle Autolycus or pummel Joxer into a senseless heap. In the end he settled for an acid barb at the thief, "I hope you AND Joxer have a pleasant journey to Rome."

"Thanks, Iolaus," grinned the feckless warrior, taking the sentence at face value.

"Oh yeah," agreed Autolycus, a little less happy with being on the receiving end of things, "real pleasant."

It was late into the evening, after the feast had finished and after he had dealt with the inevitable details needing his attention, that Caesar made his visit to the dungeon to check on Xena. Patroclese, of course, had already reported that the fight had caused the woman no major damage, just bruising .. although that was hard to believe when he remembered some of the pounding she had taken from the hulking brute pitted against her.

His lips quirked into an unpleasant smile as he thought about the situation. Xena's battle skills were going to recoup all the money he had had to lay out in order to capture her, and line his treasury with enough funds to further pursue his aims in Rome. Not only that, but if his plans worked out, she would also give him a much needed diplomatic victory in Gaul.

It was such a sweet revenge on the woman who had caused him so much trouble, but that revenge would not be complete until he had subjugated her to his will .. the anticipation of which deepened the smile that failed to touch the cold malevolence of his eyes. Everything would come to him in time, - After all, - he thought to himself with total confidence, - it is my destiny! -

He was pleased to note that the guards were alert, - If they hadn't been they would have been sorry! - he thought grimly. He moved without ceremony through his men, and stood outside of the bars, observing Xena as she dozed on the uncomfortably narrow wooden bench that served as the cell's only furniture.

Without moving, or opening her eyes, the Warrior Princess growled, "What do you want, Caesar?"

Her sensory abilities intrigued him. He couldn't understand how she could possibly know it was him, or that another pair of eyes was watching her, when her every move was observed by at least six men, day and night. He watched her as she swung her feet to the ground and sat up to face him. The look she gave him was filled with cold animosity .. the kind that is built up over years, nurtured, matured and allowed to cool into burning ice. He knew she would not speak again until he did, and he was tempted to allow the silence to stretch. However, he had come for a purpose and he did not intend to allow Xena to manipulate him this time, "We travel north tomorrow," he informed her.

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. Her eyes were cool and mocking, almost as if she knew what he was going to say, almost as if she knew what he was planning. She did not speak, and so he was forced to continue with what he had to say. "Your friend, however, will be going to Rome," he told her. He noticed the slight tensing of her muscles, and perhaps a faint gleam in her eyes, maybe of hope at the possibility of breaking loose and getting to Gabrielle before he could do anything about it.

"I'm telling you this because I want you to understand that the rules haven't changed significantly," he told her with assurance. He watched her watching him. There seemed to be an element of a cat watching a mouse here, but it was difficult to know just who was playing what part. "Admittedly, I won't have the bard to hand to punish for any transgression of the rules," he told her. "But believe me, Xena. Should you manage to escape from me, she'll be dead before you ever get to her. Messenger pigeons will get to Rome long before you can make it there, and your irritating friend will die a messy, painful, death. Believe it's so, because her well being lies in your hands."

She hadn't moved a muscle. Hadn't batted an eyelid. Whatever she felt at his announcement, she had no intention of showing it to him. And ... there seemed to remain a glimmer of hope in her eyes, - Is Flaccus right? - he questioned himself, - Did she manage to speak with one of those four men. If so, it was almost certainly the thief. His reputation is ... impressive. -

Well he had the means to crush that spark of belief, "Oh," he said with casual indifference, "I wouldn't count on much help from the thief .. Autolycus isn't it?." He saw her eyes narrow at his words, "Whatever he told you, he and his companions have troubles of their own. You know, Joxer and Iolaus ... and of course your brother ... Toris." He saw her fists start to clench before she forced them to relax, "I know all about them, Xena," Caesar told her with calm assurance, "It won't be too long before they join you in the cells."

Xena rose slowly from the bench and moved with a deadly menace over to where he stood. She said nothing, she made no overtly dangerous movement, but her whole body seemed to radiate an intense, deadly, intent that Caesar found difficult to ignore. Yet he met her look for look; a smile his response to the bleak frostiness of her attitude.

"Get some rest," he advised her, as he turned his back on her with apparent contempt for any threat she posed. "You'll need all your energy for what lies ahead of you."

Xena stood watching him until he had left the dungeon, before returning, with carefully studied indifference, to the bench upon which she lay down once more. Her thoughts boiling within her. It was obvious that all four of her would-be rescuers were safe for the time being, or Caesar would have delighted in showing them off to her. If they were loose then, with luck, they would go after Gabrielle and free her. Caesar probably wouldn't expect that. He failed to appreciate the love that the bard inspired in the people who knew her and counted her as a friend. Being unable to love anyone but himself, it was hardly surprising, but it could prove vital in this situation. He'd judge by his own standards and would almost certainly expect the four to come after her. - His prize! - she snarled silently to herself.

It was something to cling to. So long as the four men acted sensibly, and freed Gabrielle, then Caesar would be hamstrung. His efforts to hold and control the Warrior Princess would be severely hampered, and she just might get the chance to turn the tables on him .... But would Toris see it that way and understand that Gabrielle was the key to her freedom? She fell into a light sleep with the question running through her mind.