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Higher Wisdom - Cont'd

It was dusk when they reached the outskirts of Amphipolis; she recognized the stone bridge, high arch, thirty feet above the copper-green river. Just like she remembered, yellow daisies growing between the cracks, and it looked like it was ready to fall down. But Xena'd told her, 'Arches are stable, Gabrielle. That's why they use 'em." If Xena trusted it, she would too.

Nothing, far as she could see, had changed: Cyrene's inn, still standing apart from the other buildings; two story house, fronted by a long low tavern , shuttered doorways with slats still askew. She'd always wondered how Xena could leave a mother who so clearly loved her, forgave her almost anything. Looking at the unchanged village square, she realized she was maybe understanding something about Xena, for the first time.

Same old sheaf of wheat, in a milk-can set by the door, opposite the brass mirror. And light, everywhere: barred windows along the length of the tavern; candles on tables, candles in a triple-alcove; torches, in black-tipped bulls-horn cups, set on every pillar, as though there were some deep darkness whose descent Cyrene was constantly trying to ward off.

She's just setting fruit on the long serving plank; turns at hearing them enter, and rushes forward for a hug.

"Gabrielle! You're safe. Xena was so worried about you. She told me to give you 'a mother's welcome' when you got here. I've been saving the best room in the house. Who's this woman with you?"

Cyrene breaks off the hug, before she was even finished; steps back. Hades; she didn't know how to get out of this one.

"Cyrene, this is my traveling companion, Agape. Agape, this is Xena's mother, Cyrene." They nod at each other, no more.

"Well. I don't have another room." Cyrene had clear ideas about propriety.

"We can sleep together. I mean, we'll share a bed."

"Not in my inn, you won't, Gabrielle. She can stay for supper, but after that I expect her to find another inn."

It could have been worse: Cyrene could have been friendly, could have asked where Agape was from; she wasn't in a mood to go through the goddess act again. Cyrene, brisk and angry, shows them the room, leaves. By the time she's washed her face, changed into a robe, dinner for two had arrived: a young boy brought several plates, on a large tray. Cyrene had indeed done the mother's welcome thing: pepper-hot lamb patties; dissecting the sauce mentally: she could taste cumin but the other spices were unknown to her. Cyrene had found large artichokes; stuffed with cheese and rice, blending into something rich and creamy: that, at least, she could maybe do. Finally, fresh figs, slitted lengthwise then stuffed with a heavy, clotted cream, the whole floating in a wine/honey sauce. Too sweet, heavy, but Xena musta liked that kind of thing. She wasn't sure if there'd be a cook in the palace at Samothrace; otherwise she was going to have to learn a lot in a hurry; it was all so different than what they ate on the road. Being married was different from being best friends: all of a sudden, she'd have to know everything about Xena.

Once again, Agape was completely silent, refusing to eat, and she, tired of her moodiness, doesn't even try to talk. After dinner, she pulls her side of the bed covers back: she could smell meadow in the sheets; they were new, must have been freshly changed. Goppie sits distant on the edge of the bed, until she reaches a hand, brings her to her, the goddess resting her head on her shoulder. Her own feelings were so complex as to be senseless: she felt as though she were holding her sister, and she shifts, begins massaging her scalp, humming a tune she'd used as a lullaby for Lila. Yet on her arm was an immortal being, one who'd offered her immortality. Faith: holding Agape, in Xena's birth-house, she felt nothing like an incarnation of faithfulness.

The goddess sighs cuddles close, placing a palm against her chest. Hard to believe: it was probably the first time she'd ever had a massage. Everything about a real relationship would be new to her: it was like dating a girl who'd just had her first-blood ceremony. There was something very wrong, in all of it.

"My tummy hurts."

"Serves you right, for eating what that woman cooked. Anger isn't a good spice."

"She isn't a bad person, Agape. She just thinks we're lovers." Oh, no . . .

"We were lovers, Gabrielle."

"Forget it. I'm going to find Cyrene, see if she has something to quiet my stomach." She rises, takes the dinner tray.

"Fine. I'm going back to Olympus. If I haven't missed my dinner already. "

She finds Cyrene in the kitchen, stacking the last of the cleansed dishes, jumps right in. "I was wonde ring if you had anything for my stomach. I didn't know how spicy the food would be: I do all the cooking, for us." Emphasizing the 'us' maybe a bit too much, but Cyrene does give it tiny smile, before her face shuts down again.

"Don't let Xena ever cook for you; she hates doing it. You know how some women spend all their time cooking, they learn every dish they can? Xena spent her time learning to ruin everything; I think she was hoping I'd never ask her again."

"But she does do all the hunting, for us."

"Hmmm." Cyrene hands her a glass of what looks like fermented juice: it was fizzy, and had a light alcoholic taste.

"Agape's just a friend, Cyrene."

"It's no business of mine what Xena does. She used to come home, when she was twelve; I could see she'd been fighting, out with the village boys again. But she wouldn't tell me anything." Cyrene takes a seat, by a large arched fireplace, the cooking fireplace; Gabrielle rises, then sits across from her, on the floor. She wasn't thinking: Cyrene would see the scar. Tries chin on knees, reaching down to cover it with a hand: startled, she looks down.

"What's wrong with your ankle, Gabrielle?"

"Nothing." And there wasn't: the scar was gone. "I don't know what Xena told you about me, about why I'm here. But one morning she just left me, to go to Samothrace; she didn't even tell me why. And I've spent the last nine days traveling, so I could see her again. I don't even know if she'll still be there, Cyrene. If she is . . . I don't want to be apart from her ever again."

Cyrene loses a little of her fierceness; again, she was beginning to understand things, about Xena.

"Gabrielle, I don't know what you did, to earn Xena's loyalty. But if she said she'd be waiting for you in Samothrace, that's where she'll be. And she will be faithful, Gabrielle. I hope you can say the same."

Xena wakes with Istis between her and Kleis. It was strange; she liked feeling her lover's warmth next to her, when she woke. Even feeling Gabrielle's warmth. But having Istis was beginning to feel good, too.

Fully awake: temporarily; if Kleis was going to stay with her, Istis would have to start being a big girl, and sleep by herself. Soon.

Air clean and cool: she'd take Argo for a gallop, on the beach., before breakfast.

Kleis yawns herself awake; leans over the still sleeping child, kisses her good morning. If nothing else about their relationship was clear, at least that'd been established. "What's on for today, love?"

"Prepare for the banquet tonight."

"Uncle wants me to see Stepissos; I think I better do that alone."

"Fine with me."

"Someone's going to have to be with Istis."

"Can't: I've got way too much to do. Go to Mentor's; then over to Samothrike, see Herse." This couldn't be happening.

"Good, because both of them love having her around. I think Mentor always wanted children of his own. Anyway, I packed a bag for you; it's got diapers and it's not like I'm asking you to wash them; just change her, Xena."

"No."

"Xena, I told you that being with me came with responsibilities. Istis isn't someone you can just run away from; you're part of her family, now." Kleis is standing, arms crossed, over her. She hated new mothers, she really did.

"Gabrielle will be here tonight. Are you coming back here, after Stepissos?"

"No." She bends over, check's Istis' bag. "I told you, I expect you to spend the night, with Gabrielle, here. Don't ask again, Xena."

"Will you at least come to the wedding? I need you to be there."

"Alright. But don't expect me to meet Gabrielle."

At least Kleis wasn't deserting her; she'd made that much progress. "What does that mean?"

"Figure it out, Xena." And then turning her back on her, Kleis leaves the campsite.

Herse's shop brought her, again close, to the palace walls. The gates had been repaired, and she could see trash hauled out, for a bonfire.The wedding, tonight.

"Xena! My woman. When you gonna start spendin' the nights here?" Recognizing her by her footsteps, before she'd even entered the shop. When she does enter, Herse looks up, then smiles. "Oh, Destroyer of Nations: what you wanting, today?"

Looks quickly around: all her wares stacked on high shelves. Back exit, to a small open square of land, fenced, where the furnace and woodpile were. Furnace not in use; no glass on the ground: she sets Istis down. "Funny, Herse. Kleis is busy and she's mine for the day. Are you coming to the wedding?"

"Hmm." Herse bends down again, to continue polishing a small piece of glass, held between pads in a wooden vise. She releases it, holds it to the light: a bottle stopper, formed into the hilt of a sword. Faceted, to take the light; there was even a small red bead, inside the hilt.

"Nice. What is it?"

"Love-gift, for my friend. Xena, you are making a mistake; I don't lie to you. Marry Gabrielle, tonight."

"I didn't ask." Small-island life was worse even than Amphipolis: everyone knew her business.

"Hmm."

"Issie! Stop!" She's out the door, into the alley. She thought it was a game: she'd tickled her the first time it happened; only trying to make it more fun but Kleis was furious. Whatever she tried, Kleis wanted different. Back in the shop, she holds on to Istis' hand, which satisfies her for the moment.

"Did you get the commission, for the gold?" Herse needed to learn to focus on business.

"One piece in every one hundred. Rest, I gave to Mentor."

"Two pieces, Herse. The artisans need to know I pay well. We talked about this."

"Hmm. No bargaining, Xena: I come to your wedding, only. Otherwise, you be off this island, tomorrow dawn. Even then, I come after you."

Interview concluded, she turns to go. "It's going to be hard for me, tonight; I need you there. Thanks, Herse."

"Time to change diaper."

One last stop: Mentor's estate. She finds him on the porch, laying bricks, hands grayed with mortar. Looking up, he smiles, opens his mouth to speak

"Don't even think about it." It would be hard to draw her sword, with a baby at her hip, but not impossible.

"Xena, didn't you ever learn to change a diaper?"

"No, but I can lay bricks. Trade ya." Mentor wipes his hands in a rag, takes Istis. He was smiling, and she could see his joy in the child was genuine. Good: she needed a break; could only play with the baby so long, before it got to her.

"You got the gold?"

"Started renovating the palace three days ago. Herse's being difficult about the commission, though." She couldn't believe it: the man was laying Istis down, untying her diaper, all the while tickling her stomach. And Istis was giggling; she screamed when she tried to change her.

"Tell you what: use the extra to buy her a larger shop, nearer the center of town. And get her some apprentices."

He looks up from wiping her little buns. "Herse's a proud woman, Xena. You can't run her life; it isn't right and anyway, she won't let you." He pauses from the lecture, "I made that mistake, trying to give her money. Almost cost her friendship."

"Then set it up as a dowry. Being satrap has to have some privileges."

"You're doing fine. Stepissos still worries me, but the artisans are all on your side. The wedding feast tonight will help seal it."

"Mentor, I'm not the one getting married; Gabrielle is." She can see him open his mouth, quickly shut it, recognizing her glance. Curse it: she'd almost had the first brick leveled. Mentor, anyway, had the diaper changed and was hiding, then showing, an orange to Istis. How people thought of those silly games . . .

"You're making a mistake."

"Doesn't anyone on this island respect my position? How did you hear about this?" She was angry, now: only a handful of people knew, and she'd thought she could trust them.

"We're loyal, Xena: no-one betrayed you. But . . . most of us have known each other for years; we have something more than loyalty to the new satrap. It's called friendship, love. We'd like, all of us want, you to be part of that too, Xena. When you're ready."

"I thought I could do a brick faster than you could change her. Looks like I was wrong. I'd be proud to be your friend, Mentor." She offers him her hand, but he hesitates, and Istis looks, confused, between them, aware, somehow, that something was wrong.

"Will you promise me? To give Gabrielle a last chance?"

"It's up to her. Not me."

She wakes to rain: thunder rumbling gently in the distance, like the purr of a cat. Or the rumbling of Xena's stomach in the morning. And tomorrow morning, she'd get to hear it again. She lays back down, pulled by the bed. Best room in the house; she could lie there all day, dreaming about being with Xena again.

Or maybe not: the earlier she left, the sooner she'd be there. She can see the mountain from the bedroom window: rising misted in the distance. The rain made it seem more like dusk than dawn, though really the sky was suffused with light, everything standing out, more itself. She was impatient for it to be over, to be on Samothrace, whatever that was going to mean.

In the kitchen, preparing breakfasts already, Cyrene won't let her help. She'd warmed to her, stayed up late, telling her stories of Xena's childhood. It was clear Cyrene knew what was really happening between them, though she wouldn't say the words. Without Xena there, she felt useless, but Cyrene informs her that the boat wouldn't leave 'till the rain had let up more. Stuck; Cyrene offers her grains, served with warm milk, and honey on the side. "Xena's favorite but she won't admit it; she thinks it's only for children. Make it for her anyway, on rainy days."

After breakfast, she wanders into the empty tavern again, looks out onto the patio. The inn had a wonderful view: elevated, overlooking the ocean. Cyrene had decorated it with amphorae, filled those with flowering plants and even rosemary, herbs, and they seemed to overflow even the larger vases: a kitchen garden, right outside the window. Tables, painted bright: blues and yellows; she watches water pooling, and droplets, all lined up in a row, collected underneath the tables, dripping. The bright colors looked flat, dull: it was like a wedding banquet with no bride.

The rain lets up right after noon; Cyrene sends her off with a large basket of food and even some clothing. She didn't really believe Xena would wear the white cotton night-dress, but she could try. An intense hug; no goodbye, simply 'Take care of her. She's all I have, Gabrielle.' She realizes in Cyrene's heart, she's just married Xena. There seemed no turning back.

Less than an hour, following the river down to the port; three times as long finding a boat that would carry her and Athanike. Agape shows at the last minute, then all the prices had to be renegotiated. The waves were still high; rough trip ahead. In the distance, grayed out, the bulk of a hill, coming right down to the sea then plunging straight in; clouds hugging low, concealing even its low summit. The dulled sun throws silver underfoot, on the waves, and she boards. Leaving behind all she knew, to keep faith with Xena.

Agapestands, watching Gabrielle: back to her, one hand on a gunwale, the other on the thick ropes staying a sail. The sun, setting against their course, throws off a ray, and it diffracts through Gabrielle's fine hair: for a moment she can see all the colors of the rainbow, haloing her.

Watching; in a few hours she wouldn't have even that. A demigod alone in a world of mortals, deserted by wisdom . . . all that remained was feeling. She could feel the future, like when she felt a burning in her face and knew tears would start. Inside her, in her breath, her heartbeat, she felt, she knew, Athena's will.

The ship takes a wave, plows through it: prow heaving up and she slips, falling back against a pile of rigging, she feels the sharp sting of a rope burn on her forearm, checks: skin white and spotted with blood. Waits . . . and down, deck tilted forward; water splashes cold and salty, stinging but she watches, eyes on Gabrielle, who steps back but keeps her balance:

"Goppie?" Gabrielle turns, reaching a hand down to her: "Goppie? I don't feel so good. Hold me?" She takes the hand, pulls herself up, stands, puts a steadying arm around Gabrielle's waist. So here it was. Athena gone, but she knew; knew she would do something wrong and it would involve Gabrielle and if possible she would hurt inside more than she already did. Why was it always Gabrielle?

Sliding her hand along Gabrielle's arm, feeling the bumpley skin risen against the cold, she shifts off her cloak, puts it over Gabrielle's shoulders.

Gabrielle turns to face her: lips lightly red, face wet with salt water, hair beginning to mat against her temples. Wearing a golden labrys, double blades dully reflecting the last color of the sunset. "Just another hour."

"Will you marry her?"

Gabrielle, surprised, half turns her head, leans into Agape's body. Sudden warmth and the smell of laurel . . . throwing her back in time, two days back and she remembers:

Gabrielle's soft, thick hair resting against her cheek: the smell of laurel, traces of vanilla and lavender. Leaning back against the cold, uneven plaster walls of the servant quarters, she closes her eyes: focusing on Gabrielle's scents, she can almost forget the smell of rancid wax from the cheap servant's candle. She'd washed that hair in the stream, dried it, sneaking in a scalp massage, watching Gabrielle relax, smiling up at her, in the light and warmth of afternoon. Now that warmth was in bed with her, and as Gabrielle leans back, her lips move though the veil of hair to touch Gabrielle's neck, and she hears a small intake of breath . . . . aching yet it was the most wonderful thing she'd ever felt: holding Gabrielle was an entire universe, and she was lost in it.

Gabrielle moves away from her, only to turn: stripping off her tunic, she kneels, offering her nipples, just before her face. Something was wrong with her breathing, her heartbeat: feelings intense beyond understanding, beyond control; wet, for some reason, nipples aching, she looks up, into Gabrielle's face: not excitement, nor gentleness, but determination. Pulls Gabrielle to her: "My love."

"Goppie?" Gabrielle turns, steps away as the boat moves through another wave. Looking at Agape: the demigod seemed disoriented, not quite all there. Typical. "Are you alright?" She places a hand on Agape's forehead. "I think you've got a fever."

Agape steps away from her, "Yeah; I'm fine. Really." Then gives a silly grin. "Sorry. Didn't mean to call you that."

"It's fine by me. Just . . .well, don't let Xena hear you say it." Now she was starting to feel confused. "Maybe it isn't fine. I don't know, anymore."

"Are you in love with her, Gabrielle?"

Damn Agape; she wasn't letting go. "That's a strange question."

"Yeah, right Gabrielle. You've been on the road the last nine days; you board ship, just to meet her in Samothrace. We'll be there in an hour. Are you in love with her? Are you going to marry her?"

The bow dips again and she feels her stomach rise, fall with it. "Please, Agape. I really need you to hold me. " Closing her eyes, trying to be somewhere else, anywhere but on a small boat bound for Samothrace, she focuses on Agape's warmth, the rhythm of her own breathing. Relaxing, safe in her arms, Gabrielle falls, back.

To Agape, Gabrielle seemed to just disappear. All she could feel was the motion of her chest, breathing. Whatever she was thinking about, it wasn't pleasant . . . she was panting now. Athena, of course, thought everything was simple: "Feel the woman's mind. Get on with it."

So she'd felt: a mind full of Xena, feelings, images of being protected. And lust, but fear, too. Which was plain stupid, if Gabrielle only knew how pathetic Xena looked, doting on her.

She'd guessed that feeling minds was easier if you didn't have your feelings too. But then, who knew: maybe Athena wanted her to hurt. She tried to imagine some project on Olympus where Athena volunteered to find out about love and rejection and hurt.

She supposed it could have been worse: Athena could have been interested in slavery or maybe torture, the non- emotional kind. And she had gotten the chance to learn about food, and being bitten by bugs and oh right, sex.

Getting dark; soon they wouldn't be able to see. Leaning back against the railing, holding Gabrielle, Agape wonders what it would be like, when she merged again with Athena. Would she remember that fruit tasted sweet and warmth made you sleepy; that watching Gabrielle next to Xena was an emptiness like hunger? Or if she remembered, would it all not matter, and there'd only be Purpose, Athena's overwhelming light?

Being a demigod, she realized, made you fatalistic. Maybe Gabrielle had the right idea: return to the past.

But Gabrielle was free, could make her own mistakes. She felt like when Salmoneus had brought the wine, that first night at Aegisthus' palace; they'd finished it and Gabrielle lay asleep next to her, head cradled in her arm. An insistent kind of feeling, in her stomach; a feeling that everything was not going to be fine.

"Come on, Gabrielle. C'mon back." Strokes her arms, until she feels Gabrielle stir. "You OK? You acted like you passed out."

Gabrielle rests a cheek against her chest. "I was thinking, remembering." Drawing Agape closer, "Thanks for holding me; you were just what I needed."

Which only made it harder; she was going to hate this part. "So, you still owe me: I asked if you were in love with Xena. You said it was a strange question." Couldn't see her face, still buried in her, so it'd be tricky . . .

"I think I've always been in love with her, even when we just met."

Thank you Athena, that was just the opening she needed. "So why, of all the people walking the face of sweet Ge, would you marry Perdicus?"

"You think that I even knew? That I could have told Xena? She'd have laughed at me, Agape. Laughed and left me."

Darker now, the water grown choppier and Gabrielle thrown back against her, then forward. Soon, now, she felt it. And in the meantime, hoping Gabrielle could maintain some equilibrium of her own. Speaking as softly as she could, still expecting to be heard,

"On Olympus are eight spirits we call the great gods. Zeus, the primal force that moves the universe; Athena, the wisdom that guides it. And Among Them, Gabrielle, is Aphrodite. Most mortals think see her as vain, empty-headed as a kitten. So, why do you think She's one of the great gods?"

If it had been possible to shrink away within herself, away from her encircling arms, Agape had no doubt Gabrielle would have done it. The question clearly bothered her, but, then, that was the idea.

"I guess love is . . . elemental, too? Because it can be like lightning, and thunder. At least . . . sometimes I felt that, with Xena." She pauses, then turns in her arms, faces her: "I think I'm scared, of that part." Tries burying her head deeper . . .

Letting go, Agape steps away, to the side. "That's part of the truth, at least your truth. But for everyone, Gabrielle, love is sacred: you don't lie, even to yourself. You bring it as much purity and honesty as you can."

Pausing, to let that sink in, looking at Gabrielle's empty face, she reaches, removes the cloak she'd given her. "You can lie to me, now. Or tell the truth; no-one cares. But tonight you'll stand before Athena. Don't even think of lying in Her presence. Do you understand, Gabrielle?"

"It feels like everything I've been, who I thought I was . . . was a lie." She shakes her head, and it seems to make her eyes glisten. Very soon, now.

"And that includes me, Gabrielle? Was I a lie, too?"

Perfect: Gabrielle steps back, backed up against the mast. Athena would be proud. But then, being a demigod, she'd gotten good at being a realist.

Standing alone: Gabrielle finds she can stand, supported by the mast. If Samothrace was much further, she wasn't going to make it. Caught between the open ocean and an angry goddess: she looks up again. Agape, self-contained, smug, proud of herself. And another wave hits. Xena'd said the seas were rough . . . the boat twists, but she keeps her feet.

"Were you a lie?" She walks, she finds she can walk, unsupported, if she was careful: she walks till her breasts almost touch Agape's. "You made love to me, Agape; you know I wanted you. You're the one who lies about it."

"I had no choice in any of this; I didn't come here to be your lover, Gabrielle; I came because Athena wanted me here, and the moment she's done with me, I'll be taken back. So save it for her." Agape steps back, then puts the rigging between them, glancing quickly to either side, almost, almost like she wanted an escape.

"Another lie: if it was like you said, we wouldn't be talking. We would never even have been lovers." Agape stops looking around, then bites her lip . . . and looks back up, fearful. She'd said, it was the only thing she was ever scared of. And she was right, too: this would hurt.

"You always had a choice, Agape; you could have tried. All this time you held Athena in front of you like a shield, and you kept me away, so you wouldn't have to get hurt. But it wasn't Athena's will, was it? You made the choice; you decided I had to be with Xena. It could have been with you, Agape; I was ready for it to be with you."

She stands, alone, watching Agape cry, wishing there'd been a way to make it easier.

There was no way: this, this moment, was the choice Agape had made. Unfair and cruel, but all of it her own making. "C'mon. Let me hold you. It'll be our last chance."

She was surprised when Agape nods yes; even hears her choke, a little, like she was going to talk but couldn't trust her voice yet. And so she held her; they braced each other against the swaying of the ship. While Agape's head lay on her shoulder, she looked ahead; they were passing a point on the north coast and there was a lighthouse, right at the very furthest tip of the promontory. As the ship passed, she could see all the way up; it was a jumble of heavy boulders, white, like the sea-bleached skeleton of a giant sea-monster had washed up there. But she knew in her mind all it meant was that the whole thing had been built as a breakwater, an artificial harbor. The lighthouse itself was made of real brick, not just local stone; a Persian design, and there was a little light, coming from the top floor; there'd be more, when night finally fell.

"Goppie? we're almost there; we'll be docking in a few minutes." She feels her nod, then she withdraws and her warmth is gone. But so are the tears; her face is calm; calm as she reaches hands behind her neck. She thought she was going to bring her in, for a kiss; it would be their last. But she's tickling the back of her neck . . . no. She was loosing the cord holding her labrys.

"The golden butterfly. You won't need this, anymore." Wraps the leather cord around the haft of the ax, presses it into her hands. "Please keep it, Gabrielle."

Agape presses her hand closed, then, taking the hand, leads her to the prow of the boat. Crowded, their bodies pressed together in the narrow wedge, Agape points: Samothrace loomed blackly in the distance. Torches on land: by half-moon and torchlight, she discerns outlines of harborworks: a few docks, leading directly to rock, and then by narrow paths, to a few small wooden buildings. Persian harborworks, for the tribute ships.

Stepping on the plank, she spots a group of five horses, hesitates . . no sign of Argo. Looks down: reception committee. Five men, standing before her. She hurries down the plank, Agape in back. The oldest of the men looks at the others, then nods, "Gabrielle. Lady Xena sent us to greet you and your companion." Torchlight allows her to make out the gray in his black beard, but his posture is young, confident. The others seem . . . more timid. He's dressed simply, but for a woolen cloak held by a heavy gold lions-paw clasp at his neck. She didn't have to ask: it was the symbol of the Persian royal household., a gift from Darius. "I'm Mentor" he nods, then turns: "this is Gyrian, and Eumaeos." The other two were obviously servants . . . but she takes their hands, smiles at them. Earning an amused glance from Mentor, and she has a chance to observe his smile. It was wonderful . . . patient, amused . . . fatherly.

"Lady Xena asked us to escort you to the wedding banquet. Unfortunately, this has been very sudden for all of us, and the palace isn't ready. The previous occupant left in a hurry. I would be honored, of course, if you and your companion stayed with me."

"We don't need an escort; I think we can find Xena ourselves." Glances back at Agape, notes Athanike being walked, slowly, down the plank.

"Pardon me, Gabrielle. We're very glad that both of you are here . . . but not every landowner shares our joy. There's a price on your head, and Xena's as well. Lady Xena charged us with escorting you safely back, and that's exactly what we're doing." Then he smiles again, instantly reassuring her. "And I'm not foolish enough to cross Lady Xena."

"Where is she? Why isn't she here to meet me?"

Mentor looks troubled by the question. "I could say she's preparing a wedding feast for you, but that really wouldn't be accurate. By having us escort you . . . and having you be escorted, she's establishing your position, and ours, on the island." He hesitates, "Tonight, you would have been safer, surely, with her alone: she has a reputation and no-one would dare challenge her. Over the long run, however . . you must be able to move safely through the island, on your own. This is a start."

It wasn't quite as she'd imagined it . . . she'd had an idea of being swept up in Xena's arms, lifted onto Argo, a fast ride to a palace. An entire night alone, and she could begin telling her all the things she could never say before.

Romance died hard. "This is my companion, Agape. She'll ride with me. Are we all unloaded? Then let's start."

"One moment, please. Unclasping the cloak, he removes, offers it to her. At his belt, a golden-hilted dagger, again face of a lion. "Samothrace is much colder than the mainland, Gabrielle. If you'll allow me . . . "

She does allow; turning, she lets him put the cloak around her shoulders. She felt safe; everything was going just right. And Xena was preparing a wedding feast. She was excited, but tried not to show it.

Themen and retainers leave for their horses; Agape ignores the hand she stretches down from Athanike. "Ah . . . Gabrielle? This is a good time for me to leave. Athena will be meeting you later, and"

"No. I was listening, you know, when you said about trust. Any reason I should trust Mentor and his gang?"

"Right." Agape falls in on herself, slightly. "But I'm not staying; you know that, right?"

"For tonight. Now, c'mon up; hold on."

Escorted, two ahead bearing lanterns and three behind, they follow the northeast coast. The road is flat and clean, allowing a fast, hard ride. Still, she watches as star after star rises in the cloudless night. The half-moon over the mass of Fengari gives shapes to the darkness; dim shapes looming and gone, cutting her off from the landscape. Glad for Mentor's cloak, but the neck clasp was inadequate; cloak flapping behind her and she suspected, riding at full speed she must have looked like a soul lost, escaped from Hades. Then Agape gathers in the cloak, and arms encircling her, adds hands clasped around her waist.

"Goppie!"

"Louder! I can't hear you."

"What's that?" Pointing at a white mass standing out from the blackness of trees, the forested slopes.

"Temple of the Great Gods."

Glad, finally, that Goppie was escorting, guiding her, even glad to feel her hands carefully placed at the belt on her waist.

"Great Gods?" It was the sea, waves crashing on the eastern shore, not so much the wind, blocking her voice.

"They have their own religion, here. Sacred Mother, Dioskouri. Sacred mysteries."

"What's it like? The initiations?"

"Don't know. Athena isn't too big on it, Gabrielle."

"But they accept Zeus, right? And Athena?"

"Ah, well, no. Not really."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with why we're here, would it? What Athena wants?"

"She didn't say."

"That's really helpful, Goppie. You could at least lean up closer."

"You said not to. Said you didn't want me all over your back. If I remember."

"It's cold. You didn't tell me it was going to be cold."

"Oops."

"What do you mean, 'oops'?"

"Ah . . Athena said . . . she thought . . ."

"So you just forgot to tell me a few things. The cold. The Dioskouri. The price on my head. A few things."

"Oops."

Yet she didn't feel angry. It didn't make sense . . .

Excepting that the lie was no surprise: they really had no basis for trust, and honesty had meant nothing to either of them. Riding headlong to meet one woman who'd walked, silently, out on her. Guided, held, protected by another who'd quietly manipulated her, made love to her, just to bring her here.

'You can lie to me, now: no-one cares.' Like a voice from the shadows.

Perdicus' simple innocence and trust was far across the waters, like her family, everyone she knew: something she'd left behind, on the mainland.

'Maybe I'm not the type who makes vows. And keeps them.' Another voice; startled, her own mind playing tricks on her: in the dark she was hearing the voices perfectly, even above the waves.

Ahead of her, dim shapes of her escorts, white: looking spectral, lanterns flickering.

'it's you who made the choice' she'd told Agape but it really was herself: she was with exactly the women she'd chosen.

Lights drawing closer, like spirits in the dark come to claim her she inhales to shriek

"Gabrielle, rein in! They're slowing!"

Almost panicked but she does; draws close to Gyrian and Mentor. The older man turns in his saddle

"Gabrielle. You don't look well. Are you cold?"

"A little. I . . . I got frightened." She laughs, a little. "Thought I saw spirits."

"Ah. We passed the temple of the Great Gods, Gabrielle. It affects some that way."

"Mentor! You're scaring her." Gyrian, drawing close. "There's nothing in the temple to fear, Gabrielle. He's making up stories for mainlanders."

But Mentor remains somber. "You're not an initiate; what would you know?" Then, turning back to Gabrielle:

"Death; descent into the underworld: transformation and rebirth. There's a great deal to be frightened of here. I'm glad you experienced it tonight. A good omen for your stay here." He pulls up his reins, suddenly, steps the horse back.

"There's a turn ahead, then we go up the mountain a bit. Tricky road; we'll go single file. Slowly; there's many switchbacks. And if we're to be ambushed, here's where it'll happen."

"Couldn't we just stay on the coast?" A long slow ride with Agape, more hours away from Xena: she'd thought she was there.

"There are no easy approaches; the land itself fortifies the palace. Let's get moving."

The ascent is tricky, and, tho she hears no more voices, she recalls Agape's words: 'Gabrielle, love is sacred'.

"Agape?" They were drawing inland, and she didn't need to shout; she was too loud.

"Yes, Gabrielle?" She'd leaned forward, pressing against her back, whispering in her ear, breath tickling the hairs on her neck.

"No more lies between us."

And then she's gone, the feeling gone: no. No: Agape's hands still circled her waist,

"Sure, Gabrielle." Laughs, laughing gleefully and maliciously. "Wow! Wasn't that easy. Who knew?"

"Alright." She breathes, to steady herself. Breathes in the night air, moist and heavy with violet. "Alright, Agape. Here come the hard parts. No: don't interrupt me. You can talk *after* I finish, and I'll let you know when I've finished."

Pause: no interruption. "I love you, very much. But I'm in love with Xena and I'm going to marry her; I want to spend all my life with her. I know this is hard for you. Now: you can talk."

But she doesn't. Mentor, signaling: they stop, listening. Just wind. Crickets; there shoulda been crickets . . . he lets down his hand and they resume, turning steeply uphill, rocks blocking their view. It could have been an ambush.

"Part of honesty is talking, Agape. Telling me what you feel. Or is it still too easy?"

"I hate you for making me feel this way; I hate you for loving her instead of me."

"You're crying." She tries to put her hand over Agape's, but it's flung off and she drops a rein . . . Athanike doesn't falter.

"I know I'm crying, Gabrielle. How do you feel, Gabrielle? Knowing I used to love you and you made me hate you?"

"I don't know. It doesn't . . it doesn't feel real. I wished we would be friends."

"Friends! Sure Gabrielle. After Athena's finished with me, we'll be great friends. And you can tell me all about what it's like making love with Xena instead of me."

Nothing to say. She feels

"I hope Athena takes me away forever."

Agape leans forward again, arms tightly closed around her, sobbing. Quietly; Mentor doesn't even look back, but Gabrielle feels the sobs. Absurdly helpless: to look at her, to stroke her face, to hold her. Making progress, coming to an understanding with Agape, was like trying to use an oar on dry land.

Another pause, and the road switches back again. She can see ahead, for the first time: they're climbing up to a plain. The road still narrow and rocky, but clear.

When the sobs stop she feels the motion of Agape, wiping her face. Her time, the last time they had: "I love you; remember I'll always love you."

They ride, silently, towards two flickering lights: torches . . . along a great wall: ten foot high, ragged stone at the top, stuccoed outside, the torches flank a stone gate: heavy stones and iron set in . . . then they're through, into a large courtyard. Large stables to the right; left: a bonfire, and rows of torches along a two storied windowless building. Looked like tile roof, finely worked.

She couldn't make out faces, but didn't need to; Xena still stood above the crowd around the bonfire. It was home, after all: she hits the ground running, laughing. Collides into Xena . . . who gives her a quick hug, 'Hey, Gabrielle" releases her, and turns to Mentor, behind her.

"Thanks for keeping them safe." and she grasps his arm, and he hers, almost man to man but she smiles warmly, genuinely at him, then Xena turns, lifts Agape off the horse, giving her a quick hug too. She takes both their hands, drawing them away from the fire. Under the torchlight, a long row of tables along the palace, towards a group of people standing apart. Releases them, hand at her back and she's being pushed forward. "Got some people I want you two to meet. The palace isn't ready yet but these are the ones who'll help you settle in."

She looks, interrupts "Salmoneus?"

"I was here on business and I heard the name Xena so I came as fast as I could." With that he kneels, kissing her hand, "And your gorgeous companion must be . . . Agape?" She in turn reaches her hand

"Xena?" She was walking away, but turns her head, calls back "Got to talk to some people; Sal will tell you everything."

"No, wait!" but she's gone and Salmoneus is talking. "This is Neaira; she'll be managing the palace." A tall, rather thin woman in widow's black, gray hair gathered in back of her had but Salmoneus is talking again "And this is Deiarus, who's doing the interior decorating, I hired him myself. The finest"

"Salmoneus, stop! I don't care about the palace or the designer. I'm tired and we're hungry and all I want to do is see Xena. Where is she?" She turns, looking around but Xena has disappeared. Salmoneus is saying something, of course he's saying something "Salmoneus! Shut up. Where did Xena go?"

"I don't know; she's probably helping arrange the banquet" and he's laid his arm on her shoulder; she twists, "Stop it! And stop . . bubbling at me. Goppie: stay here. I'm finding Xena."

Mentor is with a group of men, three men she doesn't know, laughing. They fall silent as she approaches, and he bows. "Gabrielle. May I introduce . . . "

"Not now, please. Have you seen Xena?"

Mentor turns his head; looking at her with genuine concern he takes her elbow, guiding her away from his companions. "You seem upset. Would you like me to help you find her?"

"Yes. Please. I really need to talk with her. About something."

Arm in arm, they walk back to Athanike, at the stables. Argo, fully saddled. No Xena. "She said she'd leave early, but . . . wait: I have an idea. By the tables, an old friend of mine."

Led back to the banquet tables, passing platters of semi-carved boar, small birds, stuffed, bowls of olives green and black, and finally two large platters of barley; food she has no time to even smell, she's led

to a . . . woman, back to them. Her hair gorgon-like, thick, wrapped, twisted into itself and she turns to them. Black: her face was black and at the center of her hair a gold pin. Demeter glistens and her hair glistens too, twined with bits of colored glass. Her mouth opens redly in a smile, as she recognizes Mentor, holds a hand to him, laughing.

"Mentor! My favorite man. Who is this, you brought me?"

"Herse. Gabrielle. You . . . "

"Ah, Gabrielle. The bride." She smiles and, looking down at the table picks up a flask, hands it to her: golden, still warm, from warm golden oil, she wraps her fingers awkward around the flask. "I made it for you. A wedding gift from Xena."

"Herse: Gabrielle is looking for Xena. Have you seen her?"

"Yes, just a little time ago. She had a torch and she was going . . . come, Gabrielle. I will take you to her." Herse reaches out her hand, taking hers as she holds the flask in the other, as she's led away, along the palace wall, through crowds of people she doesn't know, here for a feast she doesn't understand.

"Herse?"

"Yes?"

"Me ntor is wonderful, isn't he?"

They stop before a massive wooden door, scorched. Ajar, permitting entry; no torch but, hand still firmly held, they slide into, through, the dark interior of the palace.

"Hmmm. Five years ago, I came here. A slave, ma'am; they took my family when I was ten and took us to Persepolis. Sold me to the satrap and here I came."

Dust. And something rotting, something dead; she gags slightly. Ahead, a bit of light: trips over garbage on the floor.

"I'm . . sorry. Did you . . is your family here?"

"No, ma'am. Mentor is my only family; took me in, gave me money for my craft. Glass; for generations, my family has shaped glass. And my daughter; one day I will have a daughter and she too will learn."

Stepping though a doorway, door itself standing alongside, unhinged: they're in the central courtyard. Light from a torch, at the other end . . . Herse's hand is gone; Herse gone. At the other end of the courtyard, dim under a single torch, Xena and another woman, seeming to flicker in and out of shadows. She walks carefully over the flagstones, eyes focused on glimpses of the other woman, hair piled on top of her head, blonde hair, one hand on Xena's shoulder.

Watching Xena, Xena holding a dark-haired child, straddling Xena's hip, gathered in one arm. Girl, two-year old; sleepy-eyes. Xena intent on child alone, ignoring her:

"Xena. Say Xena." Gentle.

"ee" The young woman giggles, and the child turns to face her, Gabrielle. Curls its hand grasping the leather over Xena's breast, a tiny finger pressing into her breast.

"Xena." The mother, turning the child's head away. "Say Auntie Xena."

"een" then grabs on to her hair, pulling hard. She wanted to smile; Xena winces slightly, hands the child back to its mother, then sees her, eyes widening

"Xena? Why are you hiding back here?"

" I wanted privacy, Gabrielle."

"I need to talk with you."

Not even answering . . . Xena turns back to mother and child. "Maybe we can talk tomorrow. Give Istis a goodnight kiss for me." And the young mother steps close to Xena; hugs her. Xena . . . brings her closer, hesitant hand lifted to the back of her head. Then "Goodnight, Kleis." in Xena's low voice, the voice she always used to say goodnight and it shocked her, hearing it out loud like that.

Scene nicely played; she didn't even know how many actors. Kleis breaks slowly from Xena, then moves past, twisting her body to move past; hitting her elbow with the child's leg and she can see Kleis' face, smiling. Immediately as she's gone

"What do you need, Gabrielle?"

Moves close; Xena, stepping back, closer to the torch: backlit, can't see her eyes, barely her face, Xena making her face expressionless.

"Why are you hiding from me?"

"You got what you wanted. I left ya to be with Agape, didn't I? And you got your wedding. But don't expect me to stay for it." Xena turns her back, and she rushes to her, pulling at her shoulder

"Xena, listen to me. I want you; I" But Xena turns and turning, takes her arms,

"You sleep with your little goddess. You think" menacing, Xena shakes her, pushes and she drops the flask, high sound against Xena's low anger. She kneels; lavender and oil and a shard long as her finger, lying in the mossy emptiness between stones. Picks it up, careful, standing before Xena, gaze on glass reflecting fire. "Look what you did, Xena."

And Xena: shocked; a look more empty of emotion than any she'd seen

"No!" She takes Xena, pulls her to her; Xena, open mouthed and empty looking at her.

"Xena. I love you; I've always loved you. Don't go away."

But Xena is unyielding, rigid under her. "I came to be with you" pressing her body into Xena's, head between her breasts, hard with her armor "I missed you every night; it was so long and it hurt so much. Don't ever leave me again."

"No." Xena's body tense.

"I want you to marry me. Tonight, Xena. I won't ask again."

"No" she feels Xena's hand at the back of her head. Safe if she was careful she'd be safe.

"My love, we don't have to marry; just" but Xena's gulping air; she was going to cry

"Just take me where we can be alone; make love to me" pressing her groin against Xena's hip

"Gabrielle!" Shocked: Xena stepping back and she presses, pushing her body until Xena's forced to sit against the fountain; glimpse of yellow and green flowered tile, of a three- headed fountain: lion and bull, and Xena's face warm under torchfire.

She sits, straddling Xena's leg. "I dreamed about you" Teasing, eyes closed she puts breath behind it "You made love to me all afternoon. Make it real, Xena." Musk smell strong and it's working on her instead of Xena; setting her head on Xena's shoulder and Xena buries her, enveloping, stroking her.

"Kiss me?"

But she doesn't; drawing back, Gabrielle looks into Xena's eyes. A moment: Xena's hand stroking her cheek: torch along her face, finger across her lips: muscles out of control she tightens on Xena's leg; she feels it, knows she feels it because she smiles. Gabrielle leans forward, enters her enters their kiss.

Not enough time, and she leans in for more; pressing deeply into Xena's leg: now it's worse; kisses Xena, upper lip between hers, she pulls weakly away. Xena's hands move down her arms, spreading arousal like an ointment, as she loses her own will, closing her eyes she slides down and Xena's kissing her again, back arched but it only presses her deeper into Xena she opens her lips and offers herself.

Xena closes her legs, forcing her to move off; sliding sideways but Xena catches her hip, leg; picks her up. Legs gathered, thighs squeezed together, she could almost come, but Xena only holds her.

"Xena: make love to me."

Held motionless, held still in Xena's lap; in frustration, tears. She'd lost her. Crying in shame, as Xena holds her to her heart.

"After we're married, Gabrielle."

Quiet: the first silence she'd heard on the island. Gentle rhythm of Xena's heart, rustle of leaves maybe rats running through to the palace. Peace . . . she'd let go of peace; given it to Xena, to return her.

"Hey! You two." Startled to choking: Herse. "You still have a wedding banquet: bride and bride, come with me." Herse draws close, kneels before: them, another flask in her hands, now pressed into her own.

"My wedding present, Xena. For you two."

Leaning further into Xena, holding it up: golden, again, but the glass is iridescent, all the colors of the world and it flows into her hand, is perfect in her hand.

"How did you know? How does it know my hand?"

"I saw you in Xena's eyes. Not all mysteries are revealed, little m'shenge." Herse stands, walks away, a step, then turns: "Follow." Then she's gone, simply gone.

"Do we?"

"Yes. Herse will tell Mentor; I think we have to. Gabrielle . . . do you really want to be married?"

"Xena! I asked you first."

"I need to know." She did: face waiting, as though she'd held her heartbeat, waiting.

"I . . .. Yes, Xena. . . . Yes."

"Then let's go face them."

Swinging her legs up, out and she's up, pulling Xena up, looking around. "This'll be nice for us. I'll plant some trees, for shade. We could have breakfast here, good weather. Is that our room?" Pointing up to the dim second story, a balcony.

"Don't know. Gabrielle, I didn't want to think about it."

"Let's explore tomorrow, ok? And get some trees; maybe a fruit tree. Over here . . . "

Arm at her waist "I may have made the biggest mistake of my life."

"That was Poteidaia; you were lost the moment I saw you. Just yield to it, Xena. Anyway, herbs: I see a kitchen garden. Your mom was really sweet, Xena. But I'm a better cook. You'll see."

"Gabrielle? Shut up."

"Kiss?"

"No. After we're married."

They leave the palace by the main entrance, Xena pushing back the doors, opening them wide. Agape is sitting, back in an alcove, with a plate of

"Goppie! That's a serving platter. Where'd you get all that food?"

"Told you I liked this stuff; probably my last chance for it. Anyway, guests are supposed to stuff themselves. Not the brides, though."

"I'm sorry that happened. Really I"

"Forget it. Almost made it all worthwhile." Agape sets the platter down, stands, offering her hand to Xena. She reaches out in return, but instead of taking the hand, Agape moves into her; standing tip-toed, hand on Xena's shoulder, she kisses Xena.

"No hard feelings?"

"No." Xena uncharacteristically gentle, as though charmed by her innocence, and Agape leans up for another kiss, on her mouth. Neither fast nor slow; lingering . . . Agape breaks, turns, walks away with no goodbye.

Watching Agape recede, "Xena? That was just rude. And what's this kissing lips?" but no reply and she looks up: Xena is crying. She starts to tremble, taking deep breaths for sobs and she falls to one knee; she with her, holding her, arm around her waist: "Xena? What's wrong? What happened?" but her other leg folds and she falls on a thigh; then, slipping from her arms, lies collapsed on the dirt, sobbing, drawn in on herself.

"Xena!" Helpless to comfort her, she looks up: Mentor and Gyrian running, then Herse appears above, Herse sitting in the dust, taking Xena's head in her lap; Herse whispering: "Agape."

Then she's up, running; "Agape!" and she catches up, takes a shoulder trying to stop, to turn her but the goddess is immovable, continuing on her path. She lets go, runs ahead to stop, to face Agape.

"Yeah, Gabs?"

"What did you do to her?"

"Let her know what it feels like, losing love. Why? This make it more real to you?"

"Take it away. Let her go; it wasn't Xena's fault."

The goddess smiles on her. Says nothing, but, smiling

"Beg."

She nods, no choice do but to yield, she bends one knee and then she's held, stumbling on one foot, colliding into Agape before she can right herself, holding her waist.

"You would, wouldn't you? You don't even care how stupid you look, following her everywhere. Alright, Gabrielle."

Agape pushes her away, then grabs her wrist, hurting her, pulls roughly, walking, dragging her back towards Xena.

Pushes through, kneels, takes Xena's head. "Let me through. Herse: she's mine." The three of them, surrounded and Agape releases her hand, lifts Xena to her feet. Knees dirty, covered with dust but Agape's gathered her in with one hand, the other moving across Xena's forehead. She lets go and Xena stumbles into Mentor's arms.

And the goddesses attention turns to her.

She steps back, tries to, but Agape ga thers her in; she's facing the goddess, looking in her broken gray eyes, wincing at a touch on her forehead; fearing her touch, she holds her breath, closes her eyes.

Love hits her; doubled over with the intensity of its loss, she wants to cry out but the breath is knocked from her. Then it fades like a cramp and she can stand straight. Xena looking, looking at her, while she tries to gulp air.

"Xena! Are you alright?" It was Mentor. "What happened?"

Looking through tears: Agape, standing apart. Soft, like butterfly wings soft Agape's voice "nothing happened" and then the goddess is gone. Herse leads Mentor away.

Xena draws her close, arm around her waist, and she's free of Agape.

"Gabrielle? Next time you have an affair, do it with a mortal, alright?"

"Can anything else go wrong tonight?"

"Worry about *that* after the ceremony."

Standing together, facing the main gate, Xena's arm around her waist: possessed; she felt like she was being shown off.

She takes time, to look around the courtyard. An easy dozen grooms at the stables, dressed mostly in faded browns, playing a catch game with a leather nosebag. Scattered widely, dark lumps of horse dung; equally scattered, clumps of nobles and landowners, conspicuous in their wildly colorful clothing. Then villagers, the craftsworkers, like Herse, dressed in loose clothes, solid colors. She didn't consider Salmoneus' presence a good omen; all in all it was a good deal less romantic than her first wedding.

Facing it: this wasn't romance. She'd fought to win Xena; tonight she was claiming her prize. Xena as much a trophy as she was Xena's possession: a felt symbol of her power. Taking Xena's waist, she pulls her closer, smiles up at her: a quiet moment of shared triumph.

"Alright, Xena: let's do the ceremony. Mentor! Gyrian, Herse: come with us." Xena turns, arm still around her waist, leading the small party to the banquet tables. She stops in front of a kylix, drinking cup with two trees, symmetrically arranged in black painted on the inside, birds nesting in the branches and leaf after leaf . . . disappearing as Xena mixes red wine with water in the cup, takes it up, swirling the mixture with a practiced hand. Slows it down, steadies the flow. She puts a hand on Xena's arm, looks at her, takes the kylix from Xena.

"Gabrielle! The lord of the land gives the offering."

"Yes." Smiling, in joy or triumph, she lifts the cup high over her head and as the courtyard quiets;

she lowers the cup, swirls the wine as Xena'd done, spilling it on the ground, then projecting her voice over the crowd, as though she were an actor in some Athenian drama:

"Zeus! Gods of Olympus and Great Gods of Samothrace: protect us!"

She drinks, "Protect those we love. Protect our people, all the people of this beautiful country." Drinking again, passes the cup to Xena, who carries it to the nobles, then to Herse. The scattered groups in the courtyard draw close to the banquet tables, as expected; all but the grooms and she'd deal with them later. Xena, returning for more wine "Good stuff. Mentor's private stock."

"Good thing it wasn't wasted on Agape, then."

Xena looks at her a bit worried, then smiles. Alright. "Xena, leave that to someone else. Let's start. Stand by me, and Mentor," she half-turns to him "You too. Ready?"

"Yes, Gabrielle."

Releasing the golden lion- paw clasp, she swirls his cloak from her shoulders, back onto his. "Thank you for the protection, good Mentor. But I'm Xena's now." And facing her, lifting her right hand . . . meeting, clasping hers. Eyes lifted to her eyes: her gaze different, no longer cool assessment nor gentle love, but perhaps looking closer, more deeply. She feels known, revealed, naked; gasps and Xena nods. Mentor is addressing the crowd

"I'm not used to this . . . none of us are." Shakes his head, then "But to my mind nothing is better than when two people of one heart share a home, husband and wife, united in spirit."

A laugh; almost ruining the moment but Mentor raises his voice, rushes onward.

"These two women declare their intent to live together, to keep house, wife and wife. They stand before gods and men, noble and commoner, and ask that you honor their union. Let any who oppose it, god or man, speak now."

Half fearing that Agape would show, violets and lightning, but there's only quiet. Mentor turns to them, and they face the courtyard, hands clasped awkwardly. Mentor, kneeling "Lady Gabrielle. My liege."

Releasing Xena's hand to take his, bring him to his feet; she hugs him, wildly. Unexpected joy and a fuzzy beard against her cheek. "Thank you. Just . . . thank you."

A line of nobles already started behind him . . . oh, no.

Conclusion