DISCLAIMER: All characters from X: WP are the property of Renaissance Pictures and Universal. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. Also, special thanks to all the bards who came before and essentially created this genre.
Please send all comments and constructive criticism to bard.of.thorn@gmail.com
“Thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.” --Dogberry in Much Ado About Nothing
Chapter 1
Cloak and Dagger
Today was just another day in the marketplace. The narrow streets were flanked with merchant stalls and eager shoppers haggling for their wares. At the edge of the square, the butcher hung cuts of mutton and oxen for wealthy customers. Across the way, the local fishermen proudly displayed their catch of the day. Foreign tradesmen waved their arms, presenting luxurious silks from the East. The smell of perfumes, oils, and civilization permeated the air, as angry birds squawked and flapped their wings through small wire cages. Indeed, it was hard to hear anything over the din of shouting and the clang of metal.
However, all was not as it seemed at the potter’s booth. The makeshift shelves were stocked with the usual wine mixing bowls and cups. Sheltered by the tarp overhead, an old woman shrilly critiqued the glazing on one of the water jugs, trying to get a better price.
“Two drachma! My horse produces better workmanship in his stall!”
“Then you would do well to buy it from him, madam. Twenty drachma!”
“And look at the base, it’s chipped right there, five drachma.”
“The furies must be assaulting your vision. Fifteen drachma!”
Just then, a pair of beady eyes peered out the top of a large pithos jug and quickly retreated back. The thief remained still to avoid detection.
“Seven! You are a scoundrel and a cheat!”
“No, twelve! You are making a mockery of my work!”
“Deal!” The potter stared at her in disbelief.
“Providing you help me carry it to my cart…” she continued. The exasperated potter finally gave in and helped her carry the jug away at the conclusion of the bargain. The concealed thief let out a sigh of relief. He seized his chance to escape from his hiding place before the potter returned. Still, it was beneath the dignity of Autolycus, King of Thieves, to steal amphorae from street vendors. He raised the hood of his cloak and inconspicuously strolled down the street.
The only reason Autolycus ended up in crummy Amphipolis was a string of unfortunate events. Ever since the wealthy oligarchs started hiring Scythian body guards, highway robbery hasn’t paid as well as it used to. Being a wanted man through most of the peninsula did him no favors, either. After an incident involving the dagger of Helios, every temple priest guarding valuable relics from Athens to Sparta was warned to be on the lookout. Autolycus pulled back his cloak slightly, revealing the dagger’s jeweled hilt.
Yeah, still there, he thought as he touched it for reassurance. Autolycus needed to stay somewhere safe until the commotion died down and his buyer contacted him for the goods. He knew he should have charged that Amazon more money!
In the meantime, Autolycus amused and enriched himself by periodically stealing from the titans of industry here at the edge of civilization. The fools were so smug after returning from swindling King Perdiccas of Macedonia that they didn’t even know what hit them. And who better to steal from than a thief, Autolycus reasoned. After all, he was the King of Thieves, and it was high time he received tribute from some of his more legitimate subjects…
Autolycus continued walking through the marketplace. Suddenly, he ducked into an alley and peered around the corner. A golden glint caught his eye, and he wanted to observe his next target. Now he wouldn’t even have to wait by the north gate!
The slowly moving figure certainly didn’t look like one of Autolycus’s usual “customers.” To the untrained eye, he was simply a common beggar, shrouded in a long, dirty cloak made of coarse wool. The figure’s face was obscured by the hood of his cloak as he hobbled down the road. Obviously lame or wounded in some manner, he clung to a large wooden staff to help him slowly limp through the city. Surely such a man was more likely to inspire pity from a kind soul than the interest of a grand thief.
However, Autolycus had been in business long enough to know that appearances are deceiving. When the beggar stopped between steps, the front of his cloak parted slightly to reveal a bronze breastplate. Leaving the alley, Autolycus stealthily wove in and out of the merchant stalls to get a better view. From the short glimpses he could muster, Autolycus determined that the flea-bitten beggar was wearing high quality armor. Closer inspection also revealed that the beggar’s shins were protected by matching greaves covered in dirt and mud. This man was certainly not what he appeared to be.
Hmm, they’re getting smarter, Autolycus thought, slightly dismayed. Not only are the crooked merchants trying to blend in with the general population, they’re also wearing armor for protection. He should probably leave them alone for awhile or end up being chased around the Areopagus by a phalanx again.
Still, Autolycus considered, this scheme seemed much too devious for their lot. Maybe the beggar was really a spy from another city-state, gathering information. Well, trader or spy, it didn’t really matter. The breastplate alone was worth the same amount as five farms in the countryside. Imagine how much gold was waiting in the beggar’s coin purse! Autolycus certainly couldn’t pass up this opportunity. After all, he could drink the finest wine, eat steak and roast goose every night, stay in the best room at the inn, and take all the hetairai in the city out for a real night on the town. Drinking and whoring his way through Amphipolis! It’s not like he had anything better to do while waiting around to be paid for the stolen dagger. He might even have some left over to give to the real beggars…
As his shiny prize gleamed subtly in the distance, Autolycus rubbed his palms together in greedy anticipation. Today was going to be a good day after all. He ran to the edge of the marketplace and positioned himself to strike. Autolycus would ambush the beggar as soon as that fraud set foot outside the square.
Little did Autolycus know that he wasn’t the only one observing the beggar. A pair of bright blue eyes blazed with fury as their owner gestured to the cloaked figure.
“Honestly, Lyceus! Spend 200 drachma on that horrid old shrew? Two hundred drachma?” the girl exclaimed. “Mother would do better to give it to him,” she pointed to the beggar, “than use it for that wretched crone. At least he would do something good with it,” she grumbled.
Autolycus watched the two teenagers as they stopped to argue. Both of them looked like they came straight from the fields. The boy wore a plain linen tunic and carried a rusty hand sickle tucked under his brown leather belt. The girl also had a sickle hanging from her belt, which she wore over a matching linen tunic and a long pleated skirt. She tightened the knot in the kerchief holding back her long black hair before continuing her tirade.
“Lyceus, why would Mother do this? Thanasima and her horrible son will drive us all into slavery by the end of harvest season!” the girl waved her arms for emphasis.
“Xena, we both know she’s doing it for your own good,” Lyceus tiredly replied. “You can’t get married without a dowry, and Thanasima insisted on that amount to make up for your…er, shortcomings.
“My shortcomings? If I had to pay a dowry for that woman and her son, I would have to raid King Midas’s vault!” Autolycus’s ears perked up.
“Well after the broken engagement last summer, she wants some reassurances,” Lyceus said tentatively.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Xena said coldly. She stopped in front of the jeweler’s booth and absentmindedly picked up one of the necklaces.
“Now, we’ve had a very busy day,” Lyceus noted making idle conversation. “We helped Toris with the harvest this morning. We got an estimate for the rest of the crop from the miller,” he said as she examined the workmanship. “And now we have to return to the tavern to help Mother and prepare for the festival of Poseidon.” Xena rolls her eyes and puts down the necklace.
“Where does the time go?” he continued prattling. “The harvest is almost over. Then, we have the increase in business at the tavern that the festival always brings. The next thing you know, we’ll be looking for solstice gifts.”
Xena finally relented. “The festival of Gamelion also approaches,” she offered quietly.
“And so does your marriage to Maphius,” Lyceus prodded. He raised his eyebrows pointedly.
Enraged, Xena slammed her fist, knocking over the tent peg and collapsing the tarp.
“Why do I have to marry him? Why do I have to get married at all? And to Maphius of all people! That stuck up twit can hardly tie his own sandals, and he thinks he’s the pharaoh of Egypt!”
“Xena, you’re not being rational.”
“I wouldn’t be in this mess if that bastard Petracles didn’t run off and join a band of bloody mercenaries!” she screamed almost in tears.
“But he did, Xena. He did.” Lyceus said gently. “And I know you cared for him, and I know he hurt you. But you have to get married. You turned sixteen years old last spring, and you have to think about your future.”
“Why can’t I be like Mother and run my own business?” she demanded.
Cautiously gauging her reaction, Lyceus answered, “Because she wants a better life for you than she had. You know how hard she works, even with both of us helping. The only reason that most of the suppliers and farmers do business with her is their respect for Father when he was alive. That goes for the community as well. Ever since I reached manhood, I have been treated better than she has after twenty years of running the tavern. She doesn’t want her daughter to go through the same thing.”
Lyceus changed tactics, “You can’t just stay in the tavern for the rest of your life. You’re better than that. Now Maphius might not be much,” Lyceus continued as Xena pulled a face, “but he does come from a well-connected family with a fleet of ships and a thriving export business. You would have a nice home with servants. You could shop anywhere in town and never have someone like Thanasima looking down her nose at you. You would have time to read or travel. You could do anything you wanted within reason.” He stopped to think. “Well, within reason for a normal person, anyway. You have a destiny, Xena, and you shouldn’t let a little inconvenience get in the way.”
“Arrg! Why can’t I just run off and become an Amazon?” she whined.
“Xena.”
“I mean, I’m already better than Toris with the short sword, and I’m sure that I can pick up archery.”
“Xena.”
“Fine. All right. I get it,” she muttered.
“Good,” Lyceus smiled.
“Maybe he’ll run off with a Corinthian slave girl or die an untimely death.”
“With your cooking skills, sister, I have no doubt about it.” Lyceus put his hand on Xena’s shoulder to comfort her. They were the same height, though he looked younger than the girl by a few years. Barely a youth, he had short blonde hair and a small wisp of beard growing on his chin. Lyceus had his sister’s stunning blue eyes, though they seemed more tranquil.
“Come on, we should get going,” Lyceus motioned. “Toris is coming home for dinner, and will want to know how things went with the miller.”
Autolycus watched the girl as they both walked away. She was very striking looking with her pale skin and dark hair. And what a body! Yes, very nice indeed, though a bit young for his taste. A bit whiney, too. Still, she was quite a pistol. Autolycus definitely liked spunk in his women. Now if only she would bend over a little more…
Glop!
“Ouww!,” Autolycus yelled. He gingerly touched his head and examined a strange white liquid as an incontinent pigeon flew away overhead. “Eeewww!”
Rubbing his hair to remove the liquid, Autolycus turned and noticed that the beggar was almost out of range. He quickly leaped into action and jumped out behind his target, pinning the beggar’s arms. The beggar squirmed and yelled for help as Autolycus struggled to remove his staff.
“Just give me your money,” Autolycus grunted, “and no one will get hurt!” The beggar continued struggling and jammed his staff down on Autolycus’s foot.
“Ahh…” Autolycus retaliated by kicking the beggar in the leg, causing him to collapse.
Xena and Lyceus turned around to see the source of all the commotion. Watching as Autolycus searched for the unconscious beggar’s coin purse, Lyceus charged into action.
“Stop! What are you doing to that old beggar?” Lyceus yelled. He walked up to Autolycus and pulled him away from the body.
“Oh, is that your game then? Put ‘em up, Junior. I can take it!” Autolycus said as he raised his fists and shuffled his feet. Lyceus assumed a fighting stance and hit Autolycus squarely in the jaw, knocking him down.
“Or not,” Autolycus whimpered and drew his only weapon, the dagger of Helios. “Ha ha!” he laughed triumphantly as Lyceus frantically dodged his dagger thrusts. “You are no match for the great Autolycus!”
Clang!
“Maybe you’d rather dance with me,” Xena caught Autolycus’s blade with her sickle. They dueled back and forth, each trying to land the deciding blow.
“Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!” Xena rallied, swinging her sickle furiously. Autolycus ducked at the last minute, and used a sweeping roundhouse kick to disarm her and knock her to the ground.
“Sorry, kid. It’s just not your day.” Autolycus pulled back the dagger to strike and…
Thwak!
With his last bit of strength, the beggar bludgeoned Autolycus with his staff, knocking him unconscious. Reeling with pain, the hero of the hour then doubled over with pain.
Xena immediately rushed to the huddled figure on the ground. She reached to turn the beggar over and placed his head in her lap. His breathing was shallow, but he was still alive. Xena untied the kerchief from her hair and used it to wipe the blood and dirt off his feverish face. Such smooth skin! As amazing as it seemed, he must be younger than Lyceus.
Xena tried to remove the cloak to help him breath when she noticed the large patches of blood staining the wool. This was more serious than she had thought.
“Lyceus, get help!” Xena ordered. “Find Iatros and tell him to meet us back at the tavern.” Lyceus nodded and ran down the street. There was no other choice. Xena would have to get him to the healer before it was too late.
Running out of time, Xena used her sickle to cut through the armor’s leather straps and loosened the breastplate. She tore off the bottom of her skirt and used it to stop the blood from rushing out of an open side wound. The stranger’s eyes fluttered open and winced in agony as Xena carefully laid him on the ground and removed his cloak and armor. For the first time, Xena got a good look at her rescuer.
“It’s a woman?”
Gabrielle’s eyes rolled back in her head as she felt an unbearable surge of pain.
“Athena…Athena, you promised,” she whispered before passing out.
******************************************************************************