She had been there perhaps half a candlemark, when Patroclese appeared from the doorway that led to the officers cabins. He came straight across the deck, carrying his medical equipment and a small bundle of cloth, moving directly to Xena's side, ignoring the silent inspection of the guards as he did so.

"How are you doing today?" he inquired as he settled behind her to start his daily routine of tending her injuries.

"Oh, fine," she breathed a little heavily as the healer's hands began a careful exploration of the cuts and welts that covered her back, "Loving every minute of it!" she added, the heavy flavour of sarcasm evident in her words.

"You know, I wish I could work out just how you manage to heal so fast .. some of these stitches are ready to come out," he told her as he searched his bag for the delicate scissors that he carried.

"Clean living and healthy exercise," she grunted mockingly as he began working on the stitches near to her shoulders.

Once he had removed those ready to be taken out, he began to work a cleaning fluid across her back, careful to concentrate particularly on the areas where the stitches had just been pulled, "You know this is going to be sore for quite a while, but I really believe that all you're going to be left with is some light scaring .. it's incredible."

"Yeah! lucky me! You ought to try it from my perspective," she grimaced as the cleaning fluid bit at a particularly painful spot.

Finished with the cleanser, he proceeded to gently sooth in the salve that helped numb the pain from the lacerations, "I see you've been upsetting Flaccus again," he said, stopping what he was doing for a moment to turn her head towards him, "That's going to need a couple of stitches." He finished treating her back and moved round in front of her, gently wiping the blood away from her face and the cut on her hairline, "You are single handedly working me to death. Not only do I have all your wounds to take care of, but then I get all the ones that you hand out to the guards as well."

She fixed him with a cold stare, "Don't forget Caesar's little aches and pains," she told him with more than a touch of satisfaction in her words.

Patroclese dabbed firmly at her latest wound with the cleanser, "That wasn't a smart move," he told her sharply noticing her wince a little from the pain of his ministrations. He held a wad of linen to the cut, "Can you hold that?" he asked.

She grimaced a bit, but bent her back and head down low enough so that she could hold the cloth to the wound while he readied needle and thread, "What happens next?" she asked, more for something to take her mind off the agony induced from stretching the healing tissues of her back than anything else.

Moving her hand aside, the healer took hold of the scalp split and quickly worked to put the required stitches in, "Rome is organising a Victory Parade for Caesar and Veranius. Nothing much will happen until the VIIth Legion has disembarked with the Carthaginian prisoners, then the parade will form up and march through the assembled citizenry to the Temple of Jupiter where victor's laurels will be accepted, then onto a formal reception and dinner .. there that should hold it."

"What's he got planned for me?" she asked as he rubbed a little of the salve onto the stitched cut.

He looked at her seriously, "You'll be part of the parade, Xena. He wants to show Rome that no one can escape him .. you pretty much made him look at best foolish and at worse incompetent when you escaped from the prison. He's going to display you to everyone who dared to laugh openly, or behind his back."

"Figures," she answered with the slightest of shrugs as though she'd expected no less ... which she hadn't.

"Flaccus has orders to keep you tightly in line, Xena. If he even thinks you're going to give trouble, he won't hesitate," Patroclese warned.

Xena grinned her quirky half smile, "What possible trouble could I give?" she asked rattling her chains at him, while hearing one of Gabrielle's favourite comments, 'You could find trouble in a totally empty room!'

"Just don't do anything to antagonise them," he asked, knowing that she would do what she thought fit. He pulled out a jar of aloe and rubbed the cooling ointment across her blistered arms, guessing how sore they must feel.

"I've got some fresh clothes for you," he told her pulling the cloth bundle over.

"What? He doesn't want to parade me half naked through Rome's streets to humiliate me?" she asked in mock disbelief.

"He doesn't want to shock the matrons of Rome," he gave her a frankly considering look, "Nor make them mad with jealousy."

Xena almost snorted with laughter, "With their hero come home, do you think anyone's going to spare my beaten carcass more than a passing glance?"

"Don't underestimate your beauty, Xena," the healer told her with a broadening smile, "I think that's one of the reasons he wants you fully clothed. He wants all eyes on him, and you would be something of a distraction as you are now." He eyed her warily, "I'm going to have to unlock your chains so you can put these on. You're not going to do anything foolish, are you?"

Xena sighed, knowing she was in absolutely no condition to take on even the six soldiers on close watch, "No, Patroclese .. I'll be good."

"Didn't think that word was in your vocabulary," he chuckled as he handed a key to one of the guards, who unlocked the leash from around the mast. He shook out a grey, sleeveless shirt and threaded the chain through the neck of the garment, before handing the end back to the soldier to secure once more. He settled the shirt over his patient's head before undoing the belt buckles, "Hang on a moment, while I just put some cleanser and salve onto this bit here," he told her, "I couldn't get to it before."

She waited patiently until he finished before holding out her clenched hands so he could unlock the cuffs. Free from the restraint, she moved gingerly to work her arms into the sleeve holes, and with Patroclese's help, eased the cloth down over the painful injuries covering her back.

The manacles were quickly replaced and the belt refastened, although the healer was careful not to pull it as tight as Flaccus had. He then unlocked the leg irons and motioned her to remove the soiled trousers she had been wearing. He winced when he saw the fresh bruising on the backs of her thighs, and wondered just what she'd done to get them. It was evident that she needed a bath, but a dousing with a couple of buckets of river water was the best that could be managed.

Xena stood quietly while Patroclese did his best to clean her up, glad that she'd never particularly suffered from personal modesty, aware of the unashamed admiration of both the soldiers and sailors on the deck. When the healer had finished cleaning and tending her wounds caused by rope burns and sores, he helped her on with the grey, replacement trousers and finally, he locked the shackles back on her ankles.

"No boots, huh?" she asked, having already surmised that there wouldn't be.

"'Fraid not. You're to be the conquered slave, so you'll walk barefoot through Rome."

"When does this shindig start?" she questioned idly.

"About a candlemark after midday," the healer supplied the answer, "Not too long now."

"Great. Can't wait," growled the Warrior Princess as she watched Patroclese pack up his things.

"Try to get some rest," he advised, "This won't be easy." He saw her nod as he headed back to his cabin.

Caesar sat at his desk resplendent in the white tunic and burnished golden armour that he was to wear for the parade. In his hands he held a message scroll from Brutus, and his face was a darkening thunder head of anger. He smashed the scroll onto the desk and snarled at Flaccus, "He lost her! The damn fool lost the bard and the two men on his way here!"

The centurion rubbed at his chin, a worried look on his face, "That could make things a bit awkward with the slave, sir. Threatening the bard is about the only thing that has any lasting effect on her."

Caesar leaned back in his chair, his brown eyes stormy, a glower decorating his handsome features, "Well then, we just have to make sure that she doesn't hear that the brat is missing. The next time she steps out of line, you tell her she has lost the privilege of seeing her precious Gabrielle. We'll work on finding someone who looks enough like her from a distance to fool Xena into believing that the bard is still safely in our custody .. perhaps we can arrange for her to hear some screams from the 'brats' beatings. It might be enough to keep her under control until we have Gabrielle safely back where she belongs .. under my lock and key."

He glared at the scroll unseeing as a thought came to his mind, "Oh, Flaccus. Don't say anything to Patroclese about the bard being missing. He's far to concerned about Xena's well being .. I don't think it's wise to give him more information than he needs."

"You don't trust him, sir?"

"I trust few men, Flaccus," he answered, his tone seeming to include the centurion among the few, "Patroclese is a fine physician, but he allows his emotions to get in the way of his duty. He's loyal enough, but .. lets not put temptation in his path, though," he added thoughtfully.

"As you command, sir," agreed Flaccus, "How do you want me to arrange the maniple for the parade, sir?"

"Xena's leash is to be chained to my chariot. I want you within reach of her at all times. Increase her personal guard to ten and have them march either side of her, make sure they carry the heavy batons. I want forty men in front of the chariot, they can keep an eye on the Carthaginian prisoners who will be ahead of them, the rest can form up and march behind us. Warn all the men that if she escapes, I'll have them crucified," he looked at the craggy centurion, "Keep her under control Flaccus. Do what you have to short of killing her, but you make sure that she knows, and keeps, her place."

"Sir," he saluted crisply, "I'll make sure she understands how to behave, before the procession starts."

"Good man," smiled Caesar, "Very well, dismissed."

Nebula had remained watching the activities on the trireme with interest. Xena, she had noted had been left strictly alone, although six men had been detailed to guard her and they never took their eyes off her. - If I had to put up with that for long, - she mused, - I'd be ready to climb out of my skin! They're obviously either very afraid of her, or taking no chances, or both. -

Her interest intensified as she saw the tall blonde man approach the captive warrior. He was obviously well known by the guards, who allowed him to pass and he set about treating the woman's wounds with a casual efficiency that spoke of easy competence, - Well at least they want to keep her alive, - Nebula deduced, - although after all the trouble they've been to in beating her half to death, you'd never believe it. -

The relevance of the clothing that Xena was given wasn't lost on the pirate, only slaves wore grey in Rome, it identified them almost as strongly as the collars that they wore. As the warrior turned her back when she sat down once more, Nebula could see the odd patch of blood already marking the cloth of the shirt.

Sighing, the pirate captain shifted her attention back along the docks to where the wharves were crammed with soldiers disembarking from the rest of the fleet. Each of the men was equipped in his dress uniform, all metal parts polished until they gleamed in the sun's splendour. It wouldn't be long before they were ready to start the pageant.

A racketing noise on the cobbled wharf, close to the ship, drew her attention away from the VIIth Legion and to a white chariot lavishly decorated with gold leaf. The perfect vehicle for Caesar's Triumphal entry into Rome. - I wonder if he'll share the place of honour with the Admiral? - she grinned mirthlessly. It was probable. Caesar was an astute politician and he knew that giving Veranius an equal part in this procession would bind the man too him.

Glancing up at the sun, Nebula figured that it was about half a candlemark after noon. She doubted that there would be much longer to wait. Nearly all the players were in place. Just one or two more to take their station on the stage and all would be ready.

Flaccus had left Caesar's cabin and gone to his own where he had changed into his own dress uniform, making sure that it had been prepared to his exacting specifications. Once he finished dressing, he added his sword, picked up his vine staff of office, tucking it under his left arm, and added one final piece of equipment that was strictly non-regulation; a wicked looking whip with a foot long, heavy, solid, handle that had half a dozen, two foot long, leather lashes extending from it. It was not a tool he used lightly or often, - But with some soldiers and slaves, it's the only way to get their attention. - He pushed it through his belt displaying it prominently, knowing that the woman would be sure to see it and recognise its significance.

Straightening his tunic, he was already moving up to the deck when he heard one of the sailors reporting the arrival of Caesar's chariot. - Time to get her onto shore, - he noted to himself. He marched across to where the slave sat, - Almost meek - he thought, until you noticed the undaunted glint in her eyes. - Gods, but she is going to be a test of endurance. -

"Get up, slave." he ordered, waiting for her to give him a reason to emphasise her place once more.

Xena responded .. not immediately, there was enough hesitation in response to show she'd thought about it, but it wasn't enough for him to object too. She could tell he was looking for an excuse, was looking to test how far her stubborn independence had been cowed.

He moved behind her checking that the belt had been replaced securely, and found it too loose for his tastes. He tightened each buckle three holes so that the leather pinched tight into her flagellated skin, making her bite her lip to avoid crying out. He then examined each cuff of her shackles to make sure that they were locked securely.

Grunting with satisfaction, he pulled out the small ring of keys that Patroclese had returned to him, and selected one. Using it, he unlocked the chain from the mast and gathered in the slack until his fingers could curl around the collar. Pulling her face close to his he told her in a menacing growl, "We're going down to the wharf, and you are going to do exactly as you are told, when you are told ... you got that?" he demanded.

Quelling any number of smart retorts that sprang to her mind, Xena looked him squarely in the eyes, fighting to keep fire from showing with little success, and answered in a low but audible tone, "Yes ... sir."

Flaccus knew there was plenty of fight left in her. - The woman has a strong spirit, we may never break it but, by the Gods, we can grind it so far under that she'll need a shovel to find it again. - He released his hold on the collar and gave the leash a firm tug to get her to follow him. She trailed behind, the image of docility, but he had seen the wolf still lurking, and knew that she was far from subdued.

They moved down the gangplank, the allotted guard members already in place behind the chariot, Xena stumbled along, seemingly concentrating on keeping her footing as she trailed the leg irons over the deck and down to the wharf, but her eyes took in all the details, analysing prospects, weighing possibilities, even knowing that there would be no opportunity for her to effect some miraculous escape.

She stopped when Flaccus did, pinning her eyes to the ground so that he couldn't read the challenge and defiance that she knew she couldn't bury for any length of time. She watched covertly as the centurion locked the end of the chain to the chariot, - So I'm to be a prize hound on a leash awaiting her master's pleasure, am I? - She could feel the slow burn of indignation and attempted to crush it before it could flare and cause a reaction. The attempt was only partially successful, but so long as she didn't look Flaccus in the eyes, she thought she'd be able to hide it and keep it under control.

"Sit!" Flaccus demanded.

- Even issues commands as if I were some kind of damn dog, - her mind growled, but she sank to the ground as ordered and thought about working on some simple meditation techniques to still the growing anger she was feeling. She needed control, or she would doom Gabrielle to a life of agony that matched her own current existence.

"Alright slave," Flaccus growled at her, "We will soon be taking a nice leisurely stroll along the streets of Rome. You will behave yourself, because I'm going to be right behind you with this." he dangled the flail in front of her downcast eyes, and grinned as he saw the involuntary twitch away from the whip, before she could control her reaction.

"When we reach the Temple of Jupiter you will mount the steps behind Lord Caesar and there you will kneel to him in supplication and you will stay there until you are told to move," he saw her nostrils flare as she struggled to control a burst of temper, "Do you understand?" he flicked her shoulder lightly with the whip to emphasise his question.

Xena breathed deeply, - I can do this, - she told herself, forcing her stubborn pride into a queasy nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach, - I have to do this, - she told herself firmly. The vicious looking whip began to draw back for a harder blow, she drew a deep breath and answered, "Yes .. sir." It made her want to vomit.

Flaccus reversed the flail in his hand and used the leather pommel to lift her chin so he could look into the icy blue eyes, "Remember that, slave. You really wouldn't want to see what kind of mess this little .. toy would make of the bard's back, now would you?" He saw hatred and anger flare and noted how the knuckles of her clenched fists turned white as she glared at him with a chilling intensity, "I said, would you?" he repeated threateningly.

"No .. sir," she managed to grit out without choking on the words.

"Very good, slave. You will learn how to be obedient .. eventually," he smirked patronizingly and removed the whip handle allowing her to drop her head once more as she struggled to retain self-control.

- God's! - her mind screamed, - I just want a chance to shove that thing right down his throat! - She could visualize just how hard and at what angle she should push it to get the best effect. She shuddered with the effort to control her desire to perform the feat.

Deciding he'd made his point for the moment, Flaccus did a quick inspection of his men as he waited for the VIIth Legion to move into position. Two Cohorts were to march at the front of the procession ahead of the Carthaginian prisoners and then the elite maniple, with Caesar, would follow in their assigned places before the rest of the VIIth, the other eight cohorts, brought up the rear.

Xena looked up from her place on the ground as she heard the familiar tramp of marching feet. The second cohort of the VIIth Legion marched past her, followed by the Carthaginians chained in ten rows of five men, each man wearing a single ankle cuff through which was threaded a long chain linking one man to the next.

As they passed the heavily guarded woman, her fellow captives called out words of encouragement to her, "Don't let them grind you down, Xena!" she heard, "Stand up to the Roman bastards!" came another. She lifted her head as they started a rhythmic handclap and the low rumbling chant of, "Xena, Xena, Xena!"

She gave them a dazzling smile, even as guards with whips started flicking the lash over the shoulders of the men, - So they'd heard about the punishment I received. - she thought, - News like that seems to fly around a fleet even while at sea, - she grinned. - Well fair is fair, let me give them some support in return. -

"Long Live Carthage!" she called out in reply as the mid point of the captive men passed her. Getting a loud cheer in return.

She sensed the motion of the whip, managing to turn slightly so that the lashes fell more across her arms than her back. Drawing her knees up, tucking her head down, she protected her head with her hands and kept her front to Flaccus who beat her four or five times with the merciless scourge.

"Don't you ever learn, Slave?" he demanded having covered her exposed arms in red welts. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head up, seeing the flash of animosity and rage that appeared there.

"You said nothing about talking to other captives," she bridled. - Dumb move, Xena, - she admonished herself expecting the back hand fist that rattled her jaw.

"I've warned you on more than one occasion about that smart mouth of yours," he growled at her, "I think that maybe once we're settled, I'll have the armourer make up a muzzle for you, that should help you to keep your mouth shut. But, until we can bring that about, I'll just have to deny you the privilege of seeing the bard until you mend you ways." He felt her body tense and stiffen, "Maybe I'll order a nice healthy thrashing with a switch and arrange for you to listen to her yells."

Xena's muscles tightened with the need to react and ice settled into her eyes once more, "Just one more twitch," Flaccus almost purred, "and by any God you care to name, I'll have the hide off her back just like I did with you."

He felt her slowly relax, the icy rage dying in her eyes to be replaced a look of sullen defeat. Gabrielle's safety was more important to her than her own. She could even control her rage and pride if the price was the bard's continued safety ... well she fervently hoped she could.

- Damn, - thought Flaccus, - We really need that bard, otherwise the only way we're going to keep control of this one is by continually reinforcing commands with beatings. Lord Caesar wants her more or less intact so she can be fought in the pits, so I'm going to have to come up with something else to subdue her spirit.

- Eyes were drawn once again to the marching of feet, as the first cohort moved to take it's position at the head of the column. As they began passing the chariot, there was a blast of trumpets which blew a fanfare to herald the Admiral and Caesar as they disembarked from the ship. Xena's meticulous eye noted that her enemy had dressed himself as the conquering hero; his white tunic and golden body armour was complimented by the scarlet cape that hung from his shoulders, disguising the splints on his wrist in its folds, and the golden helmet trimmed with scarlet plumes that adorned his head. He smiled as the fist cohort bellowed in recognition, "Hail Caesar!" and executed perfect Roman salutes to their beloved general.

- Bastard knows how to dress the part! - she admitted grudgingly to herself. - Knows how to keep his troops happy too. -

Caesar preceded Veranius down the narrow gangplank, leaving the Admiral his right to be the last to leave his ship. When he reached the cobbled stones of the wharf, he moved with confident stride directly to the chariot and looked down at his slave, "Welcome back to Rome, Xena," he said to her, "I trust you're ready to begin your new existence here, because all you have known before is ended."

"And if I'm not?" she questioned flatly.

Caesar saw the centurion tense his arm, ready to bring the flail down across Xena's shoulders. He held up a hand, halting the action, "Rome's my city Xena. Here I have absolute power ...."

"I'm sure Pompey disputes that," she growled, interrupting him.

This time Flaccus wasn't stopped, a heavy blow fell across her shoulders, breaking open some of the partially healed wounds there, Xena could feel the tickling trails of blood as the cuts began to weep once again.

"As I was saying," continued Caesar smoothly, "My city, my power. No one here will help you or your friends. It's time you accepted the inevitable and gave up the struggle. For all your stubborn pride, there is only one outcome to this situation. It's just a question of how many beatings you and the irritating blonde are going to have to take to convince you of it."

Veranius joined him, "Ah, my friend," smiled the Roman noble, "Are you ready to receive the plaudits of the people?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," grinned the stocky Admiral, "I much prefer to leave this kind of thing to others."

"You've earned this, my friend," smiled Caesar, motioning Veranius onto the chariot, "Let's enjoy the rewards being offered." He added, hopping gracefully onto the vehicle.

Flaccus motioned two men to haul Xena to her feet, and then growled at her, "You're pushing your luck, slave. From now on when you address the general, you call him master. Got that?"

The Warrior Princess's reply was drowned in another blast from the trumpets. Flaccus didn't get the chance to repeat his question as the procession began to move out, and Xena was forced to concentrate on adjusting her stride to the restrictions of her leg irons, and the pace of the chariot. Her body ached and the cobbles hurt her feet .. something that she knew would be a real problem before they reached their destination.