For Disclaimers See Part One
"I won’t."
"You will."
"I won’t!"
"You will, Xe!"
Xena pushed aside her half-full tankard of ale and leaned forward on her elbows, closing the gap between her and Gabrielle. Why was the bard being so unreasonable about this? "I’m not leaving you here in the middle of a strange part of Athens, in a strange tavern, with a stranger. It’s… It’s…"
"Strange?"
"Very funny. It wouldn’t be safe!"
"I’ll be perfectly fine here alone. Homerita isn’t a stranger, Xena, she’s my friend." Gabrielle felt her temper began to boil over. "We are attacked on almost a daily basis, you know, and, somehow, I manage to protect myself just fine!" She unconsciously drew a finger across the rough planes of her staff, which was propped up against the wall next to her. "You’re not my mother. You don’t need to be with me every minute of every day!"
"And it’s not like this Homerita person is some bloodthirsty ex-warlord who attracts violence wherever she goes," Xena said.
"Exactly!" Gabrielle’s eyes instantly fluttered closed. She regretted the slip the second the word left her lips. Gods. "Xena…"
Only the barest flicker of pain showed in the warrior’s eyes before her jaw clenched and her gaze dropped to the table. But, to Gabrielle, Xena might as well have burst into tears.
The young blonde felt a pang deep in her chest. "Xena, I didn’t mean that." She reached across the table to wrap her hand around one of lover’s, only to have her pull away.
Xena quickly rose to her feet, sending her chair clattering behind her. "It’s fine, Gabrielle. Have fun with your friend. I’ll go… umm…" She searched her mind and came up with a well-worn excuse. "I’ll take Argo for a ride." Without waiting for a response, she pushed away from the table and headed for the door.
"It’s dark! Xena!" Gabrielle called after her friend. "Hades!" she hissed under her breath. She stood to follow her partner, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Homerita rush through the tavern door and run directly into the rapidly escaping warrior.
"Watch it…" Xena growled, giving Homerita a quick once over. A slender eyebrow lifted.
"Sor... Sorry," Homerita stammered quickly as scenes of a gruesome death (written in iambic pentameter) flashed behind dark eyes.
"No problem, buddy," Xena dismissed the bard easily, moving around the tall figure and disappearing into the night.
A short, heavyset woman made her way into the tavern, stopping at Homerita’s side. "Did you have to pick such a rough place? Why that woman looked like… like…"
"…a warrior," Homerita interrupted, drawing out the word as though it were a curse. Stories about warriors and warlords were the bread and butter of any bard’s repertoire. Still, warlords were distasteful, dangerous creatures who were unlikely to support the arts, notoriously cheap, and unpredictable at best. Not to mention sweaty. Homerita felt faint.
Thank the Gods for the Lesbos Literary Society. There Homerita was ‘safe’ from such disturbing influences. One of the Society’s most important rules was that its members were forbidden to associate with warlords or warriors. She hoped that merely running into the mysterious-looking, dark-haired woman, who was obviously one of the taboo class, wasn’t enough to call HER membership into question. Homerita swallowed hard. The Society’s members had been on the rampage lately. Nowadays, a bard couldn’t be too careful.
Gabrielle waved at Homerita, motioning the large woman over to her table, vowing to make this quick so she could track down Xena.
"Gabrielle, how marvelous to see you!"
"Hello, Homerita."
"Is something wrong?"
"Hmm...?" The bard tore her eyes away from the tavern door. "I think so," she sighed. "Listen, I’m sort of in a hurry. Can we...?" She made a vague motion with her hands.
"Of course." Homerita pointed to the shorter woman at her side. "This is Darian. And we’re here to verify your membership."
"Well, I’m a member. Consider me verified. Nice seeing you again, Homerita." Gabrielle slapped the bulky woman on the back and picked up her staff.
"Wait!" Darian exclaimed. "We haven’t ACTUALLY verified anything. Paragraph nine, clause three, line four of rule number ten clearly states..."
"Rules? What are these rules everyone keeps referring to?" Gabrielle was getting exasperated. Were there rules posted with a scroll mistress somewhere? And if so, why hadn’t anyone given her the scroll mistress’ address so she could check them out herself?
Twin gasps.
"You haven’t read the rules?" Homerita whispered.
"I repeat," Gabrielle cocked her head to the side, "what rules?!"
"You should have received them in your first batch of scrolls, not that it matters. Paragraph six, line forty-one of rule three clearly states that all members are deemed to have read and agreed to all rules, under all circumstances."
The bard put her hands on her hips and glared at the short, chubby woman. "Who in Tartarus are you again?"
"Darian. Author of ‘Ode to Plague’."
Gabrielle groaned inwardly. Tragedy writers were simply the pits.
"I can see you’re in a hurry, Gabrielle. So we’ll make this quick." Homerita wiped off her sweaty brow. "Are you of legal age?"
The bard rolled her eyes. She’d already sworn that she was. "I’m of legal age," she uttered impatiently.
Darian looked her over hard. The blonde bard did look awfully young. Of course, you could still be awfully young and be over the age of consent. With a quick nod to Homerita, Darian indicated she was satisfied.
Homerita smiled. "Good. Next, are you an Amazon or Amazon friendly?"
"Both."
"How friendly?" Darian demanded. There were simply too many closeted
Amazonphobes in the world.
Gabrielle nearly bit her tongue through. She’d had about enough of this. "Well, Darian, does this count as ‘friendly’ enough for you?" The bard leaned over and whispered into Darian’s ear, smiling smugly when it turned a bright scarlet.
"Gods," Darian whispered, her mouth hanging slightly open.
"Did I mention I was upside down at the time?"
The little verifier swallowed. "Gabrielle’s Amazon-friendly. Verrrry friendly," she croaked. "Next."
Homerita breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost over. "Last question. Are you female?"
Gabrielle snorted indignantly. She wasn’t the butch one at the table, that was for damn sure! "What do you think?"
Homerita nodded, but Darian shook her head ‘no’. "I’m sorry, Gabrielle. That’s not good enough. I’m afraid we’ll need to conduct a quick visual inspection."
"You want me to get naked?!"
The tavern broke out into applause.
"Certainly not!" Darian did, of course, but this was business. "You’ll only need to disrobe from the waist up."
"Bite me."
"Gabrielle, I can understand your modesty," Homerita inserted, trying not to stare at the bard’s skimpy, cropped top or the low-cut skirt that hugged her hips. "But these rules are really in place for your protection. We want a ‘safe haven’ for Amazon-friendly bards."
Gabrielle rolled her eyes again. These were only scrolls for God’s sake! So far, second degree burns and parchment cuts seemed to be the biggest ‘safety’ issues to have arisen.
"Please, Gabrielle," Homerita changed tactics, "I understand that Sappho read your last submission and found it very thought provoking."
Green eyes went round. "Sappho said that about my work?"
Homerita smiled and nodded. "She’s one of many distinguished members of the
Lesbos Literary Society."
Darian gasped loudly, covering her gaping mouth with her hand. "You said the name!"
Homerita immediately clutched her breast.
"You know the penalty, Homerita. To say the Society’s full name in public is to blaspheme! Remove your hand, wench!"
"NO!" Homerita cried.
"I don’t understand." Gabrielle inserted herself between Homerita and Darian, whose fingers were outstretched like pinchers.
Darian shot Homerita an evil look, but managed to address Gabrielle. "Part of our sacred rites of initiation involve the piercing of one nipple."
Gabrielle paled.
Gabrielle paled.
"We also use the nipple ring as a mild form of corporal punishment. For blasphemers!" she directed at Homerita. "And as a way of identifying one of our own."
"It was a mistake!" Homerita tried to escape, but her back was against the wall.
"Paragraph four, clause ninety-nine, line one of rule...." While Homerita and Gabrielle were distracted by Darian’s impressive recitation of the new, super-amended rules, Darian’s fingers darted past Gabrielle and found purchase on Homerita’s nipple. She gave a sharp tug. Adding a twist for good measure.
A collective gasp went around the tavern when Homerita’s breast popped out of her tunic and landed on the floor. Then bounced. Twice.
Gabrielle and Darian stared at the pig’s bladder that had been filled with sand, and had a shiny, gold nipple ring attached to the tip.
"Hera’s left tit!" Darian appropriately screeched. The small woman tore open Homerita’s tunic to expose a hairy chest and another ‘breast’. "You’re a man?"
"I... I..."
Gabrielle bent closer, noting the obvious shave line. "Uh huh." She sighed softly. This was sad. "I don’t mind the fact that you’re a man, Homerita, but why the elaborate deception?"
Before Homerita could reply, Darian raged, "Well, I mind! Liar! Liar! Pants on fire! Inflitrator! Infidel! Traitor! You’re Homer, not his hormonally-challenged sister, Homerita!" Unable to think anything else she added ‘liar!’ again.
"I think I should go now," Homer said sadly, in a voice three octaves below normal.
"I’m leaving too." I’ve wasted enough time with this ridiculous melodrama. I need to find Xena. Gabrielle took a step, but was held firmly by Darian. "Let Homer go. The Amazons know how to take care of his kind."
"But..."
"No ‘buts’. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Sappho is interested in co-writing a poem with you. She thinks you have real promise."
"She does?"
"Absolutely. Now about that piercing. I happen to have a needle and ring right here in my pouch." Darian wrapped her arm around Gabrielle and led her toward the rear of the tavern. "I can perform your rites right here."
"Sappho wants to write with me?" the bard asked dazedly, not having heard anything past those incredible words.
"She does. We need only take care of this one little bit of Society business first."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
"Zeus’ boots, Argo," the warrior huffed, while she brushed her faithful mare. "It’s not like she’s a little girl." A smirk crossed Xena’s face when she thought about how well Gabrielle handled a whip. She faltered momentarily, nearly dropping the grooming tool. "Far from it, as a matter of fact."
Argo looked back at her mistress. If it were possible for a horse to roll her eyes, the Palomino certainly would have done so. Instead, she gave a snort and slapped the warrior with her tail.
"Watch it!" Xena warned. "And be nice to Gabrielle. She likes you; she really likes you."
This only earned the former warlord another whack.
"Okay, no sweet oats for you in the morning! And I’m gonna let her braid your…" Xena’s tirade to the horse was forgotten when the stable door opened and Gabrielle stepped into the building.
"Xena." The bard’s tone was low and very apologetic.
"Yeah?" The warrior’s tone was ‘come over here and kiss it and make it better’.
"About what happened at the tavern…"
"Yeah?"
Gabrielle’s stepped closer to her warrior, but didn’t touch her yet. She wasn’t so sure it would be welcome at this point. "I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. And, I guarantee you, that’s not how I feel about you. You are the best person I know. I am so lucky to have you to love."
The pain in Xena’s expression lessened. "I’m the lucky one, Gabrielle."
"Not true."
They stood there, sharing small smiles, before Xena began to get embarrassed at the mushy sentiments. "So how was your time with Homerotica and her odd little friend?"
The bard cleared her throat, giving it a little scratch as she mumbled, "You have no idea." This was followed by the need to massage the side of her right breast in an attempt to ease a little of the pain in her nipple. "Oh, by Artemis, that stings," she growled through clenched teeth.
"What?" Xena moved toward the bard a bit. "Are you okay? Did your little drag queen friend hurt you?"
"You knew?!" Blonde brows shot up.
"Of course I knew. Sweet Aphrodite’s nightgown, Gabrielle, he had a five sundial shadow at birth. And he needed to shave his legs."
"I didn’t even…" The bard suddenly glared. "Why were you looking at her… eh… his… legs?"
The warrior coughed a bit, scratched the back of her head, and tried to focus on anything in the room that wasn’t blonde and cranky. Unfortunately, she had Gabrielle in front of her and Argo behind her; that left looking up as the only option. "Hey, look." She pointed. "A hayloft."
"Imagine that." The bard’s hands went to her hips. "A hayloft in a barn. What will they think of next?"
"Wanna go up there and play Spank the Bard?"
"Can’t." The bard shook her head.
The warrior counted on one hand and then the other, ticking off fingers and counting in her head. "Nope, not that time."
"Not because of that."
"What then?"
"This!" She pulled the edge of her top down. She hadn’t bothered to tightly re-lace it because it hurt like a week on a Roman cross.
"Why, Gabrielle, you little minx, you!" Xena absolutely beamed when she saw the silver nipple ring piercing tender pink flesh. "That’s downright…" Suddenly Xena’s mouth was very dry, and it was all she could do to contain the flare up of lust that rushed through her body.
"Gods-be-damned painful, and you’re not getting within a staff’s length of me tonight."
Xena looked to the ground as the toe of her boot kicked up a little dirt. "Even if I said I know how to make it stop hurting?"
"You’re only trying to get a little hurt-comfort action going here."
"Duh! But if you’re the one getting comforted, what are you bitching about?"
"True." The bard surveyed the loft. "Can you really make it feel better?"
"Skill number 637-a: Easing pain in painfully erect, recently pierced nipples."
"What’s skill 637?"
"Easing pain in painfully erect, recently pierced…"
The bard put up her hand. "Never mind! I really don’t want to know."
"So, how about it, my love, a little romp in the hay?"
"Shouldn’t that be a roll in the hay?"
"Sweetheart, we can roll, romp, hop, skip, jump, and frolic; I really don’t care as long as we get started. Soon."
"Frolic? You’re gonna frolic?"
"I will, if you will."
"You’re on!" The bard began climbing the ladder to the loft.
"Gabrielle?" the warrior asked, following the bard up the ladder so she could look up her skirt.
"Yeah?"
"We are gonna do this naked, right?"
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
The next morning found Gabrielle and Xena still intertwined up in the hayloft. The long hours of frolicking had relieved the ache in the young bard’s tender breast. Gabrielle wasn’t sure whether to attribute that to the application of skill 637-a, which was a very handy skill for Xena to have, the bard decided, or to the undisguised and unadulterated look of lust that overcame Xena whenever she saw Gabrielle’s new jewelry. This look managed to knock all rational thought out of the bard’s mind as she gave in to her expressive nature.
In the stalls below them, the animals were respectfully quiet. A few of the younger sheep had been scared a couple of times during the night, but their mother ewe had managed to calm them down. It wasn’t really wasn’t the way she had envisioned discussing the humans and the bees, but there had been no escaping it.
Argo snorted loudly, however, when a young rider came into the stable. He followed the discarded pieces of clothing up the ladder and into the hayloft … only to be met by the tip of Xena’s sword at his throat. He tried to ignore the fact that she was naked.
"I don’t suppose you are Gabrielle of Potadeetoo, the bard?"
"No, I am," a pile of hay answered him.
The rider looked confused. Was he imagining things? Then he noticed that buried underneath the straw was the golden hair and sweet face of a young woman. Ooh, that’s how things are. He decided to continue his conversation with the friendly hay. "You’ve got scrolls."
"Gee, what a shock."
"Where do you want me to unload them?"
"Unload?" Gabrielle echoed weakly. Why had she ever joined that list? What could they be bitching about now? Homerita. Gods on Mount Olympus! The scroll list is going to be having kittens today.
He nodded. "I have a few crates of scrolls for you. Do you want me to bring them up here?"
"No!" Gabrielle exclaimed. "Fire hazard."
Xena frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Think, think, think. "If I have to light a candle in order to read them, it might start a fire."
"It’s daylight," the warrior pointed out reasonably.
"We’re inside."
Xena gestured to the roof. "There are a lot of holes."
The voice coming from the pile of hay was annoyed. "It’s better to read in indirect light."
"How much more indirect can it be than coming through a hole in the roof?"
Gabrielle sighed dramatically, liking what that did with her nipple ring in the process. Ooh, that’s fun. Focus, Gabrielle, focus. "Xena, I would rather read them outside."
"Isn’t that direct sunlight?"
"Xena!" Gabrielle growled.
The warrior shrugged. "Fine, fine. I’ll come down with you," she said to the HSDS rider, "and we’ll put them outside the stable."
He nodded and began descending the ladder. As Xena started to follow him, Gabrielle’s voice stopped her. "Put on clothes first, Xe."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
After a few pieces of nutbread for breakfast, the bard settled down on a large boulder to begin reading the latest deluge of scrolls. Xena and Argo were looking at new tack for the warhorse. Gabrielle had given Xena a pointed reminder to buy more laces for her top, as another set had met a valiant death the evening before.
Gabrielle unrolled the top scroll and began reading. Great. It’s from Vulture. This should be enlightening – not!
Subject: Homoerectus
Well, I can’t say that I am very surprised by this turn of events. I had long suspected there was something wrong with Homerita/Homer/Homeboy. Did he ever once tell me how amazing my epic – over four seasons in the making – was? Did he ever use my scrolls as the basis for some of his discussions on this list? Did he ever say how much he wanted me in an Amazon-friendly kinda way? Did he join my fan club, the Vulture’s Nest? No! No! No! No! How much more explicit could it have been?
Gabrielle blew a raspberry, despite the fact that Vulture wasn’t there to hear it. Oh, please! You would think Aphrodite had died the way she carries on about herself. ‘As if’, as Dite herself would say. Gabrielle snickered.
The next scroll she picked up was huge. Gabrielle once again thought of all the trees that had given their lives for this, mostly likely, useless message. The world would have been better off with the trees, she bet. Great. A scroll from the very aptly named Verbose.
Subject: Plato’s Ethics (was Homoerectus)
I have sat silently –
Yeah, right, Gabrielle nearly snorted the juice she was sipping out her nose. I’d pay to see that.
– in anguish over this latest atrocity. I am ashamed. Deeply ashamed. Deeply, deeply ashamed. Deeply, deeply –
Okay, okay, we get the point. Gabrielle scanned down to where the writer began getting to her point, if she had one.
Men will always want to pose as women, as we are the superior gender. But that does not condone his vile, despicable, lying acts. I, personally, feel used and betrayed. And to think that I had considered doing a dramatic reading of some of his stories at my upcoming gig at the Sword and Staff Tavern (open seven days a week, sun up to sundown, I perform at all mealtimes). All proceeds would have gone to charity, namely, the health care of my pet goat, Boots. As many of you know, Boots has been in precarious health recently, having been the victim of a rabid squirrel attack.
I think this is a perfect opportunity, however, to remind everyone of the five principles of ethics as set out by …
Gabrielle rolled her eyes so far back she was afraid they might get stuck. She quickly began reading down the scroll.
And since I’m pontificating about ethics, I think it’s also time for Sappho to come clean about her publishing contracts. The rest of us are committed to the purity of our art, but she has the unmitigated nerve to commercialize it and exploit those of us who once read her tripe. Of course, the mindless cultists who follow her around and grovel at her feet are happy.
Like we cared.
In the center of the scroll, a small flame appeared and quickly consumed the parchment.
Gabrielle sighed. Maybe seeing a live bard would help bring back some enthusiasm for writing. Ever since she’d joined the Society, she was having a hard time remembering exactly what it was she loved about her craft.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Xena straightened her new silk dress with a nervous hand. Did she want to do this? Hades, no! But would she do it for Gabrielle?
In a heartbeat.
She couldn’t give the bard a real home and the stability she deserved. But she could do the little things that made her partner happy. And attending … Xena gulped … scroll readings was one of those things. As Zeus is my witness, I’ll stay awake for the entire performance. Even the boring parts. Which, to Xena, was everything between finding their seats and the applause at the end.
The warrior had left Gabrielle napping late that afternoon so she could make a quick trip to the clothing market. Gods, it was like going to Tartarus!
Again.
How did Gabrielle stand it?
When one particularly tacky-looking stall began something called a blue torch special, hordes of vicious, screaming women started shoving and cursing each other, all vying for the best positions at the table. Then the greedy little merchant yanked back a tattered cloth to reveal a table full of hideous, but undeniably cheap, garments, and the shoppers descended upon them like a pack of ravenous, wild dogs.
Xena shook her head in amazement. And she thought Callisto was a bitch. She would never again doubt her partner’s ability to take care of herself. Xena hadn’t witnessed such carnage since her warlord days. But, even then, there had been limits to her madness.
Tucking a bouquet of daisies behind her back, the warrior opened the door to their room.
"Hurry up and shut the door behind you, Xena," Gabrielle called, her back to her partner as she hurriedly laced her boots. "We need to head out right now if we want to make it on time. Where were you? I’ve been…"
Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder. Green eyes settled on her lover, then widened with undisguised admiration. Uncharacteristically flustered, the bard found her jaw working for several seconds before she finally let out a long, slow breath. "Wow."
Xena’s cheeks turned pink. "These are for you." She stepped over the bed and thrust forward the flowers, suddenly feeling like an adolescent on her first date. "Gabrielle?"
"Hmmm?" the bard responded dreamily, her eyes raking over Xena with carnal intent.
"Do you like it?"
"Oh yeah," Gabrielle breathed throatily.
Xena’s blush deepened, and she scoffed, even as her heart eagerly drank up the praise. "I meant the flowers and the dress."
"Those are beautiful too." Gabrielle drew a languid finger up the cool material from Xena’s waist to her collarbone. Standing on tiptoe, she placed a series of gentle kisses behind her lover’s ear. "This is a sweet surprise." Her fingers lingered on the spots were the sheer material hugged the warrior.
Blue eyes closed helplessly at the feeling of soft lips. Oh Gods. Xena’s voice dropped to its lowest register. "You’ve got exactly twenty years to stop doing that."
"Mmm … not enough."
"Fifty then."
"Better." Gabrielle placed a final kiss on her partner’s lips before pulling back. "What’s the occasion?"
"Whaddya mean?" Dark brows furrowed. "We’re going to that poetry thing tonight, right? Last time you didn’t want me to wear my armor so…"
"Oh, Xena, that was in the Palladium. This is just a tavern reading."
The warrior moaned. She’d gone shopping for nothing?! "So we could’ve just worn our regular clothes?"
Gabrielle smiled apologetically and made a gesture toward her own outfit. "I know I should be sorry, Xe, but I’m not." Her eyes raked over Xena’s lanky form again, appreciating every muscle and curve. "You look gorgeous." She leaned forward and rubbed her nose with Xena’s. "I love the flowers. And I love you. Thank you."
"Oh, no, bard," Xena chuckled, moving away from Gabrielle. "Nice try. But if you’re not dressing up, then neither am I." Xena crossed her arms over her chest, but they dropped to her sides at the sight of her lover’s protruding lower lip. "Are you pouting because I refuse to be molested, or because I’m going to change clothes?"
"Yes." Her pout grew bigger.
"Gabrielle…" Xena warned. "Not fair."
"Please?" the bard begged earnestly. "I really like the way you look right now."
Xena sighed in mock-annoyance, but smiled affectionately.
Beaming, Gabrielle took her warrior by the arm. She resisted the urge for one more kiss. If they didn’t leave now, the only performance Xena would see tonight would be a very private one.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
"Four dinars! Each?"
"Gods, you are cheap," Gabrielle grumbled, digging some dinars out of her pouch and paying the woman at the tavern door.
"Hades, Gabrielle! And you said she’s not even performing her own material?"
"Xena," Gabrielle dragged the warrior to an open spot up front, "I’ve already explained this. Verbose is a bard herself, but tonight she’s going to be reading other bards’ greatest works."
"Parasite."
"Hush!" The younger woman smacked Xena’s arm as she took her seat. "The performance is about to begin."
Several barmaids dimmed the lanterns, and the crowd broke out into scattered applause. Gabrielle squinted, taking in the room’s occupants. It seemed to be an odd mix of neatly dressed women, who she assumed were here to see Verbose’s performance, and surly-looking soldiers, who were undoubtedly here for the ale and whores. Her gaze drifted to a sign on the wall that proudly proclaimed, ‘Buy One, Get One Free’. I wonder if they only mean the drinks?
"Xena, are you…?" Gabrielle discreetly slid a hand up the warrior’s thigh and began feeling around.
"Gabrielle!" Xena squealed, then clamped her hand over her mouth. Warriors did NOT squeal. Even if they were wearing a dress.
"Shhh…" the bard chuckled softly and pressed her lips against a rapidly reddening ear. "Where are your weapons? Some of these guys look a little scary." She was already regretting leaving her staff in their room.
Xena feigned complete innocence, so the bard added, "And don’t think I don’t know about your thigh daggers."
"Do you feel any daggers?"
The small hand roamed higher, and Xena bit her tongue, but a tiny yelp still escaped her lips. Gabrielle had no mercy.
A puzzled look crossed the shorter woman’s face. "No."
Xena’s gaze dropped to her own breasts, and Gabrielle’s happily followed along. "You want to check for my breast dagger?" The warrior leaned forward and wriggled her eyebrows at the bard.
"Behave."
"You started it."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Shhh!" Gabrielle turned to face the stage. White teeth flashed into a contented grin, when a long arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.
"Ladies and…" the announcer looked out into the audience and made a sour face. "… rapists, murderers, and thieves."
"You forgot lovers of sheep!" a slurred voice called out from the back of the room.
Ignoring the interruption, the woman lifted her chin. "Announcing the talkative, effusive, loquacious, garrulous, the one and only, Verbose!"
Gabrielle and several other patrons clapped loudly. Verbose was a member of the Lesbos Literary Society, and the young bard couldn’t wait to see her perform in person. She glanced around the room again, wondering if any other Society members were present that night. The two Amazons in the corner, who were sucking each other’s tonsils, were high on her list of candidates.
Xena pulled the bard a little closer. "Gabrielle, why are you staring at all the women’s right breasts?"
The blonde jerked her gaze back to the stage. "No reason."
Gabrielle listened eagerly as Verbose rattled off the names of several accomplished bards whose work she would perform that night.
"But before I sing the song of Sappho and others, I’m going to treat you
to a bonus performance of my own."
A bonus? Hades! "I thought you said she wasn’t going to do one of hers," Xena offered in a feeble attempt to keep some sort of conversation going and stay awake. Her eyelids were already growing heavy.
"She’s not." Gabrielle scanned her program. Her incredibly jam-packed, double-length program. Gods, if Verbose intended to do all this plus her own work, they’d be here all night. And Xena would kill her. "Don’t worry, Xena. She’s a respected bard, too, remember? I’m sure whatever story she does will fit in with the rest of the show."
Blue eyes suddenly widened, and Gabrielle’s jaw dropped.
Verbose began dancing across the small stage like there was no tomorrow. Hips wiggled, breasts jiggled, jewelry dangled and arms flailed.
Xena turned a sharply arched eyebrow to Gabrielle.
"By the Gods, Xe, I swear I didn’t know she’d be doing interpretive dance!"
And dance, and dance, and dance she did, until Xena’s snores prompted one of the patrons to throw a mug up on stage, spraying its contents across the floor, and rousing the warrior.
"Fine," Verbose sneered at the simpleton’s crass display. She took a breath to compose herself. "I shall now begin my regularly scheduled performance."
"’Bout damn time!" came the grumpy heckle.
Gabrielle turned to see who was so rude and wasn’t surprised to find it was one of the women she suspected of being a Society member. Bacchae. The whole lot of them.
Verbose’s performance lasted for over four candlemarks. Xena had held up miraculously well for the first two. But somewhere into the third candlemark, Gabrielle took pity on her tall friend and encouraged Xena to lay her head on her lap and just listen. Since then, she’d only had to coax Xena out of the fetal position a few times. The bard ran her fingers through soft, raven tresses as Xena adjusted her position.
"It’s over, Xena."
Xena jumped to her feet and began applauding wildly, the imprint from Gabrielle’s tooled belt decorating her cheek.
"Wait!" Verbose stopped the milling crowd. "I will now do a special benefit performance for my beloved pet: Boots."
Xena turned round, pleading eyes on Gabrielle. The bard nodded. She was ready to go, too. As splendid as several of the readings were, even a lover of the arts could only take so much in one sitting.
"This is Boots!" Verbose shouted, trying desperately to regain the patrons’ attention.
"Gods, is that what we’ve been smelling?" Gabrielle scrunched up her nose as an ancient-looking goat was dragged on stage by its horns.
"I thought it was Verbose," the warrior drawled.
Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "Let’s go."
"Wait! Wait! Boots is ill and needs medical treatment." Verbose patted the goat’s back, and Boots dutifully coughed.
Gabrielle’s steps slowed. Medical treatment?
Xena’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like people manipulating her tenderhearted lover. Turning back toward the stage, she ran her hand down the back of her dress and pulled out a slender dagger.
"I knew it!" Gabrielle exclaimed. Xena wouldn’t go anywhere without a weapon.
"I think I’m going to put her out of her misery."
"Xena, you can’t kill Boots!"
"Of course not." What kind of barbarian did Gabrielle think she was? "I’m going to put Boots out of her misery by killing Verbose."
Gabrielle thought about that for a moment. "You’re only kidding, right?"
"Do you want me to be?" Xena immediately countered. The warrior drew the blade back playfully, only to have a real knife sail over her shoulder and impale the ancient goat, ending its miserable existence instantly.
Collective gasps went around the tavern.
"It was the tall woman in a dress! I saw her do it!" a woman near the door called.
"It was the tall woman! She did it. She killed Boots!"
"MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER!" the forming mob chanted.
"It wasn’t her!" Gabrielle shot back, placing herself between her best friend and the crowd. "She’s still got her knife in her hand!" The bard pointed over her shoulder to Xena, who held up her dagger.
The mob paused for several seconds, before collectively shrugging its shoulders. This was no time for logic! "MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER!"
"This is why we abhor the warrior kind and their filthy ways!" Verbose hissed, taking her place at the head of the mob.
"All warriors aren’t evil! Surely, you know that," Gabrielle argued reasonably.
"Gabrielle," Xena laid a hand on the bard’s shoulder and whispered into her ear, "back door. Now!"
"But they think you’re a goat killer, Xena!"
"I’ve been called worse. Sweetheart, I appreciate your wanting to defend me, but now may not be the best time for a philosophical discussion." She motioned to several of the mob members, who were now holding pitch forks.
Gabrielle sucked in a breath. How’d they get those?
The mob took a step closer.
"Outta my way! Move it! Move!" A burly HSDS deliveryman elbowed his way through the crowd, stopping directly in front of Gabrielle. "Gabrielle of Pooptopia?"
Gabrielle was about to say no when Xena stopped her. "That’s her." She tugged a lock of pale hair. "This is Gabrielle."
More gasps.
"You’re Gabrielle of Utopia? With the cold-blooded goat murderer?" Verbose asked in horror. This was even worse than the Homer scandal. And she didn’t feel bad about Homerita’s cottage having gone down in flames.
"It’s Galloping Gabrielle! Lover of Centaurs!" a voice from the left shouted.
Xena’s eyebrows shot skyward.
"Why, Gabrielle, I never knew you..."
"Don’t be ridiculous!" the bard interrupted exasperatedly.
"MURDERER AND GABRIELLE! MURDERER AND GABRIELLE! MURDERER AND GABRIELLE!"
"Quick, the scrolls!" Xena grabbed an armful of scrolls from the messenger, which burst into flames as soon as she cracked their seals. Then she threw the flaming parchment into the shrieking crowd.
Quickly catching on, Gabrielle opened several more. But the last scroll in her hands wouldn’t combust. She shook it. A dud? Unable to resist, she began reading.
Subject: Big Fun
From: Your Pal
Are you looking for a little kinky fun? Visit the eunuch palace. All eunuchs. All the time!
"Gods-be-damned SPAM!!" Gabrielle roared, ripping up the useless parchment.
Soon the tavern was filled with smoke.
Gabrielle felt a firm tug on her arm. She raised her fists to pummel her attacker, only to have them covered by Xena’s soot-stained hands.
"Back door..."
Gabrielle nodded. "Now!"