Sitting on the sofa in the women's suite, with her legs curled under her and busy fingers rummaging through the box of delicious sweetmeats on her lap, she told Gabrielle and Eponin, "I think he's getting desperate," she grinned smugly, "Since he's been back, I've avoided him like Zeus avoids Hera .. so he's resorted to sending me these," she held up the box of confections as illustration, and then gestured at the forest of flowers that had invaded the sitting room.

"Eph, if you keep stuffing those sweets, you're gonna need a front door wide enough for a centaur when we get home," pointed out Eponin wryly, snagging a marzipaned nut as the box whisked past her hand.

"Ha!" scoffed the Regent as she jerked her box away from the Weapons Master and directly into the path of Gabrielle's nimble fingers, "You've got room to talk, Poni. Don't think I haven't seen you sneaking in here to snaffle some of these for yourself .. Hey!" she yelped as she realised that the bard had managed to grab a solid handful of the prized candy, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to steal from your friends?" she demanded with mock sternness.

The bard gave her a long look before poking her tongue out and crossing her eyes at the blonde Amazon, grinning mischievously and throwing a treat over to the widely smiling Eponin, "Here ya go Poni, I'm sure her mother taught her it was polite to share with friends!" she commented with a nasty smirk.

"You'll get stuck like that if the wind changes on you, Gabrielle," warned Ephiny with a feigned seriousness that was intentionally comical.

The Amazon Queen popped a sweet into her mouth, produced an ecstatic look on her face and replied, "Old wives tale, Eph .. or Poni would have been stuck with a face like a centaur having constipation, years ago." she grinned, ducking the cushion that was thrown in her direction.

"Har de har har!" growled the dark haired Amazon as she made another grab for the jealously guarded candy box.

Ephiny slapped her hands away, and huffed, "If you want more, go find your own Roman and get him to fall in love with you."

"I think I'd rather give birth to a centaur," grumped Eponin.

"Been there, done that .. and believe me, charming a Roman into giving candy is a lot easier and far less painful!" She thought of the wild afternoon of passion spent with Caesar, "Well mostly," she corrected herself. It went somewhat quiet for a few moments before Gabrielle filled the silence with a quiet, "Ephiny ..." but got no further before the Regent and Weapons Master answered in unison.

"No!"

The Regent looked at her young Queen and, modifying her tone, explained yet again, "Gabrielle. It's far too dangerous. We'd have trouble hiding that damned collar, and all it would take would be for Caesar to recognise you and everything goes to Hades on a handcart."

The bard slumped back into her seat and pouted, "You have no idea how hard it is just to sit here and wait for news. At least you get a chance to get out there and do something!" She tried the puppy dog expression that usually got her anything she asked for, "I just need to see her .. see for myself that she's alright ...."

"Forget it Gabrielle," Ephiny told her firmly, hardening her heart against the pleading that she saw in her friend's eyes. "It's just too dangerous, so forget it and have another sweet," she offered forcefully jamming the box under the bard's nose. Willing to sacrifice even her precious candies if it got her some respite from the incessant pleading.

Across the hall, Hercules was beginning to lose his temper, "No way Toris," he told the tall raven haired man with finality. "You'd stand out like a sore thumb, and we can't afford anything going wrong at this stage of the game."

Whirling away from the demi-god in frustration, Toris stalked back and forth making angry gestures, before he turned back to face the adamant tawny haired giant, "Look! She's my sister. Surely if I'm disguised as an Amazon there won't be any problem? All I want to do is see her with my own eyes to make sure she's alright."

Hercules took a deep calming breath and counted to ten before explaining calmly and patiently, at least outwardly, that the other man going along to Caesar's palace would be utter madness. "Look at it this way, Toris, if everything goes as planned you'll be able to spend plenty of time satisfying yourself that Xena's fine on the trip back to Greece. Taking you into the enemies lair would be like putting a burning torch to a jar of oil ... Do you really want to risk everything for an early glimpse of your sister?"

Toris looked at him and wanted to loudly declare 'Yes!', but he knew that the demi-god was speaking sense and that he just needed to be patient for a little while longer. He ran frustrated fingers through his long black hair and replied disgruntledly, "I suppose you're right .. but you should try and see it from my point of view. She's my younger sister. I've never been as good at anything as she is, and I've never been a lot of use to her. She always tried her best to help me .. even when I didn't want her help. Now I can do something to help her, or should be able to, but I'm shut up in this mausoleum and it's driving me nuts!" He slammed his fist against the wall, "I'm no use to her, I'm no use to myself! How do you think that makes me feel!" he almost shouted.

Iolaus came up from behind him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Hey buddy. Don't let it get to you. We're all feeling pretty useless right now. We'll get our chance to do something soon," he reminded his friend.

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Toris who had told himself the same thing many times over. It didn't help. For the first time in his life he had the chance of being able to help Xena, maybe earn some of her respect, and he was frustrated at every turn. He slumped down in a chair and stared moodily off into space.

"He's just got to be patient," shrugged Hercules, trying to understand the dejection that the other man felt.

Iolaus looked over to where Toris sat, "He knows. It's just ..."

"Just what?" asked the big man who really didn't understand the frustration being exuded by Toris.

The short blonde drew in a deep breath, "He feels he needs to prove himself," he said quietly.

"To who?" returned Hercules, although he presumed it was Xena for whatever reason.

Iolaus could see the lack of comprehension in his best friend's eyes, and so tried to explain it, "He wants to prove himself to Xena .. and to her friends. It's like he's got this larger than life sister who does things that no mortal should be able to do and walks through the world like some giant. In the past .. when she was doing the evil Destroyer of Nations thing, it wasn't so bad .. he could disown her and never needed to match himself to her. But now that she's this great hero, righting wrongs and performing superhuman feats, he needs to feel he can measure up to her .. have some respect in her eyes at least."

The demi-god looked at him blankly, "Oh c'mon Iolaus. Toris is a grown man, not some jealous kid."

"You know, buddy," the short warrior retorted, "Someday you ought to sit down with Iphiclese and ask him how he feels having a brother who's a legendary hero."

Hercules gave him an amused glance, "Iphiclese is just fine, Iolaus. He doesn't walk in my shadow. He's a king in his own right."

"By default," the blonde reminded him sharply, "Jason offered you the crown first, remember."

A frown descended upon the demi-god's brow, "Are you certain?" he questioned his friend, and winced at Iolaus' nod, "I suppose when all this is over, I could take some time and visit with my brother," he said glancing over at the dark haired man who sat brooding across the room from him.

"Sounds like a plan," agreed the blonde. "Mean time, try to understand how hard it is for Toris, huh? This is not easy for him."

Pompey stalked around his chambers like a caged beast. Nothing was going to plan. His efforts to cause Caesar embarrassment in Reate had been swiftly diffused and the people's 'Emperor' remained as strong as ever. He had been so certain that, with Mars' aid, he would be able to topple his enemy and assume his rightful position as master of Rome and it's growing empire. But nothing had panned out as he had anticipated. Pouring himself a goblet of rich, red, wine that came from one of his southern estates, Pompey drank deeply and considered the problem once more, analysing it and arguing with himself.

- Firstly, Caesar had stolen the people's hearts and loyalty. -

- True, they could never stand up to my hardened legions, but if I march on Rome I lose any chance of gaining popular support. Besides, Caesar has brought his own loyal troops into the area making the prospect that much more difficult. -

- Secondly, Caesar's keeping the loyalty of Rome by 'buying' them with expensive extravaganzas that keep the mob entertained and out of the politicians hair. -

- That he's managing to do by using Xena's fighting skills to win huge wagers for him. Without her his easy access to dinars dries up, - he argued logically.

- Thirdly, he's got his money making warrior so tightly under wraps, it's going to take a minor miracle to break her free, - he estimated.

- The Amazon's are undoubtedly working on something. All this trade negotiating with Graccus is cover for some kind of ploy they've cooked up. The old fox is really too smart to get involved, but someone in his circle could be looking for a way to rock the boat in order to see who falls out and what advancement could come from it. -

- Finally, Caesar's hot after the Amazon Queen. My sources say that he's had a taste of her and wants more, while she's playing hard to get. Luckily he still hasn't got her to his bed, as such or I'd be losing a legion to him! -

- Obviously that was some part of this deep plan on Ephiny's part to free the Warrior Princess. The trouble is with this game, there's too many players each chasing their own ends. I think it may be time to withdraw from the arena so that I can be in position to make a challenge when the bloodletting is done. - he decided.

- So, what about the five hostages? - he quizzed himself.

"If the Amazons manage to free Xena," he said to himself softly, "Then they can take all their friends and leave with my blessing." He lifted the goblet and considered the contents thoughtfully, "Because if they can do that, they weaken Caesar on several fronts and it will give me my chance!" He made a silent toast to himself and the Amazons, before swallowing the last of the wine down.

Crossing to his desk, he picked up a small bell and shook it. The musical chime, brought a scribe slave hurrying through the door. "Take my compliments to the Amazon Queen. Relay my regrets that I cannot join her at Caesar's this evening as I have been called away on urgent business."

The slave bowed deeply and hurried off on his errand as Pompey finally relaxed into a chair and allowed a variety of scenarios, all of which he won, play out in his mind's eye.

Pompeia sat in the centre of a web of activity. Tonight she would play hostess to the biggest party of the year and grace the social scene as she had always been meant to. A small frown crossed her pretty face as she realised just how close she had come to jeopardising her position with that fiasco with the slave, Xena. Her husband had been far from happy with her part in the affair, and had told her pointedly and with a great deal of venom that, "Xena is off limits to you! She has nothing to do with you or the household .. and kindly refrain from forcing my men into difficult situations that could cost them their lives. Good soldiers are difficult to come by ... wives I can find plenty of."

The treat was unmistakable. She knew that she was useful to her husband, but apparently his obsession with the barbarian slave was more important to him. She allowed a little sigh to escape her, before looking up at the slave that stood waiting patiently for her to notice him, "Yes? what is it, Damastocles?" she asked with feigned weariness.

"Mistress, the florists want to know where you want the arrangements?" the slave answered her, and reached to take the lists that Pompeia thrust in his direction as she stood and stalked from her private sitting room out into the grand hall, where an anxious looking florist stood waiting, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"Master Thiudoricus," she spoke tartly, "You were given specific instructions about both the arrangements and the placements."

The poor florist shifted uneasily again, drawing a frown from the haughty woman that pinned him into uncomfortable immobility, "Beg pardon, ma'am," he ventured servilely, "But we were given the decoration instructions ..."

"Then why waste my time on this matter?" she demanded, not giving the man a chance to finish.

"Um, sorry ma'am, but .. ya see .. um, we never got the instructions on where you wanted the arrangements put ... ma'am."

Pompeia gave him a look that made Thiudoricus want to look for a rock to crawl under. Without taking her eyes off the florist, Caesar's wife held out her hand towards the vigilant slave who returned the sheathe of parchments to her with a promptness born of the knowledge that failure to do so would result in 'chastisement' as dereliction of duty.

Taking her eyes from the unhappy florist, Pompeia flicked through the lists, until her fingers stopped over one that lingered near the bottom of the pile. Throwing a glare at the hapless slave, who inwardly cringed, the woman put on a winning smile and turned to Thiudoricus, handing him the relevant parchment, "Here it is, master Florist. I'm sure that you and your able men, will do a fine job as always." She dismissed him with a flick of her hand and stalked off towards the next area that required her attention, a subdued Damastocles trailing behind her, knowing that he would shoulder the blame for his mistress' humiliating oversight.

"The kitchens next, I think," murmured Pompeia heading off towards the cook's domain, unaware of the scurrying slave rushing to warn the kitchen staff that their mistress was about to grace them with their annual inspection .. which she always timed for the busiest moment in their calender.

Xena had tried to refuse food or water the first time a slave attempted to feed her, but Flaccus was having none of it. With a quick motion of his hand, the Warrior Princess found herself firmly held, while the centurion used his strong, calloused, fingers to squeeze her jaw until he forced her mouth to open, motioning the slave to stuff a helping into the orifice. Her attempt at spitting the food out had been aborted by Flaccus forcing her jaws shut and ordering the slave to hold her nose until she swallowed the meat porridge.

"We can do this indefinitely," the senior centurion told her, "It's going to get old and tired for us, and painful for you .. but we can do it this way. Or you can stop acting like a barbaric savage and eat your food like a good girl. Either way, you will eat," he assured her.

Xena glared at him, but reason told her resistance was futile and pointless, however humiliated she felt about it, "I'll eat," she told him, venom dripping from her cold words. Flaccus smiled his deaths head smile and signalled the guards to back off and let the kitchen slave attend to his duties.

Two meals later, Xena was seated in the small room, off the kitchen, that the slaves used as their dining room. Ten guards were crammed into the space, standing around the wall edges, four of them with firm holds on the lead chains that remained attached to her collar and ankles every moment that she was out of the pit now.

Before her a plate of half finished roast beef, boiled barley, carrots, turnips and a hefty wedge of bread, all cut into small pieces so that no knives needed to be in the vicinity of the dangerous and violent woman, was being spooned into her, washed down with a cup of red wine and a mugfull of water. The food was plentiful and filling, if a little unimaginative, and the resentment of being hand fed had faded as she recognised that it was probably far less humiliating to eat this way than how she had been.

With the main meal finished, the slave removed the plate and spoon, taking them out to the scullery, before detouring into the kitchen and returning with several slices of moist, fresh, nutbread. The look and aroma of the desert made Xena immediately think of her bardic friend, her image springing easily to her mind, bringing with it, as always, a feeling of peace that she treasured for it's rarity.

- Gods, Gabrielle, - she thought as she bit into the slice and chewed slowly, - I hope they're feeding you my bard. -

It was at this point that a hurricane of obsessed activity struck the kitchens. Xena observed the organised chaos that suddenly erupted with an impartial interest; she knew that whatever was causing the fuss was not going to be allowed to interfere with either her guards, or more especially herself. Caesar had made it abundantly clear that no member of his household had any jurisdiction over his personal slave or the men he used for her security.

- It seems they are expecting a visitation by one of the gods, - a small smile quirked onto her lips as she considered that concept, chewing another bite of the offered nutbread. - But, nah! It's far more likely to be a state visit by the mistress of the house, - she told herself as she tried to move her awkwardly restrained wrists enough to work some of the ache out of her elbows. When they had shortened the chains on the manacles it had left her unable to fully straighten her arms.

She was finishing off her mug of wine, when Pompeia swept into the kitchens on her tour of inspection, wanting to be certain that everything would be in readiness for the night's festivities. Xena slowly chewed on the remaining nutbread, as she caught glimpses of movement through the open door, and heard the variety of compliments and complaints that emanated from the volatile Roman matron. She had just polished off the last of her desert, and had taken a long swallow of water to wash everything down, when she became aware of the kitchen's sudden silence, but more especially another pair of hostile eyes upon her.

Ignoring the presence of Caesar's wife, Xena grinned at the kitchen slave and said, "Thanks Mattin, that filled a hole."

The youth grinned back after a nervous glance at his mistress who stood motionless in the doorway, "No problem, Xena," he whispered as he stood with the empty plate and collected the mugs off the table, "Hopefully I'll get you something good for last meal," he added before scurrying out of the room, moving carefully past Pompeia who appeared to glide in.

The small, elegant woman, stood before the fettered, unconquered, slave and glared at her until the guards yanked on the chains and forced Xena to stand before the mistress of the house. As Pompeia examined the Warrior Princess with a disdainful look on her face, Xena cocked her head to one side, arched an eyebrow and returned the inspection smirking disrespectfully.

"So ... I finally get to have a long look at my husband's infamous slave," sneered the green-eyed woman.

Blue eyes fastened on the Roman lady's conveying the icy cold of death and a barely contained menace. In a low, dangerous voice, Xena told Caesar's wife, "In his dreams!"

Folding her arms, Pompeia allowed her eyes to flick from the shackles binding the warrior, to the guards surrounding her, and reluctantly back to the blue eyes, "How then would you describe your situation, here?" she asked sarcastically.

Shifting her wrists slightly, making the shortened links clink together, Xena quirked a smile and answered, "How about unwilling guest?"

Pompeia scowled. She really resented this confident, dangerous and intelligent woman who so obsessed her husband's thoughts, - Julius might not be bedding her, - she admitted sourly, - but it's only because he's scared spitless of what she'd do to him if he tried it! - "I think, Slave, that you are merely denying the obvious." She reached out boldly and touched the body heated metal that was locked around the warrior's neck. "My husband defeated you and now you're nothing but a trained animal kept to fight on command ... like you will tonight."

Xena suppressed the burn of anger that she felt in the pit of her stomach and remained outwardly at ease, projecting a sense power and control that was at odds with her current situation, "He never defeated me. He set up an ambush and it took near enough two hundred men to take me and it will take more than he's got to keep me," she told the other woman with unshakable confidence.

After long moments, "What's that saying?" She paused for a heartbeat for effect, "Ah, yes .. All's fair in love and war! I think, slave, that your pride is keeping you from recognising your situation. I believe you need to be humbled."

Snorting in derision, Xena retorted, "Your husband has never loved anyone except himself, has never beaten me except for tricks and treachery .. and my pride? Well let's just say, there's not much in my life that I'm proud of, but at least I have the courage to admit it and face that .. unlike your husband or, for that matter, you."

A guard deciding that she was being far too disrespectful to his general's wife, hit her across the back with his baton. The warrior princess showed none of the pain she felt, merely twitching her shoulders as if to shrug the blow off .. she was used to it and worse, and she wouldn't give Pompeia any satisfaction in seeing her register the existence of pain anymore than she would have Caesar.

"You'll pay for that remark," the Roman woman told her with deadly intensity.

Xena grinned nastily at her, "You'll have to take a number and get in line for that," she laughed, "I think they're drawing lots who get's a piece of me first! Of course they'll make certain I'm safely chained before they try it .. I think they're scared of me," she smirked as she shifted her feet and had the satisfaction of seeing each of the guards grow extremely wary and grip their batons hard ready for immediate use, "What do you think?" she laughed without mirth.

Pompeia blanched white, acknowledging to herself that she too was scared of this woman .. and that made her angry! And it made her furious to realise that the slave knew she was scared. The insolent grin on the woman's face informed the noblewoman that she knew exactly what effect she was having on her owner's wife, and just how little she cared for the realities of their relevant social positions. "I'll see you whipped!" Pompeia promised grimly.

"Been there," answered Xena with an aggravating grin, "And it won't be today. Julius wants me to fight for him tonight .. and I can hardly do that if my back has been cut to ribbons again, now can I?"

Moving behind the disdainful slave, Pompeia instructed a guard to lift the short grey tunic from where it was tucked into the belt and skirt she wore. A lattice of white scars, vivid against bronzed skin, was revealed. The sight was impressive, the Roman woman didn't think she'd ever seen a slave who had taken such abuse without it breaking them ... if they survived of course. She ran her fingers over the smooth flesh, watching as the warrior's muscles tightened and rippled away from her touch.

The feel of the skin elicited another frown from Pompeia. The bite of the lash always left hardened ridges of scarred material on the victim, yet this slave's skin felt silky and showed every sign of eventually healing so that it would be difficult to trace the marks. "When was this done?" she demanded of one of the guards.

He shrugged, it was a much considered topic of conversation amongst the maniple who found it disconcerting how fast and completely the woman could heal, "About a moon ago, your Ladyship," he answered. "The animal took fifty lashes on the ship from Gaul after she attempted to escape and kidnap Lord Caesar. The very faint lines are from the twenty lashes she took whilst in Narbonensis for attacking my lord just after she was taken, and another twenty-five that were given for an escape attempt in Gaul." He considered a moment, "That was almost two moons ago."

The Empress was stunned. The slave had taken ninety-five lashes, - And who knows how many other beatings, - she thought as she eyed the purpling flesh across the shoulders where she had been struck just a little time ago, and her spirit was still unbroken, "No wonder Julius has a fascination with you," she purred, motioning the guard to allow the tunic to drop as she moved around to stand before the taller woman again. "You, I think, are his ultimate challenge. He enjoys a challenge, you know, and I think you are going to afford him many, many long hours of pleasure as he amuses himself in slowly taking you apart."

Xena quirked an eyebrow at her, but said nothing.

"It will be interesting to see how long you can withstand the pain. I think I will enjoy seeing you broken ... you really are far too .. arrogant. But I think I may be able to help my husband to remedy that. Men rely much too heavily on inflicting pain. There are more subtle measures that I will suggest to him." She smiled dazzlingly at the warrior, "Purely the duty of a good wife helping her husband to .. umm, shall we say train? .. his property."

She watched her 'preys' face for some moments, then, getting no verbal or physical response from Xena, the mistress of the house swept from the room leaving the captive warrior alone with her guards, who were relieved that the strange confrontation was ended.

"Come on you," snapped the decurion, tugging on the collar chain he held, "Let's get you down to the baths."

Xena shuffled quickly to keep up with the pace of the guards, her movement hampered by the shortness of the chain between her ankle cuffs. - Another enemy, - she told herself, - I really need to talk to Gabrielle about how to win friends and influence people, - she mentally smiled. - Then again, I'd settle for talking to anyone friendly .. even Joxer. - She shook her head at that thought and found herself whistling his impossible theme song as she headed for the baths, leaving the surprised guards to wonder what had put their difficult charge into such a good mood.