“And in the heat of summer, too.” Stefan shook his head. “Must have been a task to hold the men in.”
Ah! Xena gave her detested land toady a friendly, loving grin. Great opening.
“My men?” Bregos snorted. “Nah. They take discipline to a fault. No troubles there.”
“Really?” Stephan frowned. “How odd! I was just hearing the other day…”
Xena mentally applauded. “Yes… “ She drawled softly, drawing their attention to her. “Stefan’s right. I was hearing just the other day myself about some bad behavior in the barracks.” She visited a warm smile on Stefan, who perked up as though she’d tossed a coin at him. “Very disappointing.”
Bregos sat back, at once on the defensive. “Mistress, I’m sure it was nothing. Just some overblown horseplay!”
“So you did hear about it.” Xena leaned on the arm of her chair. She caught the now subtly rapt attention from the rest of the table on them. “Mm.. I heard it was more than that. Almost a riot, in fact.”
“Yes!” Stefan interjected, not one to lose a rare opportunity. “Yes, your majesty! That’s exactly what I heard! That the men went wild, and broke up half the barracks!”
“Mm.” Xena nodded sagely. “Very… very.. disappointing.”
Bregos tugged on his beard, caught very offguard. “Ah, well.. Mistress.. “ He made s show of shrugging casually. “Twasn’t so much of a deal. Just some high spirits. You know how the men get, so competitive.” He said. “Pride was involved, and what more can I say?”
You can say your prayers, baklava for brains. Xena settled back in her seat, raising the her voice just slightly. “Ah yes, pride.” She stated. “Perhaps, but destruction of my property is not subject to pride or any other excuse, Bregos.”
The general eyed her warily. “But, Mistress…”
“Nor can we allow the men’s spirits that kind of freedom.. don’t you agree?” Xena drove right over him. “It looks like we can’t control our troops, and what kind of example would that be?”
Bregos blinked at her, unsure of what her aim was. “Well..”
Xena tapped her steepled forefingers against the bridge of her nose, letting her silence force him into an equal silence. “We have to keep them occupied.” She finally said, as though coming up with the plan in that instant. “We’ll have a tourney. Your troops, against the defense troops who stayed here. That way we’ll let them run their pride out against each other.”
“Oh!’ Stephan sat up. “Why, your Majesty, that’s brilliant!”
“Of course.” Xena replied, with a smile. “Don’t you agree, general?”
Bregos looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded firmly. “As the good duke says, brilliant, Mistress. It’s a perfect idea, and the men will all love it.” He agreed. “The more I think on it, the more I marvel at your wondrous leadership.”
Around the table, heads nodded. “Excellent plan, my liege.” Lastay said. “Shall we make it a festival? A celebration would be very well received, I think.”
“Why not?” Xena gestured at him. “I love a good party. Stanislaus?” She turned and as expected, found her seneschal at her shoulder. “Make plans. We’ll use the field by the river.”
“As you wish, Mistress.” Stanislaus bowed, and left.
Xena watched the buzz spread, seeing approval and some excitement in the faces surrounding her. And why not? A celebration was, in fact, in order to honor the good year they’d had, and Bregos successes among other things.
“A truly excellent suggestion, Mistress.” Bregos rumbled, leaning closer to her. “I welcome the opportunity to show off my troops talents.” His eyes had a definitely smug crease around them. “And I know my men will enjoy it as well.”
“As will mine.” Xena drawled softly “They love a challenge.”
“Of course, we will take into account that we are at an advantage…” Bregos countered. “After our recent victories, naturally our field seasoning will tell. But still, it will be a good display.” He picked up his cup and sipped from it. “I am looking forward to it, indeed.”
Gotcha. “Mmm… perhaps.” Xena allowed. “But after those incidents in the barracks, I would have to wonder about… discipline.”
“Mistress.”
“You know how much I value discipline, Bregos.” Xena put a touch of ice in her tone. “It disturbs me to think there might be those who wear… my… colors who lack it.” She turned and studied him at close range, noticing again the slight twitch at the corner of his left eye. “Am I understood?”
His nostrils flared. Muscles on his cheek tensed. “Perfectly, Mistress.” He kept his surface calm admirably. “I will make sure… very sure.. that my men know exactly where they stand on that.”
Ah. Xena felt the challenge in the words and it excited her. “Good.” She settled back, watching benignly as the servers approached with dessert. The nearest one knelt before her, offering up a tasty looking confection that glistened with honey. “My compliments to cook. Pass it round.” She ordered, watching the man straighten and go to the end of her table with his serving companion.
It was a routine, but one she varied unexpectedly. They would start with one end, then the other, always serving her somewhere in the middle. It would be difficult for any one attempting to poison her to guess, and because she constantly shuffled her table companions, one might end up poisoning his patron if he wasn’t very canny.
The servers reached her and deposited a nice chunk of pastry on her pristine plate, bowing low before moving on. Xena broke off a bit of the corner and nibbled it, delighted with the sweet, nutty taste. She focused her hearing around her, picking up bits and pieces of excited and pleased speech, most talking about the festival in an atmosphere that had relaxed considerably.
Only Bregos, to her right, radiated subtle tension, and Xena noticed he was picking at his sleeve, a nervous habit odd in such a large, robust man. He seemed deep in thought.
Xena blew in his ear, making him jump in his seat and gasp. She chuckled as he gathered his composure. “You need to relax more, Bregos. One of these days you’ll worry yourself into an ague.”
Forcing a smile, Bregos took a piece of his dessert, and visibly shook off his troubles. He turned to listen to a question from his neighbor, leaning away a little from Xena’s chair.
Definitely improves the atmosphere. Xena finished her piece of cake and delicately licked her fingers. In the momentary pause, a thought suddenly popped into her head. Wonder what Gabrielle’s up to? She licked her thumb, feeling curious about her curiosity. Bet she found another closet to clean. Her eyes drifted to the door, and she chuckled softly. Hope she doesn’t find any unexpected skeletons in it.
**
Gabrielle collapsed onto her cot, resting her damp head against the wall in exhausted relief. She’d worked hard all day long, and just before dinner, she’d been disconcerted to find Stanislaus arriving to inspect what she’d done, prowling around the queens’ quarters with a meticulous eye.
Which had eventually turned on her. “You have done well.” Stanislaus had told her, sounding more than a touch surprised. “She is pleased with you.”
Not really sure of what to say to that, Gabrielle had merely nodded.
“Incredible.” Stanislaus shook his head. He lead her over to a brass bound wooden chest tucked into a niche in the inner hall and opened it. Reaching in, he sorted through it’s contents for a moment, then pulled a bundle of cloth out and handed it to her. “She said to provide you with this. Apparently her majesty believes you clean so industriously, you will require more clothing.”
And with that, he’d left.
Gabrielle rolled her head to one side and put a hand out, letting it rest on the pile of cloth she’d put down on the cot. It was two more sets of sturdy tunics and aprons, though these were rich blue. She’d also discovered two pairs of warm leggings to go under them, and most incredible, a pair of serviceable, though worn leather boots.
“So weird.” She spoke to the blank wall opposite her. “I have more clothing right now than I ever did in my whole life, and I’m a slave.” Her fingers stroked the fabric, releasing a faint scent of sun warmed cleanliness to her nose. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be, is it?”
Her mind went back to Xena’s words to her, about how if she did her work, she’d be fed and clothed and taken care of. “Well.” Gabrielle kicked her bare feet out a little, the cool air raising goosebumps on her newly bathed skin. “In a way, she was right, but she forgot to mention the little stuff, like being given to the soldiers to take to bed, and getting whipped for talking too much.”
She’d felt even more out of place down stairs, during dinner with Toris and the others. Even they plainly resented her, and it was obvious to her that their experience was far more grim than her own.
Part of her wanted to feel bad about that, but another part of her reasoned that she really didn’t have much of a choice, did she? She hadn’t picked herself to come up here, and while she could have done a lousy job and gotten kicked back to the kitchens or worse…
“Why should I?” Gabrielle looked plaintively at the ceiling. “It’s not like this is a real picnic. I work hard.” She said. “I have to put up with threats of dismemberment if I don’t do the right thing, and scary visits from her Majesty.”
But. Gabrielle pushed herself to her feet and exchanged her rough work tunic for a shift, neatly folding the shirt and putting it onto her box. She sat down and pulled her new clothes over, curiously tugging on a boot to check it’s fit.
“Hm.” She wiggled her toes. It felt strange, and sort of nice to feel the confines of the leather around her, and though worn, the boots were well made and sturdy. She removed the boot and set it down, then turned and lifted the lid to her box, putting her new clothes away.
Then she turned and stretched out on her cot, exhaling in relief at just being able to lie quietly still. The stuffed mattress under her back felt good, warming to her skin and giving way just a little as she wriggled into a more comfortable position. She pulled her blanket up over her and relaxed, letting her mind wander a little for perhaps the first time since her capture.
Of all things, she found her thoughts focusing on Xena. It shocked her, and she put it aside, focusing instead on her poor friends downstairs and her sister. She closed her eyes and tried to remember Lila’s voice, her face.. and she was shocked to find how hard it was. Already memories of her sister were fading a little, not much, not that she’d forget her, but even the horror of her violent death was losing it’s charge as she focused on staying alive herself.
Gabrielle wasn’t sure if she should be ashamed of that. She loved her sister, and she missed her terribly, even though of course they’d fought sometimes, and had the usual disagreements that sisters have. If they had been home, right now, what would they have been doing?
The torches outside her nook fluttered. “Sleeping.” Gabrielle whispered. “Sleeping, with mama and da in the next room, and the lambs outside.” Her eyes searched the ceiling. She might have been up, though. As the eldest, she sometimes hoarded those moments late at night, after a hard day’s work, to release her thoughts into fantasy and imagine a different world, a different life for herself.
She’d wanted to be a traveler. A wandering teller of tales, seeing the world and roaming it’s limits.
“So here I am.” Gabrielle heard the mockery in her own voice. “I wanted to go somewhere different, and look where it got me. This is different, all right.”
She heard the light scuff of footsteps approaching, and fell silent as she listened. The steps were light, and rhythmic, and the faintest rustle of fabric accompanied them. Gabrielle felt her heart speed up, and she wondered if it might be Xena on her way back from dinner.
The steps paused outside her nook. Gabrielle craned her head and peeked at the door, to see a tall, dark haired figure leaning in it watching her.
Okay. So what the heck was the protocol when the queen appeared in your bedroom and you were in a nightgown? Jump up? Bow? Roll out of bed? “Hello.” Gabrielle murmured, not at all sure of what was expected.
“Was that you talking to yourself?” Xena asked.
She knew she was blushing. “Um.. yes, I guess it was.”
“You guess?” The queen’s eyebrows lifted.
“It was.” Gabrielle admitted. “I was just.. working things out. Telling myself little stories, that kind of thing.”
“Ah.” Xena edged further inside, leaning against the wall. “Don’t tell me you’re a storyteller. Are you?”
Lying down was putting her at way too much of a disadvantage. Gabrielle sat up in her bed and wrapped her blanket around her, as she faced Xena. “Oh, not… I mean, just little tales, kid stuff.” She explained. “Just to amuse my…” She had to paused. “My friends.. at home. My sister, when we were out tending the sheep.”
“Hm.” Xena appeared mildly intrigued.
Gabrielle still felt a little awkward. She didn’t have any chairs, so she couldn’t ask Xena to sit down, and really, did queens just wander around the halls visiting slave quarters anyway? She gazed at the tall woman, noting the sleek, catlike grace as she moved. “Wasn’t really anything.”
“Probably not.” Xena agreed. “You’re not old enough to know anything really interesting.”
Gabrielle frowned slightly.
“But, it’s been a damn long day.” The queen went on. “I had other plans, but I’m going to go remove this excuse for clothing and you, my little friend, are going to come up with a story to tell me.” Xena grinned at her.
“But..” Gabrielle started to protest, but found herself staring at a blank space on the wall. Xena had simply vanished without much of a sound, leaving behind her the faint scent of honey and sage. “But I don’t have any stories I can tell you!”
She only thought she heard the echo of a chuckle answering her.
**
Not long after, somehow, Gabrielle found herself seated on a small, padded stool next to the fireplace she’d cleaned that very day. Her exhaustion had been conveniently washed temporarily away by nervous terror, and she was glad she had a few minutes to gather her thoughts while Xena was undressing.
She’d done the reverse. Gabrielle had taken advantage of her new clothes and slipped into a pair of the leggings with one of the blue tunics over it, the warmth making her feel a little better.
Just when she’d been getting comfortable, Xena had to shake her up again. Gabrielle felt a vague sense of resentment, at being capriciously hauled in to provide the queen entertainment after her long day. A soft sound made her look up, to see Xena emerging from her dressing chamber, clad in a soft gown gathered at the waist with a casually tied belt.
Gabrielle blinked at little. She’d never met anyone before who had legs that were quite that long.
Xena dropped into a chair by the fire, draping one of the aforementioned legs over the arm of it and leaning on the other. “All right. Amuse me.”
Gabrielle took a breath. Then she released it. “What… um.. what do you think is funny?”
It wasn’t the response Xena had expected, apparently. Her dark eyebrows both lifted. “What do you mean?”
“Well.” Gabrielle tucked her bare feet up under her and rested her forearms on her knees. “When I used to tell stories to my friends, sometimes what I thought was funny, they didn’t.”
“Ah.” Xena studied her. “Try me.”
It was so hard. Gabrielle tried to reach back and make contact with the young girl telling stories in the barn she knew she’d been once. But when she did that, images of home, and her family came back to her with vivid intensity, and instead of humor all she could feel was pain.
It was overwhelming. She bit the inside of her lip and blinked, as tears filled her eyes. After a moment, she knew it wasn’t going to work and she reluctantly raised her head, looking across the fireplace to find Xena watching her with a curious expression. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Xena queried.
Gabrielle took a shaky breath and wiped her sleeve across her eyes. “No.” She murmured. “It..um.” She sniffled. “Reminds me of home.”
There was a soft creak as Xena shifted in her chair. “Thought I told you to forget about all that.”
“I know.” Gabrielle gazed at her. “But.. it’s not that easy. I wish I could forget.” She felt the words tumbling out. “I wish I could close my eyes and not see my sister die, or hear my parent’s screaming as they burned, but I can’t do that.” She felt the tears rise again and she fell silent.
Xena got up. Gabrielle flinched instinctively and leaned back, watching the tall woman approach with a mixture of fear and anxiety.
But Xena only crouched next to her, close enough for Gabrielle to see the sparkles of candlelight in the paleness of her eyes. “Was your sister the one in line right before you?”
Silently, Gabrielle nodded, caught in her gaze.
Xena stood up and walked past her, past the small table over to the now shuttered windows. She opened the shutter and looked out for a moment, then turned and perched on the sill. Gabrielle had half turned to watch her, and now they simply looked at each other across the length of the long room.
Xena folded her arms over her body, her face cool and dispassionate. “I saw my mother killed.” She remarked, almost conversationally. “Wasn’t something I forgot.”
Gabrielle was caught almost breathless. Just when she was totally convinced there wasn’t a human bone in this woman’s body, she turns around and says something like that. “Then..” She heard the husky note in her voice. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” Xena asked.
Gabrielle simply looked at her, knowing the tears were trickling down her face.
“Order all of you killed?” The dark haired woman exhaled. She pushed away from the window and returned to her chair, settling in it and adjusting the edge of her robe with two long fingers. “It’s not your place to ask me that, slave.”
Somehow, Gabrielle kept her eyes level.
Xena’s lips twitched, slightly. “Because you were of no use to me, and I wasn’t about to pay keep for useless mouths.”
Slowly, Gabrielle’s eyes dropped and settled on the floor. “My father said that once.” She whispered. “About a litter of puppies.”
Xena was absolutely silent for so long after, that Gabrielle finally lifted her head again to see what the woman was doing.
But she was simply sitting there watching Gabrielle. Finally she spoke. “And because if the slaver took you on from here, the next stop was where he’d sell you all into a riverfront whorehouse, where you’d have been screwed to death in about a moon.”
Gabrielle froze motionless.
“So I killed him so there wouldn’t be any more kids dragged in here, and decided there were better ways for you to die than starvation in the wilderness.” Xena arranged her hem again, glancing idly down at her knees. “That’s why.” She watched Gabrielle’s face with interest as the girl’s eyes slowly dropped and her thoughts focused inward.
“Oh.” Gabrielle murmured.
“I could be lying.” Xena remarked. “Maybe I just did it for fun, to hear the screams.”
Gabrielle looked at her.
“Power makes you do that kinda thing, Gabrielle.” Xena lifted a hand and closed it into a lazy fist. “Maybe I did it just to torture you.” She suggested. “You have to decide what the truth is.”
Gabrielle hugged her knees and rocked slightly, ordering her very chaotic thoughts. It was all too much after such a long day, and she found it virtually impossible to concentrate.
Xena got up again, but this time Gabrielle didn’t move back. “Go on.” She told the girl. “I’ll give you another chance some other night.”
She didn’t stop to even think about it. Gabrielle was just grateful for the reprieve, and she picked herself up and did as she was told, keeping her head down as she got to the door and went through it.
Xena looked at the closed door for a moment, then she released an oddly held breath. The entire scene bothered her, and she took the time to sit back down in her chair and figure out why.
She was very surprised to find that she couldn’t.
**
Gabrielle curled up on her cot, still in the clothes she’d put on to go into Xena’s chambers. She was cold, and the cloth barely helped her shivering, nor did the blanket she had tucked around her. After a few minutes, though, she felt the chills abate, and her body relaxed against the mattress.
Slowly, she unwound her thoughts. What had just happened in there? Her chest hurt, from the whirl of memories the scene had stirred up. Xena’s words had stung like chips of slate, and her soul was bleeding from them.
You have to decide what the truth is. Gabrielle heard the echo in her head. “How can I decide what the truth is? You could say anything. How would I know?”
Gabrielle thought about what Xena had said.
She thought about Lila.
She thought about home.
She thought about that little girl who used to tell stories.
Gabrielle knew she could never get any of that back. Lila was gone, home was gone, and she could no longer even imagine being that little girl.
Could she?
You have to decide what the truth is. Her eyes closed, as she thought.
Maybe the truth was that everything had changed, and if she wanted to live, she had to adapt to those changes. In a way, the cruelty of Xena’s order to leave her past behind had at it’s kernel a grain of kindness.
Of truth. Just like Xena’s blunt telling of her ruthlessness had that same grain of truth that burrowed under her skin and itched at her consciousness.
Damn it! Gabrielle thumped the mattress with her fists. She wanted so badly to hate Xena. She wanted to blame her for all the bad things that had happened to her, and focus on her, on that tall, superior body all the anger pent up inside her.
But.
You have to decide what the truth is. Hating Xena would not bring anything back to her. Not Lila, not her home, not her life. Hating Xena would only make her life worse. So if she had to decide what the truth was, she also had to decide how she would accept that truth.
She could embrace the hatred, or she could embrace the truth, and move on.
Gabrielle felt sleep crawling over her with a sense of inevitability. Truth would, she decided, have to wait until tomorrow.
**
And so it did. Gabrielle woke the next morning feeling surprisingly well rested. She quickly lifted her head and looked at the door, afraid she’d overslept, but the dim light coming in from the high tower window reassured her it was still before sunrise.
She got up, rubbing her arms in the chill, and slid her feet into her new boots before she stood up. Not having her bare soles touching the cold rock enabled her to warm herself a little as she moved around her little nook.
“Brr.” Gabrielle washed her face and hands, and ran the wooden comb through her hair. She eyed the pale lengths with a scowl, then decided to tie them back.
It was early enough for her to take a walk around her small tower kingdom, so after she straightened her clothing out, she eased through the narrow door to her nook and into the tower proper. It was very quiet, the torches burning low only faint whispers of sound. Even the stairway down to the lower levels was dark and silent, it’s lower door firmly locked against intrusion.
Gabrielle walked around the perimeter of the tower, touching the hanging tapestries with curious fingers. They smelled of age and wool, but the colors woven into them were still vibrant and pleasing to the eye. The tower itself, she’d soon realized, only had three entrances. One was the narrow stairs down to the kitchen. The two others lead out onto walkways that connected the tower to the rest of the stronghold. The queen’s quarters were, in a very real sense, isolated in this island of stone.
Purposefully? Gabrielle spared a glance at the iron strapped wooden door, that led into the inner hall of Xena’s rooms. To set herself apart here, in her tower, away from the terrors she sat in judgement over?
Gabrielle’s fingers trailed over the wood as she thought about her encounter the night before. She ended up at the door to the walkway, and she tested the latch, a little surprised to find it easily worked under her touch. She pushed the door open, sucking in a breath of cool, fresh air.
Outside the door, the stone walkway stretched, ending in another barred entry on the other side. Gabrielle eased out and walked along it, tipping her head back to see the dark sky slowly giving way to the faint gray of dawn on the horizon.
She went to the edge of the wall and rested her elbows on it, peering over. On this side, the walls overlooked a precipitous drop, the mountainside the stronghold was built on dropping down to meet a fiercely rushing river below. Everything was green, and as she looked out there were fields and pastures that stretched out for leagues, surrounding small clusters of homesteads.
It looked… nice. Gabrielle rested her chin on her wrists. The land appeared rich, and well tended, and there was just an air of order about it that she found very appealing.
So different than home. Potadeia had been a farming village cut into the scrub on a rocky piece of the land that only gave up it’s resources grudgingly. Her family, and the others had struggled against nature, and fate every year to scratch enough subsistence together to stay alive. The sheep had been their most precious resource, the animals able to stay alive on harsh grasses far better than the cows, and pigs some around them had tried.
And they’d been so alone. Only a few small villages nearby, and most of them in the same dire straits. All of them subject to raids by whatever local brigand groups were nearby and wanted a free meal, or a free roll in the bedfurs.
If she’d been home… if home had still existed, what would she have been doing? Gabrielle exhaled into the dewy air, seeing just the faintest hint of her own breath before her. She would have been getting water, under her father’s critical eye and Lila would be hauling the wood in, both of them hoping to get to breakfast without causing a tirade.
So.
Gabrielle looked around her, at the towering stone walls, and the richness of the land. Was this better or worse? She pondered, then turned and went to the inside wall and looked over. She could see the inner stronghold from here, the yards and the work areas. But not the kitchen yard, nor the slaughteryard her sister had died in. She peered over and watched the stablehands emerge, two of them walking large, beautiful horses obviously well tended between them.
A soft, melodic voice rose, as one of the hands sang to his charge, and Gabrielle could see the big, black ears tilt to listen. Past him, she could see a wagon being unloaded near the storeroom, and now the dawn air brought to her the sounds of the stronghold waking up and starting it’s day.
Gabrielle put her chin down on her wrists again.
**
Xena sat in the windowsill of her practice chamber. She watched the slight figure down on the walk move from one wall to the other as she struggled to decipher what on earth the kid was up to.
Unable to sleep, she’d gotten up candlemarks before, and decided to work off her restlessness instead of tossing and turning. Now, tired and rid of the nervous energy, she found herself presented with the enigma that had caused her unrest in the first place.
Xena leaned back against the stone, and rested her sword across her upraised knee. The hilts brushed against her chin and she could smell the tang of brass and leather. Her shoulders ached and she could feel the sweat now drying on her skin. She wanted a bath, and yet she sat here and watched this little blond creature, wanting to know what she was doing, and more importantly, what she was thinking.
Maybe that was the difference. Xena blew softly on a spider, swinging it away from her head and sending it scurrying for it’s web. There was something going on inside Gabrielle’s head, something she couldn’t figure out.
That really bugged her. She kept thinking she knew where Gabrielle was coming from, had her nailed down as to her motives, and where she’d jump next, and the damn kid kept proving her wrong.
Xena pondered the object of her attention, watching as Gabrielle stepped back away from the wall and tilted her head, turning her eyes to the sky. Even from here, she could see the questioning in the motion, as Gabrielle searched the heavens for meaning just as she was searching her for the same.
The coming dawn outlined the girl’s profile, which Xena found to have a pleasing symmetry. There was also a gentleness about her the watching monarch realized she liked.
Then the girl squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath, her hands flexing into loose fists and then relaxing. She turned and headed for the door, oblivious of the eyes watching her.
Suddenly, Xena wanted to know what decision it was that had been made. She eased off her perch and sheathed her sword, making for the hidden door to her aerie and heading back to her quarters.
Дата добавления: 2015-09-29; просмотров: 32 | Нарушение авторских прав
| <== предыдущая лекция | | | следующая лекция ==> |