All's Fair in Love and Flower Wars
Dec. 21st, 2010 03:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glacial_queenIt was a quiet day in room 218--almost uncharacteristically so. Both girls were curled up in their respective beds, Karla dozing a bit with a hot water bottle to help combat her moontime cramps, and Gabrielle curled up, her nose so buried in her book, it was almost touching the page. Karla had given Gabrielle a copy of Lord Shakespeare’s plays for Christmas, and the little bard seemed determined to devour them all before classes started again.
Finishing Titus Andronicus (bloody, but no worse than a typical family gathering at Tantalus’s), Gabrielle turned the page to the next play.
The silence didn’t last long after that.
What started as muttering about halfway through the first act had turned into outright fuming by the third. This tome was lucky that Gabrielle held books and gifts from dear friends in such high esteem, or she would have gotten her quill and ink and begun manually correcting all the parts this Shakespeare had gotten wrong.
“And they call him ‘the Bard’ like he’s the only one,” Gabrielle growled. “This is even worse than Homer’s chariot-wreck! Why doesn’t anyone ever mention Xena?!”
“Hmm?” Karla rolled over slightly to look at her roommate, biting back a wince. “Whassat, Gab?” she asked, sleepily. “Oh, you’re reading my book. ‘M glad.” Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she noticed the thundercloud expression on Gabrielle’s face. “Is everything okay?”
Contrite, Gabrielle shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, I’ll be quiet again.”
Waving that away, Karla struggled to sit up a bit. Without needing to be asked, Gabrielle came over and helped prop her up with pillows. “I was having trouble sleeping anyway,” she said, flashing her a grateful, if short-lived, grin. “Don’t worry about it. What’s wrong?”
Satisfied Karla was comfortable, Gabrielle went back and retrieved the book, frowning at it again. It wasn’t the play that had bothered her so much; it was just symptomatic of a larger issue. “I’m just tired of people always getting the story wrong,” she confessed. “I read all these stories and tales and even so-called accounts of history and they’re never right. Not one of them ever mentions me or Xena. And I can understand maybe history ignoring me--I’m just a chronicler. But Xena! She’s usually the one saving the day and it’s like she never existed for all that these books ever mention her.”
Karla blinked a bit, trying to follow that. “Wait--your Xena knew Lord Shakespeare?”
“No,” Gabrielle replied. “He lived thousands of years after we--did.” She couldn’t bring herself to say after we died. It was just too weird, talking about your death in the abstract even though it hadn’t happened yet--except, in terms of history, it already had. “But he retells a story that we lived through.” She sniffed. “Badly.” She held the book out for Karla, showing her the play in question. “Have you read it?”
“Once,” Karla said, neglecting to mention that she’d rather enjoyed it. “What did he get wrong?”
“Only everything!” Gabrielle said, throwing up her hands in despair. “He didn’t even get the names right. What’s the point of doing anything, if people won’t remember it anyway?”
“Because you’re not doing it for history?” Karla suggested. “Just a hunch.”
Okay, that was true, but Gabrielle’d had a good head of steam built up here and comments from the the chorus weren’t all that helpful. That got a raspberry blown in Karla’s direction and possibly would have been followed up by a thrown pillow if the other girl hadn’t already been completely miserable.
What a pair of very mature Queens they made.
“Quiet, you,” she muttered instead. “It was a rhetorical question.” And since she’d had a hand in helping to shape rhetoric into it’s current form (not that she got any credit for it, thanks again, Homer), she could totally make that argument. “Though, you’re right. This isn’t the kind of thing that you expect to live on for centuries.”
Centuries. It had been just a few short months ago for her. Sometimes this time stuff made her shiver.
“Want to hear what really happened?” she asked, as much to distract herself from the implications there as a desire to make sure the true story was known.
“Sure!” Karla said, snuggling down under the covers again. “You know I like hearing about your adventures, with your grand escapes and thrilling chases and triumphs against evil.”
Gabrielle had to laugh at that. “Well, there is one grand escape, but it isn’t mine, barely any chases, and no real evil to triumph over. You sure you still want to hear it?”
“I think I can make an exception,” Karla decided, pretending to think it over. “But only because I’m curious as to what all is different in your version.”
As Karla made herself comfortable, Gabrielle settled in for a long story, happy at any opportunity to use her bardic training. “I sing a song of joyfulness, of hope born from ashes, and life snatched from the jaws of death. I sing a song of the great hero Xena, who righted wrongs and placed the value of the human heart above the whims of human greed...”
***
Argo’s hooves echoed on the cobblestones as they passed through the gate of the large Italian city. Gabrielle looked around with avid excitement, trying to take in as much as she could from her perch behind Xena, which mostly meant craning her neck to the left and right, since looking forward afforded her only an impressive glimpse of Xena’s black leather armor and her various weapons—both things she had seen before. This city, Verna, however, this was new and new often meant exciting, filled as it was with people to meet and stories to hear and adventures to have.
Please. She travelled with Xena, Warrior Princess. Adventures were kind of part and parcel of their lives.
Since Gabrielle was glancing about, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city, she noticed the oddity first. All around them, shops were being closed, windows barred, doors locked, and children swept up off the streets by concerned parents. The street itself was emptying, people rushing into buildings and slamming the doors behind them. In less than a minute, the street was deserted, save for themselves.
“Have you been here before?” Gabrielle asked, because, hey, it wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened.
“No,” Xena said quietly. She was also looking around, keeping an eye out for danger, chakram in hand. “I don’t think this was because of me. This time. Probably.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” Gabrielle offered.
“Not really,” Xena replied. “If it were me, we’d know what we were dealing with.” She dismounted, grabbing Argo’s reigns to lead her over to a shuttered stall and hobble her there. She’d prefer it if her horse didn’t get caught up in whatever was coming. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay here until we have a better idea of what’s going on?”
“Not on your life,” Gabrielle said, sliding off Argo’s rump.
“I’d doubted it,” Xena replied. “Stay close to me, then. I’d prefer it if you got in trouble where I can see you.”
The trouble wasn’t all that long in coming. They were standing in a market square, where four streets converged. Xena cautiously circled in place in an effort to keep an eye on all four directions at once. Behind them pretty much led straight back to the city gates, and though it was doubtful that something dangerous had followed them in, stranger things had happened. But the other streets just led deeper into the city and anything could be lurking within these seemingly peaceful walls.
“Xena, look,” Gabrielle said, jerking her chin. “Someone’s coming.”
It was a youth, no older than fourteen at the most. He was hurtling up the street to their left, running as if all the hounds of Hades were at his ankles. From the way he kept occasionally glancing backwards, it was possible they were. He certainly didn’t notice them until Xena stepped forward and neatly collared the lad, almost yanking him off his feet as his torso stopped moving and his legs did not.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, blue eyes cold. The boy gaped at her, throat working furiously, but no sounds came out. “What’s going on? Speak!”
Gabrielle, with a fondly exasperated smile directed towards her friend, caught the boy’s hand, drawing his eyes away from Xena. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she said, her voice soothing. “We just want to help, actually. Why are you so frightened? Has someone threatened you with harm?” Xena muttered something about actually just wanting to avoid trouble for once in their lives, but Gabrielle hushed her, focusing on the youth. “It’s okay, you needn’t fear reprisals if you talk to us. In fact, I can tell you about this one time when we—”
“Tiberi just called Marcellio a coward!” the boy interrupted, fidgeting to try to get out of Xena’s grip. “In front of everyone at the tavern! And as soon as he did, a buncha people took off to go inform the Mantegnas at their tavern!”
That was so very much not what Gabrielle had been expecting. “Huh?”
“And now both sides are heading this way!” he continued. “Everyone the Mantegnas and the Capolettas can round up! There’s going to be a fight nasty enough that even Mars might notice!”
As if the lad were an oracle, shouting arose in the distance, both from the direction he’d been running from and the opposite direction. Xena’s head whipped around to track the closest group, and the boy, taking advantage of her distraction, yanked himself away, gaining his freedom along with the sound of tearing cloth.
“If you’re smart, you’ll run, too!” he called over his shoulder as he made for the as-yet unnoisy third street, perpendicular to the other two. “They’re looking for blood today!”
“What do you think, Xena?” Gabrielle asked, watching him flee. “Should we follow him?”
“Considering I’d prefer not to get into a fight until I’ve been in a new city for at least twenty minutes, I think we should,” Xena replied, her attention still fixed on the street ahead, where the shouting was coming from. “Let’s get Argo and leave. I don’t want anything to do with local politics if I can help it.”
It took just a few moments to unhobble Argo and begin leading her down the same street that the boy had taken. Even so, the first few members of the factions the boy had described were already entering the square. They were all young men, muscular and prosperous-looking, wearing either blue or gold scarves tied around their arms or around their waists. There was never any question of them getting out of the way in time--the groups were far more intent on one another than two women clearly scrambling to get out of the way, and they had already managed to put a block or so between them and the incipient brawl by the time the bulk of men had streamed into the square. They wouldn’t have ever needed to be involved if Gabrielle hadn’t looked back.
But she had. And she’d looked back just in time to see a door open on the opposite side of the square and a little girl toddle outside, attention likely drawn by the noise outside. She was just a tiny thing, all chubby legs and clearly new to walking on her own, but she seemed determined to join in the commotion. In just a few moments, she would make it into the street.
Already, the square had descended into chaos. The frontrunners of both sides slammed into each other, using fists and clubs to whale on one another, screaming either “Mantegna!” or “Capoletta!” as they fought.
There was no conscious thought on Gabrielle’s part, no moment when she decided to run back or gave the order to her legs to start running. It was only Xena’s startled “Gabrielle, what--?!” that made Gabrielle even dimly realize that she was flinging herself back towards the fray. All of her consciousness had narrowed onto that little girl, who even now was climbing slowly down from the stoop. Just a few more steps and she would be swept away. It was a good thing Gabrielle wasn’t thinking; otherwise, her mind would be filled with the awful images of what would happen to a child that small caught up in a punching, kicking, biting mob of men intent only on destruction.
Xena hadn’t seen the baby; as soon as they’d gotten clear with no sign the mob had any interest in pursuing them, Xena’s turned her attention forward, trying to find some place they could wait out whatever madness was occurring before they could continue on in peace. Maybe a little bit of information so they could avoid future brawls like this one. A nice ale and some decent lunch, even. Which was why Gabrielle’s sudden flight backwards had taken her unawares--the girl had been halfway back down the street before Xena had finished calling out in surprise. Of course, there was nothing to do but go after her; Gabrielle hadn’t even grabbed her staff before running off.
“It's my job to run towards trouble!” Xena yelled as Gabrielle was swallowed up in the throng.
Before she’d even crossed the first line of bodies, Gabrielle was belatedly discovering this was a bad idea. An elbow grazed her ribs, and a booted foot clipped her shin as she tried to shove herself against knots of fighters. Having her staff--or better yet, Xena--handy would make this a much less daunting prospect. It was hard to see through the mass of struggling bodies, but Gabrielle kept pushing herself forward, trusting to the gods and momentum to see her through to the other side, before the little girl tumbled headfirst into violence.
Funny how the square hadn’t seemed quite so gigantic before.
Though Gabrielle considered herself something of a pacifist, even now, that didn’t mean she was unable or unwilling to fight. She just preferred not to. But her usual approach of trying to talk her way through trouble didn’t appear to be working quite as well as normal--though she was trying! But people seemed disinclined to listen to her “Excuse me’s” and “Please let me through’s”, assuming they could even hear them--and eventually Gabrielle realized that if she ever actually wanted to make it across, she was going to have to start giving as good as she got.
She was very likely the only person in the crowd apologizing as she swung punches and slammed into people.
That did have the side effect of drawing more attention to her, unfortunately. Elbowing someone in the side to slip past resulted in a painful clip to the side of her head as he retaliated in kind without even once glancing in her direction. Shoving another out of her way ended with her getting shoved in turn--though this actually propelled her slightly forward as he lashed out at her from behind. A nasty kick to a blue-scarved guy had him retaliating with a punch delivered to the small of her back. By the time she’d managed to work her way through, she had amassed quite an impressive collection of bumps, bruises, and scrapes and was about as sore as if she’d tried to take on all of Hercules’ labors herself. Dragging herself out of the mob (with one last punch of her own to make an opening), she found herself looking into the big, brown eyes of the munchkin she’d been rushing to save.
“Pahty!” the little girl giggled as Gabrielle swept her up in her arms, just before the child could finish lowering herself off the walkway.
I made it, Gabrielle thought, breathing a sigh of relief. We’re safe.
No sooner had she thought that than something heavy and wooden crashed into the side of her head. She slumped over, her arms still tight around the little girl, and thought that Xena’s warcry was one of the nicest things she’d ever heard. Or maybe that was just the ringing in her ears?
Unlike her companion, Xena was quite at home in the middle of a fractious mob. In fact, it kind of brought back fond memories of simpler days when she wasn’t trying to atone for a decade as the deadliest warlord of them all. She would have been a little more comfortable using her sword or chakram, but since everyone else was restricting themselves to fists and blunt weapons, she was going to do the same. There was no reason for blood-letting, not when they weren’t in serious danger.
That resolve was questioned when a flash ofbilious green caught her eye and Xena glanced up to see a man swinging at Gabrielle’s head with the fat end of a chair leg. The girl crumpled bonelessly to the ground without making a noise. But that was fine; Xena was making enough for her, letting loose with a loud yell as she began plowing forward, literally flinging men out of her way in an attempt to reach Gabrielle and the fool who had dared raise a hand to her.
Her yell brought most of the mob to a halt. Soon people were diving out of her way, tripping over themselves and others to clear a path before her. She stalked out of the mob, heading for the man that had hit Gabrielle and hoisted him up in the air by his shirtfront. His makeshift club fell from nerveless fingers as he dangled. “Who’s. In. Charge. Here?” she asked, voice very, very quiet. He gulped and pointed to the far end of the mob, where people were still fighting. “Thank you,” she said, lowering him back to the ground.
He sagged a bit in relief as his feet touched the cobbles. It was relief felt much too soon. “Oh, and don’t ever hit a woman again,” Xena said, and slammed her fist into his face. Blood spurted from his nose and he fell, but Xena was no longer paying him any mind as she stooped over Gabrielle.
Even unconscious, Gabrielle had managed to curl around the little girl, shielding her from the mob. “Pahty?” the child asked again, waving her chubby arms at Xena. The open door on the stoop above summed up the entire incident for Xena quite nicely. “You,” she ordered, pointing off into the crowd with one hand, while the other gently examined Gabrielle’s face and head. “Take this child up to her mother. Apologize for nearly trampling her. Think about what could have happened to her if my friend hadn’t been there to grab her. Actually, that last bit is for all of you,” she said, scooping up Gabrielle into her arms. “Look at this little girl and think about what you nearly did.”
One life lesson dispensed, Xena stalked off to deliver another, even as a sheepish looking young man stepped forward to pick up the little girl. The remaining combatants had dwindled down to two now, the rest of the men in a large, cheering circle around them. Xena watched them for a moment, before tapping one of the bystanders on the shoulder. “Hold her,” she said shortly, pressing Gabrielle into his arms. “Gently. And if anything happens to her, I will end you.”
And then she went striding through the remains of the crowd, interposing herself between the last two.
“Call me a coward?!” one was yelling. The yellow scarf around his arm was shot through with golden thread. “A pox on you and your entire House! Full of thieves and whores--”
It was hard to threaten when one was on the receiving end of a fist to the throat.
“This is not for you to interfere with,” the other, wearing blue, said, giving Xena a confused look. “This is no place for a la--” He was also abruptly silenced, this time by a kick in the solar plexus.
“Now that I have your attention,” Xena said coolly, “we’re going to talk about--”
This time it was Xena who was cut off, as yet another man with a yellow scarf tied around his waist went howling past her, a knife in his hand. “For Montagne!” he cried, waving the knife wildly towards the blue-scarved man’s back..
Not that he kept it for long. Rolling her eyes at him--amateur--Xena grabbed his wrist, using his own momentum to send him flying. At the same time, she exerted enough force on his wrist to send the knife clattering to the ground. He went crashing off into the crowd and Xena abruptly decided she’d had enough. Too many idiots with weapons to try to talk sense into all of them and, really? This wasn’t her city. It wasn’t worth the effort.
The crowd was dispersing on its own anyway, not that the violence had ended. Especially those on the other side who’d seen the child they’d almost trampled, people were slipping away in small groups. Rather than bother any further, Xena went over to retrieve Gabrielle and whistled shrilly for Argo. An apothecary for Gabrielle, perhaps a different market district for some supplie, and they could be off.
But, like so many of Xena’s plans today, that was not meant to be. “Excuse me, Lady.” The man in the blue scarf approached her, offering her a small bow. “I am Tiberi, of House Capoletta. I owe you my life.”
“If you couldn’t have held that idiot off, you have no right to wear that,” Xena said, with a pointed glance at the bound sword Tiberi wore at his side.
Tiberi flushed a bit at that. “No matter,” he said stiffly. “One of the Montagne scum went for my back with a knife. Even though fending him off would have been of no real difficulty, you interceded for me. As such, House Capoletta is in your debt.”
“Save it,” Xena said, shortly. “Not interested. We’re just going to be on our way.”
“My honor--” A glance at Xena’s face suggested that was not the best tactic to take. “Your companion is injured,” he said instead. “Might we at least offer the services of our House’s healer on her behalf? A place for you both to rest peacefully until she recovers and you can be on your way.”
As much as Xena would like to have told him exactly what he could do with his House, his healer, and his honor, he was right that Gabrielle needed someone to check up on her. She was still unconscious and showed no signs of coming to. It might be dangerous to keep roaming the city looking for someone who could help her, especially if wandering bands of scarf-wearing bravos were a common occurrence in this city.
“Fine then,” she replied. “Lead on.”
Chapt. 2
Gabrielle woke with a splitting headache and a nagging sense that something was very wrong. She was wearing a long nightgown for one thing, several sizes too large, so she was practically swimming in it. For another, she was lying in a bed, with soft linens and what felt like an embroidered coverlet on it. Even the smells were wrong. For a moment, she almost thought she was back at school again, except this didn’t feel like Fandom, either.
She opened her eyes and them immediately groaned, throwing a hand up in front of her eyes to block out the light stabbing into her brain. Her arm felt like it weighed as much as Argo. “Xena?” she croaked, before flopping back down onto the bed. Xena was her touchstone. No matter what happened, as long as Xena was there, everything would be all right.
But it wasn’t Xena who answered. “You’re awake?” Peeking up through slitted eyes, Gabrielle saw a young woman rush to the side of her bed. A lovely girl, about a year or so Gabrielle’s junior, with chestnut brown hair caught up in a hairnet of gold and seed pearls. “You are!” she said again and Gabrielle winced a bit at the noise. “Hold on,” she said. “I must fetch my nurse and tell her you’ve awakened.”
With that, she turned and headed for the door, gathering long skirts up in her hands to go faster. “Nurse? Nurse!” she called. “She’s awakened. Quickly, mix up the medicines the doctor suggested.” Another minute later, she was back by Gabrielle’s side, carrying a damp cloth and a small cup. “Here,” she said, laying the cloth over Gabrielle’s forehead. “Is that better?”
The cloth was cool and blocked out most of the light. Almost immediately, the throbbing in her head subsided a bit and Gabrielle was able to nod weakly without feeling like her skull was going to crack open.
“Do you think you can handle some watered wine?” the girl asked again. “You might feel better with something in your stomach. You’ve been unconscious all night and well into morning.”
This time, Gabrielle was capable of more than simply nodding. “Please,” she said.
The girl slid an arm beneath Gabrielle’s neck and raised her up slightly, then brought the cup to her lips. “Just a few sips and slowly,” she cautioned. “Otherwise, you’ll get sick.” After a few sips, the girl eased the cup away and settled Gabrielle down again. “There. That should be enough until Nurse arrives with the medicines. Then you’ll be feeling better again in no time.”
“Who--?” Gabrielle asked. “Where?”
“I’m Giulitta, of House Capoletta,” she answered. “You and your companion are our guests, and honored ones at that. The whole House is abuzz with the tales of how you bravely risked yourself to save an innocent child from a most gruesome fate, and then how your companion fended off foul Montagne assassins who would have claimed his life.”
Gabrielle felt a bit dizzy. As much as she would have enjoyed talking to this girl had she been well, trying to follow her from one end of a sentence to another with a head wound this bad was trying.
Was this how most people felt when talking to her? “Where’s Xena?”
“Hopefully resting some,” Giulitta answered. “She stayed by your side and refused to move until she knew you would be well. It wasn’t until dawn and you showed some signs of waking that she allowed herself to be convinced to bathe, eat, and rest. Though I’m certain she will be here shortly, as she left word that she was to be instantly roused when you woke.” Giulitta sighed a bit. “A most loyal friend, brave and true, you have there.”
“Xena’s the best,” Gabrielle said loyally. “I should tell you about this time when I’d been kidnapped and--” Another wave of pain hit and Gabrielle groaned. “Maybe another time,” she said.
“I am truly sorry that this was your introduction to Verna,” Giulitta said, sounding anxious. “Our fair streets are plagued with troubles and it pains me to admit that mine own House but adds to them. We were once grievously wronged by the wicked House Montange and there has been strife between our two Houses ever since. Now the young men of our House, and their allies in other families, do wander the streets and fight with any Montagne ruffians they chance upon. And in their zeal, sometimes innocents are harmed. The Prince is quite perturbed and has come to speak with my father about it many times, but what can he do? Young men have fire in their blood and our honor will settle for nothing less.”
Either Gabrielle was getting used to following Guilitta’s narrative or she was adjusting to the pain, because she was able to follow most of that. “And what really happened between your Houses?” she asked.
“It is exactly as I told you,” Giulitta exclaimed. “This is precisely how my father speaks of it.”
“Maybe so, but what does House Montagne say?” Gabrielle pressed. Even a concussion wasn’t going to stop her from getting to the bottom of a good story. “Surely they don’t go around admitting to be the bad guys.”
With a disdainful sniff, Giulitta said, “I’m afraid I don’t know what tissue of lies House Montagne spreads. Nor do I care to. Liars and thieves, the pack of them. My father says so.” And, apparently, that was enough for Giulitta.
It was probably for the best that Giulitta’s nurse came bustling in moments after, Xena hard on her heels. The medicine the nurse spooned into her mouth tasted awful, but the pain began receding almost immediately. “There you go, ducky,” the nurse said good-naturedly. “A few more doses of that and you should be right as rain. Good thing, too. It was a near-miss, the doctor says. You been hit any harder and your skull might have cracked wide open.”
Xena just coughed at that, but Gabrielle heard the joke she didn’t make.
“We’ll we be able to travel today?” Xena asked instead. Her tone was pure business, but the hand she laid on Gabrielle’s was gentle. “Once she’s finished off that medicine?”
“Larks, no,” the nurse replied, bustling about. “By tomorrow, yon miss will be able to walk about and move a bit, but that’s about all. Possibly by the day after, if the doctor thinks she’s doing well and you keep yourselves to a slow and steady pace.”
Xena growled something under her breath, but it was drowned out by Giuletta’s squeal of excitement. Gabrielle tensed, waiting for the pain to return, but was pleasantly surprised when it did not. Clearly, this doctor knew his stuff.
“—and you can attend!” Giulitta was saying. “As our most honored guests, we would love for you watch, or even participate!”
“I don’t think so,” Xena said flatly.
Giulitta didn’t intimidate easily, or was just very used to getting her own way because she didn’t back down. “Oh, but you’ve never seen a Flower War, have you?” she guessed. “It’s a delightful spectacle, you’ll love it I know! And everyone will be there—even the Prince! It will be the most wonderful experience of your life!”
Gabrielle privately doubted that it could compare to [Xena example here] or seeing a herd of unicorns in Kaeleer, but she had to ask. “What’s a Flower War?”
“You should be resting,” Xena said, her voice sharp with worry.
“I’m laying down and my eyes are closed,” Gabrielle pointed out. “Close enough.”
And Giulitta was happy to answer her question anyway. “It’s terrible fun, that’s what it is! Why, our servants have been constructing a proper tower for months! You see, what happens is all the maidens of the House go up into the tower and along the walls while the young men try to climb up and get inside--”
“Symbolic,” Xena muttered.
“--But our job is to fend them off as best we can, by hurling flowers and pockets of colorful dust at them as they climb--”
“And effective.”
“—and keep them from breaching the tower for as long as we can!” Giulitta finished triumphantly, unperturbed byt Xena’s commentary. “The first one to gain entrance is given a token by the Princess Flora, and can claim a boon at the feast later that night. As I said, it’s wondrous fun!”
“I’m pretty sure we’ll pass,” Xena said. “Gabrielle will need to rest and regain her strength tomorrow. And it would be cruel of me to abandon her to experience this for myself.”
“Actually,” Gabrielle said, sounding a little sheepish, “It kinda sounds like fun.” She peeked out from beneath the cloth to give Xena an apologetic smile.
Giulitta pounced on that like a cat with a particularly tasty mouse. “Oh, you’ll love it, I’m sure,” she gushed. “ As for you health, that’s easily handled. I will be happy to have a chair brought up for you. You can stay towards the back with Nurse and hand me flowers and bags to rain down upon the gentlemen who climb up to breach the tower.” She turned an excited countenance up to Xena. “And with your help, I’m certain we can keep them out!” she cried. “Such a feat has never been done before, but--”
“No.” Xena crossed her arms and looked immovable.
Confusion danced across Giulitta’s face. “What?” she asked.
“I said no,” Xena repeated. “I’m not going to join you in your tower, flinging flowers and dirt at people.”
“But it’s in my honor!”
Xena remained unimpressed.
“You could keep a close eye upon Gabrielle and make sure she doesn’t fatigue herself unduly!”
“If Gabrielle gets involved, that’s on her,” and the look Xena shot her suggested they were going to talk about that, oh yes, “but I don’t play at war.”
***
How in Hades did I get talked into playing war? Xena asked herself for the millionth time that day. She glanced around at the others, milling on the spread of rich green lawn before the tower. Above them, she could hear giggling as the women above laughed and gossiped about the men below.
At least she’d been spared that much. When she’d finally capitulated, it had been with the caveat that she’d be climbing with the men outside, not hiding above with the women. Or, as she’d told Gabrielle that evening, she had a lot more experience taking towers than defending them. And so this morning, after being woken by a pair of timid maids, she buckled herself into her armor and took her place outside on the field. There had been a few questions about her presence among the men, but Xena had recognized many of the faces from the brawl two days previously. They hadn’t been among the ones asking for an explanation. In fact, they seemed to be very anxiously providing one. All that mattered to Xena was that the whispering stopped a few minutes later. Apparently even the most hide-bound traditionalists in the lot didn’t want to argue with the woman who had single-handedly stopped a mob and had then gone on to save Tiberi’s life.
Of course, there was also a wide ring of empty space around her that no one dared cross. Xena allowed herself a small smile. She hadn’t come to Verna to make friends.
“My lady Xena.” Xena’s smile fled. Apparently, she’d gloated too soon. Tiberi crossed the circle of grass that signified no man’s land, leading a handsome and richly dressed man.
“Tiberi,” Xena replied coolly, not bother to correct his address yet again.
“May I beg leave to introduce our fair Prince of Verna,” he said, giving a bow towards the man in question. “He has come to participate in the game, in honor of my fair cousin, Giulitta.”
The Prince offered Xena a cordial nod. “Tiberi has told me what you did for him, and of your companion’s bravery, too. I must add my thanks to House Capoletta’s. Not only would losing Tiberi be a great loss to the city and to me, but his death would have been a political nightmare.” The two men shared a brief laugh at that.
Xena wasn’t so amused. “Will this convince you to stop the open fighting in the streets?”
Tiberi looked ill at ease at both her question and her tone, but the Prince simply waved the question away. “So long as they fight with only clubs and fists, the break no laws of the city. I have tried appealing to reason and logic--” he darted a sharp glance at Tiberi, whose expression turned to chagrin “—but the rights of Verna’s nobility were set down generations ago. Until something grievous happens, I’m afraid there is little I can do, save fine those involved. And House Montagne and House Capoletta continue to pay those fines without question.”
Before Xena could comment on that, bells chimed throughout the yard, causing a great cheer to erupt from the men and a shower of blossoms came tumbling out the window. “We are nearly ready to begin,” Tiberi announced. “We should take our places. Good luck, my lady!”
Xena rolled her eyes, but let it pass as Tiberi and the Prince were already striding away. She turned towards the tower and eyed it. It was only a few stories tall and flimsy to boot. She’d be able to scale it in minutes and call this whole farce to an end. Then she’d be able to take Gabrielle back to bed and keep her there until it was time to leave in the morning.
The damned tower was more difficult to climb than it had looked. Xena gritted her teeth and inched higher. Giulitta had left out a few key details in her explanation of the construction, such as the fabric that coated the structure had been treated with something to make it slippery and difficult to climb. The cloth had been painted to look like stone, but lacked certain features of masonry, such as finger and foot-holds. The flowers had been drenched in perfume, so every time a new volley came over the edge, they were smacked with hundreds of wet, reeking flowers. Xena wasn’t entirely certain how they had managed to find so many blossoms in early spring, but they somehow managed to send whole waves of flowers down upon them. There were also the bags of colored dust that came pelting down onto them at varying intervals. The little pouches were designed to burst apart on contact, coating everything with brightly colored dust, and sometimes even getting into people’s eyes. Not only did the dust cling to everything, but anyone caught in the small cloud that the pouches released ended up having a fit of coughing and sneezing until the dust settled again. At best, those fits took up time. At worst? It was a long slide to the ground, as people lost their precarious holds.
Even the Warrior Princess had slid to the ground a few times. But as much as she resented her first fall, she was grateful for the second—she’d managed to avoid the waterfall of perfume that came gushing out from the tower as she picked herself back up.
Some enterprising youths had been tossing ropes tied to rock up, hoping to catch in the pseudo-crenellations that had been built into the tower and the flanking walls, but they barely had enough time to begin a fast trek up the side before some enterprising young woman tossed the rock back over or simply cut the rope. Not everyone who fell attempted another climb. Even though the tower was nowhere near the height of a real one, a fall from several stories up could still cause an injury. That explained the bevy of physicians on stand-by, and why more pavilions and chairs had been set up than had been originally needed.
Tiberi had been knocked out of the running fairly early. To Xena’s surprise, the Prince had persevered, doggedly climbing a few feet below Xena. Between them and slightly off to the side was another young man, unfamiliar to her. If he’d been at the brawl, she hadn’t noticed him, though he wasn’t wearing one of those silly yellow scarves as so many of Tiberi’s friends did, even today. He was fast and lithe, which was working well for him—he’d even passed Xena once, when she’d stopped to cough after getting hit on the shoulder with a pouch filled with green dust.
She’d managed to regain her lead a few minutes later when a barrage of blossoms pelted him in the face. But it was close. He’d noticed her inching ahead and offered her a quick grin and a wink, acknowledging their unspoken competition. That was when Xena realized that, contrary to all expectations, she was kind of having fun.
She pressed close to the surface of the tower as another set of dust-bags were flung down. Sneezes, coughs, curses, and even the occasional strangled cry followed after, from those not observant or lucky enough to get out of the way. Taking advantage of the brief moment while the girls above grabbed more ammunition—honestly, had they never heard of waves of attack?—Xena glanced up to gage her progress.
There was the opening. She was just a few feet away now. The young man’s head was about even with her knee—he was angling in from the side, hoping to dodge the worst of the attacks. A smart strategy, but it would cost him time. The Prince was drawing closer, but his hands weren’t even brushing her boots yet. She was going to win this.
And…climb.
The inside of the tower was cramped, filled as it was with young women in elaborate dresses, bushels of dust-bags, and basins of flowers floating in perfume. The scent of it all was giving Gabrielle a bit of a headache, but that wasn’t putting a damper on her spirits. The tower was only wide enough for two ranks of women, which was why most of the others had flocked outside to the walls, but Giulitta remained ensconced within. As she was the Princess Flora, the war would end when she handed her token to the first person who entered the tower. Once or twice, the war had been won when someone climbed the walls and dashed inside, but usually the winner hauled himself up the tower, which meant that the tower needed heavy guarding.
The girls who remained within were fierce, too. None of the squealing and bouncing that Gabrielle had seen of the girls outside; no, here, they defended with gusto, making up with sheer numbers of projectiles what they might have lacked in precision. Once, having run out of flowers in one basin, two of the girls had upended it and poured the perfume over the side—and then tossed the basin out after it. Gabrielle had to admit she was impressed.
She also found herself growing fond of Giulitta. While she was terribly naïve and talkative, she was also smart and funny, with an understated sense of humor that didn’t show often, but was all the more amusing when it did. If anything, her major flaw was a blindness outside of her own experience and a willingness to believe everything her father told her as wisdom handed down from Athena. But she was open and generous and honest, doing her best to make certain Gabrielle was entertained, even as she worried about Gabrielle over-exerting herself.
Gabrielle wondered a bit if this had been what she was like when she first started adventuring with Xena and if Xena had felt the same sort of amused fondness that she was developing for Giulitta.
“Next bag!” Giulitta cried, holding her hand out towards Gabrielle. “They’re getting closer!”
Laughing, Gabrielle grabbed for the closest pouch and then frowned at it a bit. Instead of being made of a thin cloth like the others, it was made of silk. For a moment, she almost thought she’d grabbed someone’s purse by accident, especially when she opened it and saw something glittering within. But looking closer, she saw that it was gold-colored dust; a little different since the dust they’d been tossing had been either purple or red, but still just dust. Perhaps this was meant for the winner.
“Hurry, Gabrielle!” Giulitta insisted. “Give me that one, quick!”
Shrugging, Gabrielle went to hand her the bag. If it was a special bag, surely the Princess Flora would know, right?
“No!” Giulitta’s nurse cried. “Not that one!” She lunged for it, grabbing onto the drawstring.
The pouch opened and a trickle of golden dust hit Giulitta squarely in the face. “Blechh!” she said, snatching it away. “Goodness, Nurse! Whatever was that all a-a-achoo!” She’d been primed to toss it, and as she sneezed the pouch went flying, but far wide of the intended mark. Rather than flying straight down as she’d intended, it skewed to the left. Gabrielle heard a faint ‘Oof!’ that suggested Giulitta’d hit someone at least. Not the Giulitta noticed that—she was still caught in a sneezing fit, mopping her face with a dainty lace handkerchief, her nurse bending over her in concern.
“The walls! The walls!” The girls outside began yelling as several pairs of hands grasped the crenellations and a few young men began pulling themselves over the sides. The remaining girls within the tower all dashed out either side to help shore up the defenses. Thus, it was only Gabrielle who was watching as Xena’s head popped up outside the window. She flung another pouch of dust out, but Xena just ducked down, laughing a bit. And then was immediately back up, her arm snaking inside to grasp Giulitta’s wrist. “Got you,” she called.
Giulitta finally managed to stop sneezing and turned watering eyes out the aperature to see who’d finally claimed the Princess Flora. It was Xena, the magnificent warrior who’d saved dear Tiberi and had then watched over her friend so tenderly throughout the night. Her heart suddenly thumping in her chest, she raised her voice to call, “I’ve been claimed! The Princess Flora has been claimed!”
And then suddenly wondered if she was still talking about the game.
Rodrigo Montagne heard the cry that officially ended the war, but continued to climb up anyway. He was closer to the top of the tower than the bottom, and he couldn’t afford the risk of injury if he fell. Not in the middle the vipers’ nest that was House Capoletto. Blindly he pulled himself upwards, his eyes watering through closed lids. The last bag of dust had impacted right on his forehead, spilling dust directly into his eyes. But he was within reach of the tower, he knew it…
There. His hand felt empty air for a moment—the opening. Flailing around, he found the corner where the wall met the floor and grabbed hold. As he was readying to hoist himself up, he felt a pair of arms encircle his upper chest. “Hang on,” a voice said to him, arms clasping tightly around him. “I can pull you up. The war is over and even if this is against the rules, no one else is really watching us.” As she spoke, Rodrigo felt himself getting slowly pulled up and in and he scrambled to help her, pushing up with his feet.
They tumbled inside, the floor solid and much appreciated under Rodrigo. He took a moment to wipe the dust away from his eyes, before turning a smile onto his rescuer. There, the words caught in his throat as he took in the stunning beauty before him.
“Hello,” Gabrielle said cheerfully.
Chapt. 3
For Giulitta, most of the feast passed in a blur. Voices blended together into a stream of noise that splashed over her without registering and her expression was blank as colorful mountebanks and clowns capered for their amusement. She was seated next to Xena, as was the custom for the Princess Flora and the winner of the Flower War. She wasn’t entirely certain whether to be thrilled for the custom or not. No, of course she was thrilled—who wouldn’t want to be seated next to the most wonderful, amazing, and beautiful woman ever? It was just that being in such close proximity to her newfound idol made Giulitta nervous. She was tongue-tied and awkward, prone to dropping food and spilling her drink. Thank all the gods that she never managed to spill anything on Xena—she might not have been able to stay at the feast after embarrassing herself so completely.
She only regained her ability to focus when her father stepped forward to present Xena with her boon.
“She has won this from us twice-over,” he announced to all of the assembled. “First, in defending the honor and the life of my own nephew, Tiberi, and again today by claiming my daughter for victory of the Flower War. For this, I now offer her a boon!”
The feasting hall erupted into cheers and whistles, Giulitta leading them all.
Once it had died down a little, Lord Capoletta turned towards Xena and offered her a little bow. “What boon do you ask of House Capoletta?” he asked grandly.
“None,” Xena replied. “But I thank you for the offer.” She went back to sipping her wine and Giulitta thought she could almost faint at the woman’s cool nonchalance. Would she ever have as much poise? Doubtful.
Her father certainly didn’t. “None?” Lord Capoletta repeated, stupefied. “But you’ve earned it. Please, do not be shy.”
Xena’s expression was a study in mixed emotions as she registered the use of the word ‘shy’ in regards to herself. Giulitta could only imagine what she was thinking and was horribly embarrassed by her father’s gaucherie.
“I assure you, I’m hardly that,” Xena said, raising a slim, black eyebrow. “We’ll be leaving shortly. There’s no time for this boon, even if I had a need for it.”
Horrible and wretched despair crashed over Giulitta. They were leaving? Soon? But she might never see them again! Who knows when they’d be back, if ever! Gabrielle had mentioned that they lived in Greece and were simply traveling to Rome. This might be the only time they ever stepped foot in Verna! How could she live without seeing Xena again?
Dimly, she heard her father trying to please with Xena—as if he could ever win!—and then Giulitta surprised everyone in attendance, including herself, by standing up. “Father, enough,” she said and tried not to blink at how calm and sure she sounded. Almost a little like Xena herself, who was watching her now with clear blue eyes. “She had declined the boon and to press her on it dishonors us, as she is our guest.”
By all the gods at once, she had never spoken to her father like that. She wanted to sink into her chair, maybe even hide under the table, but those brilliant eyes head her fast. “You may never come this way again and Verna sorrows that this is so,” she continued. “But House Capoletta has many friends and allies outside of Verna’s fair walls.” Reaching down into her dust-spattered bodice, she pulled out a necklace on a long chain, her family’s crest emblazoned in gold on it. “Should you ever need for aught, simply show this to anyone who counts us as allies and you will receive it. Otherwise, please keep it, as a reminder of your time here and as a token of House Capoletta’s great esteem.”
And about then Giulitta’s knees gave out and she sat heavily back down in her seat, trembling at her own audacity. The room broke out in thunderous applause, but the only thing Giulitta heard was Xena’s stifled chuckle and her brief murmur of thanks as she wrapped the chain around her wrist.
Gabrielle, also given a place of honor, but next to Tiberi instead of Xena or Giulitta, watched the proceedings with surprise. Hearing Giulitta rebuke her father like that was the last thing she’d suspected from the girl who had spent much of the past two days parroting back his words. Impressed—and trying to remember the exact wording of her speech so she could write it down later—Gabrielle began to stand, intending to go over and congratulate her on being so eloquent. From the faces of many of the people around the table, no one had expected that little bit of spine from the girl.
But she was forestalled as another man stood up and the crowd quieted. From the quality of his clothing, besmeared with dust and dying petals as they were and the instant respect he commanded, Gabrielle guessed he was someone quite important.
“Well-spoken,” he said to Giulitta, raising her glass. “As if I had any doubts on the rightness of my decision, such words of wisdom from one so young has put them firmly to rest. Last night, while Lady Giulitta sat at the bedside of a friend and nursed her back from injury, Lord Capoletta and I sat down to discuss a matter quite dear to both our hearts: that is, the betrothal of his daughter to his prince.” He paused as the room erupted into cheers again, smiling a bit at the applause. “Last night, we came to an agreement. Lady Giulitta and I shall be wed by the end of the summer. In her, I had hoped to simply find a bride of noble birth and gentle temperament, but now I realize that I have found a wife of great wit and wisdom. Thus, I am truly blessed by Juno’s hand. A toast!” he said, holding his glass high. “To the Lady Giulitta, a princess today and soon for always!”
Gabrielle held aloft her glass, but couldn’t bear to drink. At the Prince’s words, her face lost all color, save for to spots high on her cheeks. Her eyes widened and glimmered for a moment with unshed tears, before she blinked them back and managed a tremulous smile. She even brought the cup to her lips for the toast, though Gabrielle was certain the poor girl couldn’t choke down a single swallow. That was it, she had to go to her.
“Excuse me, lady--” Barely hearing, Gabrielle flashed a smile at the young man who approached her and gave him a slight nod as she hurried past. He looked familiar, but she hardly had time to wonder about him now. She had a friend who needed her.
Finishing Titus Andronicus (bloody, but no worse than a typical family gathering at Tantalus’s), Gabrielle turned the page to the next play.
The silence didn’t last long after that.
What started as muttering about halfway through the first act had turned into outright fuming by the third. This tome was lucky that Gabrielle held books and gifts from dear friends in such high esteem, or she would have gotten her quill and ink and begun manually correcting all the parts this Shakespeare had gotten wrong.
“And they call him ‘the Bard’ like he’s the only one,” Gabrielle growled. “This is even worse than Homer’s chariot-wreck! Why doesn’t anyone ever mention Xena?!”
“Hmm?” Karla rolled over slightly to look at her roommate, biting back a wince. “Whassat, Gab?” she asked, sleepily. “Oh, you’re reading my book. ‘M glad.” Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she noticed the thundercloud expression on Gabrielle’s face. “Is everything okay?”
Contrite, Gabrielle shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, I’ll be quiet again.”
Waving that away, Karla struggled to sit up a bit. Without needing to be asked, Gabrielle came over and helped prop her up with pillows. “I was having trouble sleeping anyway,” she said, flashing her a grateful, if short-lived, grin. “Don’t worry about it. What’s wrong?”
Satisfied Karla was comfortable, Gabrielle went back and retrieved the book, frowning at it again. It wasn’t the play that had bothered her so much; it was just symptomatic of a larger issue. “I’m just tired of people always getting the story wrong,” she confessed. “I read all these stories and tales and even so-called accounts of history and they’re never right. Not one of them ever mentions me or Xena. And I can understand maybe history ignoring me--I’m just a chronicler. But Xena! She’s usually the one saving the day and it’s like she never existed for all that these books ever mention her.”
Karla blinked a bit, trying to follow that. “Wait--your Xena knew Lord Shakespeare?”
“No,” Gabrielle replied. “He lived thousands of years after we--did.” She couldn’t bring herself to say after we died. It was just too weird, talking about your death in the abstract even though it hadn’t happened yet--except, in terms of history, it already had. “But he retells a story that we lived through.” She sniffed. “Badly.” She held the book out for Karla, showing her the play in question. “Have you read it?”
“Once,” Karla said, neglecting to mention that she’d rather enjoyed it. “What did he get wrong?”
“Only everything!” Gabrielle said, throwing up her hands in despair. “He didn’t even get the names right. What’s the point of doing anything, if people won’t remember it anyway?”
“Because you’re not doing it for history?” Karla suggested. “Just a hunch.”
Okay, that was true, but Gabrielle’d had a good head of steam built up here and comments from the the chorus weren’t all that helpful. That got a raspberry blown in Karla’s direction and possibly would have been followed up by a thrown pillow if the other girl hadn’t already been completely miserable.
What a pair of very mature Queens they made.
“Quiet, you,” she muttered instead. “It was a rhetorical question.” And since she’d had a hand in helping to shape rhetoric into it’s current form (not that she got any credit for it, thanks again, Homer), she could totally make that argument. “Though, you’re right. This isn’t the kind of thing that you expect to live on for centuries.”
Centuries. It had been just a few short months ago for her. Sometimes this time stuff made her shiver.
“Want to hear what really happened?” she asked, as much to distract herself from the implications there as a desire to make sure the true story was known.
“Sure!” Karla said, snuggling down under the covers again. “You know I like hearing about your adventures, with your grand escapes and thrilling chases and triumphs against evil.”
Gabrielle had to laugh at that. “Well, there is one grand escape, but it isn’t mine, barely any chases, and no real evil to triumph over. You sure you still want to hear it?”
“I think I can make an exception,” Karla decided, pretending to think it over. “But only because I’m curious as to what all is different in your version.”
As Karla made herself comfortable, Gabrielle settled in for a long story, happy at any opportunity to use her bardic training. “I sing a song of joyfulness, of hope born from ashes, and life snatched from the jaws of death. I sing a song of the great hero Xena, who righted wrongs and placed the value of the human heart above the whims of human greed...”
Argo’s hooves echoed on the cobblestones as they passed through the gate of the large Italian city. Gabrielle looked around with avid excitement, trying to take in as much as she could from her perch behind Xena, which mostly meant craning her neck to the left and right, since looking forward afforded her only an impressive glimpse of Xena’s black leather armor and her various weapons—both things she had seen before. This city, Verna, however, this was new and new often meant exciting, filled as it was with people to meet and stories to hear and adventures to have.
Please. She travelled with Xena, Warrior Princess. Adventures were kind of part and parcel of their lives.
Since Gabrielle was glancing about, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city, she noticed the oddity first. All around them, shops were being closed, windows barred, doors locked, and children swept up off the streets by concerned parents. The street itself was emptying, people rushing into buildings and slamming the doors behind them. In less than a minute, the street was deserted, save for themselves.
“Have you been here before?” Gabrielle asked, because, hey, it wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened.
“No,” Xena said quietly. She was also looking around, keeping an eye out for danger, chakram in hand. “I don’t think this was because of me. This time. Probably.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” Gabrielle offered.
“Not really,” Xena replied. “If it were me, we’d know what we were dealing with.” She dismounted, grabbing Argo’s reigns to lead her over to a shuttered stall and hobble her there. She’d prefer it if her horse didn’t get caught up in whatever was coming. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay here until we have a better idea of what’s going on?”
“Not on your life,” Gabrielle said, sliding off Argo’s rump.
“I’d doubted it,” Xena replied. “Stay close to me, then. I’d prefer it if you got in trouble where I can see you.”
The trouble wasn’t all that long in coming. They were standing in a market square, where four streets converged. Xena cautiously circled in place in an effort to keep an eye on all four directions at once. Behind them pretty much led straight back to the city gates, and though it was doubtful that something dangerous had followed them in, stranger things had happened. But the other streets just led deeper into the city and anything could be lurking within these seemingly peaceful walls.
“Xena, look,” Gabrielle said, jerking her chin. “Someone’s coming.”
It was a youth, no older than fourteen at the most. He was hurtling up the street to their left, running as if all the hounds of Hades were at his ankles. From the way he kept occasionally glancing backwards, it was possible they were. He certainly didn’t notice them until Xena stepped forward and neatly collared the lad, almost yanking him off his feet as his torso stopped moving and his legs did not.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, blue eyes cold. The boy gaped at her, throat working furiously, but no sounds came out. “What’s going on? Speak!”
Gabrielle, with a fondly exasperated smile directed towards her friend, caught the boy’s hand, drawing his eyes away from Xena. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she said, her voice soothing. “We just want to help, actually. Why are you so frightened? Has someone threatened you with harm?” Xena muttered something about actually just wanting to avoid trouble for once in their lives, but Gabrielle hushed her, focusing on the youth. “It’s okay, you needn’t fear reprisals if you talk to us. In fact, I can tell you about this one time when we—”
“Tiberi just called Marcellio a coward!” the boy interrupted, fidgeting to try to get out of Xena’s grip. “In front of everyone at the tavern! And as soon as he did, a buncha people took off to go inform the Mantegnas at their tavern!”
That was so very much not what Gabrielle had been expecting. “Huh?”
“And now both sides are heading this way!” he continued. “Everyone the Mantegnas and the Capolettas can round up! There’s going to be a fight nasty enough that even Mars might notice!”
As if the lad were an oracle, shouting arose in the distance, both from the direction he’d been running from and the opposite direction. Xena’s head whipped around to track the closest group, and the boy, taking advantage of her distraction, yanked himself away, gaining his freedom along with the sound of tearing cloth.
“If you’re smart, you’ll run, too!” he called over his shoulder as he made for the as-yet unnoisy third street, perpendicular to the other two. “They’re looking for blood today!”
“What do you think, Xena?” Gabrielle asked, watching him flee. “Should we follow him?”
“Considering I’d prefer not to get into a fight until I’ve been in a new city for at least twenty minutes, I think we should,” Xena replied, her attention still fixed on the street ahead, where the shouting was coming from. “Let’s get Argo and leave. I don’t want anything to do with local politics if I can help it.”
It took just a few moments to unhobble Argo and begin leading her down the same street that the boy had taken. Even so, the first few members of the factions the boy had described were already entering the square. They were all young men, muscular and prosperous-looking, wearing either blue or gold scarves tied around their arms or around their waists. There was never any question of them getting out of the way in time--the groups were far more intent on one another than two women clearly scrambling to get out of the way, and they had already managed to put a block or so between them and the incipient brawl by the time the bulk of men had streamed into the square. They wouldn’t have ever needed to be involved if Gabrielle hadn’t looked back.
But she had. And she’d looked back just in time to see a door open on the opposite side of the square and a little girl toddle outside, attention likely drawn by the noise outside. She was just a tiny thing, all chubby legs and clearly new to walking on her own, but she seemed determined to join in the commotion. In just a few moments, she would make it into the street.
Already, the square had descended into chaos. The frontrunners of both sides slammed into each other, using fists and clubs to whale on one another, screaming either “Mantegna!” or “Capoletta!” as they fought.
There was no conscious thought on Gabrielle’s part, no moment when she decided to run back or gave the order to her legs to start running. It was only Xena’s startled “Gabrielle, what--?!” that made Gabrielle even dimly realize that she was flinging herself back towards the fray. All of her consciousness had narrowed onto that little girl, who even now was climbing slowly down from the stoop. Just a few more steps and she would be swept away. It was a good thing Gabrielle wasn’t thinking; otherwise, her mind would be filled with the awful images of what would happen to a child that small caught up in a punching, kicking, biting mob of men intent only on destruction.
Xena hadn’t seen the baby; as soon as they’d gotten clear with no sign the mob had any interest in pursuing them, Xena’s turned her attention forward, trying to find some place they could wait out whatever madness was occurring before they could continue on in peace. Maybe a little bit of information so they could avoid future brawls like this one. A nice ale and some decent lunch, even. Which was why Gabrielle’s sudden flight backwards had taken her unawares--the girl had been halfway back down the street before Xena had finished calling out in surprise. Of course, there was nothing to do but go after her; Gabrielle hadn’t even grabbed her staff before running off.
“It's my job to run towards trouble!” Xena yelled as Gabrielle was swallowed up in the throng.
Before she’d even crossed the first line of bodies, Gabrielle was belatedly discovering this was a bad idea. An elbow grazed her ribs, and a booted foot clipped her shin as she tried to shove herself against knots of fighters. Having her staff--or better yet, Xena--handy would make this a much less daunting prospect. It was hard to see through the mass of struggling bodies, but Gabrielle kept pushing herself forward, trusting to the gods and momentum to see her through to the other side, before the little girl tumbled headfirst into violence.
Funny how the square hadn’t seemed quite so gigantic before.
Though Gabrielle considered herself something of a pacifist, even now, that didn’t mean she was unable or unwilling to fight. She just preferred not to. But her usual approach of trying to talk her way through trouble didn’t appear to be working quite as well as normal--though she was trying! But people seemed disinclined to listen to her “Excuse me’s” and “Please let me through’s”, assuming they could even hear them--and eventually Gabrielle realized that if she ever actually wanted to make it across, she was going to have to start giving as good as she got.
She was very likely the only person in the crowd apologizing as she swung punches and slammed into people.
That did have the side effect of drawing more attention to her, unfortunately. Elbowing someone in the side to slip past resulted in a painful clip to the side of her head as he retaliated in kind without even once glancing in her direction. Shoving another out of her way ended with her getting shoved in turn--though this actually propelled her slightly forward as he lashed out at her from behind. A nasty kick to a blue-scarved guy had him retaliating with a punch delivered to the small of her back. By the time she’d managed to work her way through, she had amassed quite an impressive collection of bumps, bruises, and scrapes and was about as sore as if she’d tried to take on all of Hercules’ labors herself. Dragging herself out of the mob (with one last punch of her own to make an opening), she found herself looking into the big, brown eyes of the munchkin she’d been rushing to save.
“Pahty!” the little girl giggled as Gabrielle swept her up in her arms, just before the child could finish lowering herself off the walkway.
I made it, Gabrielle thought, breathing a sigh of relief. We’re safe.
No sooner had she thought that than something heavy and wooden crashed into the side of her head. She slumped over, her arms still tight around the little girl, and thought that Xena’s warcry was one of the nicest things she’d ever heard. Or maybe that was just the ringing in her ears?
Unlike her companion, Xena was quite at home in the middle of a fractious mob. In fact, it kind of brought back fond memories of simpler days when she wasn’t trying to atone for a decade as the deadliest warlord of them all. She would have been a little more comfortable using her sword or chakram, but since everyone else was restricting themselves to fists and blunt weapons, she was going to do the same. There was no reason for blood-letting, not when they weren’t in serious danger.
That resolve was questioned when a flash of
Her yell brought most of the mob to a halt. Soon people were diving out of her way, tripping over themselves and others to clear a path before her. She stalked out of the mob, heading for the man that had hit Gabrielle and hoisted him up in the air by his shirtfront. His makeshift club fell from nerveless fingers as he dangled. “Who’s. In. Charge. Here?” she asked, voice very, very quiet. He gulped and pointed to the far end of the mob, where people were still fighting. “Thank you,” she said, lowering him back to the ground.
He sagged a bit in relief as his feet touched the cobbles. It was relief felt much too soon. “Oh, and don’t ever hit a woman again,” Xena said, and slammed her fist into his face. Blood spurted from his nose and he fell, but Xena was no longer paying him any mind as she stooped over Gabrielle.
Even unconscious, Gabrielle had managed to curl around the little girl, shielding her from the mob. “Pahty?” the child asked again, waving her chubby arms at Xena. The open door on the stoop above summed up the entire incident for Xena quite nicely. “You,” she ordered, pointing off into the crowd with one hand, while the other gently examined Gabrielle’s face and head. “Take this child up to her mother. Apologize for nearly trampling her. Think about what could have happened to her if my friend hadn’t been there to grab her. Actually, that last bit is for all of you,” she said, scooping up Gabrielle into her arms. “Look at this little girl and think about what you nearly did.”
One life lesson dispensed, Xena stalked off to deliver another, even as a sheepish looking young man stepped forward to pick up the little girl. The remaining combatants had dwindled down to two now, the rest of the men in a large, cheering circle around them. Xena watched them for a moment, before tapping one of the bystanders on the shoulder. “Hold her,” she said shortly, pressing Gabrielle into his arms. “Gently. And if anything happens to her, I will end you.”
And then she went striding through the remains of the crowd, interposing herself between the last two.
“Call me a coward?!” one was yelling. The yellow scarf around his arm was shot through with golden thread. “A pox on you and your entire House! Full of thieves and whores--”
It was hard to threaten when one was on the receiving end of a fist to the throat.
“This is not for you to interfere with,” the other, wearing blue, said, giving Xena a confused look. “This is no place for a la--” He was also abruptly silenced, this time by a kick in the solar plexus.
“Now that I have your attention,” Xena said coolly, “we’re going to talk about--”
This time it was Xena who was cut off, as yet another man with a yellow scarf tied around his waist went howling past her, a knife in his hand. “For Montagne!” he cried, waving the knife wildly towards the blue-scarved man’s back..
Not that he kept it for long. Rolling her eyes at him--amateur--Xena grabbed his wrist, using his own momentum to send him flying. At the same time, she exerted enough force on his wrist to send the knife clattering to the ground. He went crashing off into the crowd and Xena abruptly decided she’d had enough. Too many idiots with weapons to try to talk sense into all of them and, really? This wasn’t her city. It wasn’t worth the effort.
The crowd was dispersing on its own anyway, not that the violence had ended. Especially those on the other side who’d seen the child they’d almost trampled, people were slipping away in small groups. Rather than bother any further, Xena went over to retrieve Gabrielle and whistled shrilly for Argo. An apothecary for Gabrielle, perhaps a different market district for some supplie, and they could be off.
But, like so many of Xena’s plans today, that was not meant to be. “Excuse me, Lady.” The man in the blue scarf approached her, offering her a small bow. “I am Tiberi, of House Capoletta. I owe you my life.”
“If you couldn’t have held that idiot off, you have no right to wear that,” Xena said, with a pointed glance at the bound sword Tiberi wore at his side.
Tiberi flushed a bit at that. “No matter,” he said stiffly. “One of the Montagne scum went for my back with a knife. Even though fending him off would have been of no real difficulty, you interceded for me. As such, House Capoletta is in your debt.”
“Save it,” Xena said, shortly. “Not interested. We’re just going to be on our way.”
“My honor--” A glance at Xena’s face suggested that was not the best tactic to take. “Your companion is injured,” he said instead. “Might we at least offer the services of our House’s healer on her behalf? A place for you both to rest peacefully until she recovers and you can be on your way.”
As much as Xena would like to have told him exactly what he could do with his House, his healer, and his honor, he was right that Gabrielle needed someone to check up on her. She was still unconscious and showed no signs of coming to. It might be dangerous to keep roaming the city looking for someone who could help her, especially if wandering bands of scarf-wearing bravos were a common occurrence in this city.
“Fine then,” she replied. “Lead on.”
Chapt. 2
Gabrielle woke with a splitting headache and a nagging sense that something was very wrong. She was wearing a long nightgown for one thing, several sizes too large, so she was practically swimming in it. For another, she was lying in a bed, with soft linens and what felt like an embroidered coverlet on it. Even the smells were wrong. For a moment, she almost thought she was back at school again, except this didn’t feel like Fandom, either.
She opened her eyes and them immediately groaned, throwing a hand up in front of her eyes to block out the light stabbing into her brain. Her arm felt like it weighed as much as Argo. “Xena?” she croaked, before flopping back down onto the bed. Xena was her touchstone. No matter what happened, as long as Xena was there, everything would be all right.
But it wasn’t Xena who answered. “You’re awake?” Peeking up through slitted eyes, Gabrielle saw a young woman rush to the side of her bed. A lovely girl, about a year or so Gabrielle’s junior, with chestnut brown hair caught up in a hairnet of gold and seed pearls. “You are!” she said again and Gabrielle winced a bit at the noise. “Hold on,” she said. “I must fetch my nurse and tell her you’ve awakened.”
With that, she turned and headed for the door, gathering long skirts up in her hands to go faster. “Nurse? Nurse!” she called. “She’s awakened. Quickly, mix up the medicines the doctor suggested.” Another minute later, she was back by Gabrielle’s side, carrying a damp cloth and a small cup. “Here,” she said, laying the cloth over Gabrielle’s forehead. “Is that better?”
The cloth was cool and blocked out most of the light. Almost immediately, the throbbing in her head subsided a bit and Gabrielle was able to nod weakly without feeling like her skull was going to crack open.
“Do you think you can handle some watered wine?” the girl asked again. “You might feel better with something in your stomach. You’ve been unconscious all night and well into morning.”
This time, Gabrielle was capable of more than simply nodding. “Please,” she said.
The girl slid an arm beneath Gabrielle’s neck and raised her up slightly, then brought the cup to her lips. “Just a few sips and slowly,” she cautioned. “Otherwise, you’ll get sick.” After a few sips, the girl eased the cup away and settled Gabrielle down again. “There. That should be enough until Nurse arrives with the medicines. Then you’ll be feeling better again in no time.”
“Who--?” Gabrielle asked. “Where?”
“I’m Giulitta, of House Capoletta,” she answered. “You and your companion are our guests, and honored ones at that. The whole House is abuzz with the tales of how you bravely risked yourself to save an innocent child from a most gruesome fate, and then how your companion fended off foul Montagne assassins who would have claimed his life.”
Gabrielle felt a bit dizzy. As much as she would have enjoyed talking to this girl had she been well, trying to follow her from one end of a sentence to another with a head wound this bad was trying.
Was this how most people felt when talking to her? “Where’s Xena?”
“Hopefully resting some,” Giulitta answered. “She stayed by your side and refused to move until she knew you would be well. It wasn’t until dawn and you showed some signs of waking that she allowed herself to be convinced to bathe, eat, and rest. Though I’m certain she will be here shortly, as she left word that she was to be instantly roused when you woke.” Giulitta sighed a bit. “A most loyal friend, brave and true, you have there.”
“Xena’s the best,” Gabrielle said loyally. “I should tell you about this time when I’d been kidnapped and--” Another wave of pain hit and Gabrielle groaned. “Maybe another time,” she said.
“I am truly sorry that this was your introduction to Verna,” Giulitta said, sounding anxious. “Our fair streets are plagued with troubles and it pains me to admit that mine own House but adds to them. We were once grievously wronged by the wicked House Montange and there has been strife between our two Houses ever since. Now the young men of our House, and their allies in other families, do wander the streets and fight with any Montagne ruffians they chance upon. And in their zeal, sometimes innocents are harmed. The Prince is quite perturbed and has come to speak with my father about it many times, but what can he do? Young men have fire in their blood and our honor will settle for nothing less.”
Either Gabrielle was getting used to following Guilitta’s narrative or she was adjusting to the pain, because she was able to follow most of that. “And what really happened between your Houses?” she asked.
“It is exactly as I told you,” Giulitta exclaimed. “This is precisely how my father speaks of it.”
“Maybe so, but what does House Montagne say?” Gabrielle pressed. Even a concussion wasn’t going to stop her from getting to the bottom of a good story. “Surely they don’t go around admitting to be the bad guys.”
With a disdainful sniff, Giulitta said, “I’m afraid I don’t know what tissue of lies House Montagne spreads. Nor do I care to. Liars and thieves, the pack of them. My father says so.” And, apparently, that was enough for Giulitta.
It was probably for the best that Giulitta’s nurse came bustling in moments after, Xena hard on her heels. The medicine the nurse spooned into her mouth tasted awful, but the pain began receding almost immediately. “There you go, ducky,” the nurse said good-naturedly. “A few more doses of that and you should be right as rain. Good thing, too. It was a near-miss, the doctor says. You been hit any harder and your skull might have cracked wide open.”
Xena just coughed at that, but Gabrielle heard the joke she didn’t make.
“We’ll we be able to travel today?” Xena asked instead. Her tone was pure business, but the hand she laid on Gabrielle’s was gentle. “Once she’s finished off that medicine?”
“Larks, no,” the nurse replied, bustling about. “By tomorrow, yon miss will be able to walk about and move a bit, but that’s about all. Possibly by the day after, if the doctor thinks she’s doing well and you keep yourselves to a slow and steady pace.”
Xena growled something under her breath, but it was drowned out by Giuletta’s squeal of excitement. Gabrielle tensed, waiting for the pain to return, but was pleasantly surprised when it did not. Clearly, this doctor knew his stuff.
“—and you can attend!” Giulitta was saying. “As our most honored guests, we would love for you watch, or even participate!”
“I don’t think so,” Xena said flatly.
Giulitta didn’t intimidate easily, or was just very used to getting her own way because she didn’t back down. “Oh, but you’ve never seen a Flower War, have you?” she guessed. “It’s a delightful spectacle, you’ll love it I know! And everyone will be there—even the Prince! It will be the most wonderful experience of your life!”
Gabrielle privately doubted that it could compare to [Xena example here] or seeing a herd of unicorns in Kaeleer, but she had to ask. “What’s a Flower War?”
“You should be resting,” Xena said, her voice sharp with worry.
“I’m laying down and my eyes are closed,” Gabrielle pointed out. “Close enough.”
And Giulitta was happy to answer her question anyway. “It’s terrible fun, that’s what it is! Why, our servants have been constructing a proper tower for months! You see, what happens is all the maidens of the House go up into the tower and along the walls while the young men try to climb up and get inside--”
“Symbolic,” Xena muttered.
“--But our job is to fend them off as best we can, by hurling flowers and pockets of colorful dust at them as they climb--”
“And effective.”
“—and keep them from breaching the tower for as long as we can!” Giulitta finished triumphantly, unperturbed byt Xena’s commentary. “The first one to gain entrance is given a token by the Princess Flora, and can claim a boon at the feast later that night. As I said, it’s wondrous fun!”
“I’m pretty sure we’ll pass,” Xena said. “Gabrielle will need to rest and regain her strength tomorrow. And it would be cruel of me to abandon her to experience this for myself.”
“Actually,” Gabrielle said, sounding a little sheepish, “It kinda sounds like fun.” She peeked out from beneath the cloth to give Xena an apologetic smile.
Giulitta pounced on that like a cat with a particularly tasty mouse. “Oh, you’ll love it, I’m sure,” she gushed. “ As for you health, that’s easily handled. I will be happy to have a chair brought up for you. You can stay towards the back with Nurse and hand me flowers and bags to rain down upon the gentlemen who climb up to breach the tower.” She turned an excited countenance up to Xena. “And with your help, I’m certain we can keep them out!” she cried. “Such a feat has never been done before, but--”
“No.” Xena crossed her arms and looked immovable.
Confusion danced across Giulitta’s face. “What?” she asked.
“I said no,” Xena repeated. “I’m not going to join you in your tower, flinging flowers and dirt at people.”
“But it’s in my honor!”
Xena remained unimpressed.
“You could keep a close eye upon Gabrielle and make sure she doesn’t fatigue herself unduly!”
“If Gabrielle gets involved, that’s on her,” and the look Xena shot her suggested they were going to talk about that, oh yes, “but I don’t play at war.”
How in Hades did I get talked into playing war? Xena asked herself for the millionth time that day. She glanced around at the others, milling on the spread of rich green lawn before the tower. Above them, she could hear giggling as the women above laughed and gossiped about the men below.
At least she’d been spared that much. When she’d finally capitulated, it had been with the caveat that she’d be climbing with the men outside, not hiding above with the women. Or, as she’d told Gabrielle that evening, she had a lot more experience taking towers than defending them. And so this morning, after being woken by a pair of timid maids, she buckled herself into her armor and took her place outside on the field. There had been a few questions about her presence among the men, but Xena had recognized many of the faces from the brawl two days previously. They hadn’t been among the ones asking for an explanation. In fact, they seemed to be very anxiously providing one. All that mattered to Xena was that the whispering stopped a few minutes later. Apparently even the most hide-bound traditionalists in the lot didn’t want to argue with the woman who had single-handedly stopped a mob and had then gone on to save Tiberi’s life.
Of course, there was also a wide ring of empty space around her that no one dared cross. Xena allowed herself a small smile. She hadn’t come to Verna to make friends.
“My lady Xena.” Xena’s smile fled. Apparently, she’d gloated too soon. Tiberi crossed the circle of grass that signified no man’s land, leading a handsome and richly dressed man.
“Tiberi,” Xena replied coolly, not bother to correct his address yet again.
“May I beg leave to introduce our fair Prince of Verna,” he said, giving a bow towards the man in question. “He has come to participate in the game, in honor of my fair cousin, Giulitta.”
The Prince offered Xena a cordial nod. “Tiberi has told me what you did for him, and of your companion’s bravery, too. I must add my thanks to House Capoletta’s. Not only would losing Tiberi be a great loss to the city and to me, but his death would have been a political nightmare.” The two men shared a brief laugh at that.
Xena wasn’t so amused. “Will this convince you to stop the open fighting in the streets?”
Tiberi looked ill at ease at both her question and her tone, but the Prince simply waved the question away. “So long as they fight with only clubs and fists, the break no laws of the city. I have tried appealing to reason and logic--” he darted a sharp glance at Tiberi, whose expression turned to chagrin “—but the rights of Verna’s nobility were set down generations ago. Until something grievous happens, I’m afraid there is little I can do, save fine those involved. And House Montagne and House Capoletta continue to pay those fines without question.”
Before Xena could comment on that, bells chimed throughout the yard, causing a great cheer to erupt from the men and a shower of blossoms came tumbling out the window. “We are nearly ready to begin,” Tiberi announced. “We should take our places. Good luck, my lady!”
Xena rolled her eyes, but let it pass as Tiberi and the Prince were already striding away. She turned towards the tower and eyed it. It was only a few stories tall and flimsy to boot. She’d be able to scale it in minutes and call this whole farce to an end. Then she’d be able to take Gabrielle back to bed and keep her there until it was time to leave in the morning.
The damned tower was more difficult to climb than it had looked. Xena gritted her teeth and inched higher. Giulitta had left out a few key details in her explanation of the construction, such as the fabric that coated the structure had been treated with something to make it slippery and difficult to climb. The cloth had been painted to look like stone, but lacked certain features of masonry, such as finger and foot-holds. The flowers had been drenched in perfume, so every time a new volley came over the edge, they were smacked with hundreds of wet, reeking flowers. Xena wasn’t entirely certain how they had managed to find so many blossoms in early spring, but they somehow managed to send whole waves of flowers down upon them. There were also the bags of colored dust that came pelting down onto them at varying intervals. The little pouches were designed to burst apart on contact, coating everything with brightly colored dust, and sometimes even getting into people’s eyes. Not only did the dust cling to everything, but anyone caught in the small cloud that the pouches released ended up having a fit of coughing and sneezing until the dust settled again. At best, those fits took up time. At worst? It was a long slide to the ground, as people lost their precarious holds.
Even the Warrior Princess had slid to the ground a few times. But as much as she resented her first fall, she was grateful for the second—she’d managed to avoid the waterfall of perfume that came gushing out from the tower as she picked herself back up.
Some enterprising youths had been tossing ropes tied to rock up, hoping to catch in the pseudo-crenellations that had been built into the tower and the flanking walls, but they barely had enough time to begin a fast trek up the side before some enterprising young woman tossed the rock back over or simply cut the rope. Not everyone who fell attempted another climb. Even though the tower was nowhere near the height of a real one, a fall from several stories up could still cause an injury. That explained the bevy of physicians on stand-by, and why more pavilions and chairs had been set up than had been originally needed.
Tiberi had been knocked out of the running fairly early. To Xena’s surprise, the Prince had persevered, doggedly climbing a few feet below Xena. Between them and slightly off to the side was another young man, unfamiliar to her. If he’d been at the brawl, she hadn’t noticed him, though he wasn’t wearing one of those silly yellow scarves as so many of Tiberi’s friends did, even today. He was fast and lithe, which was working well for him—he’d even passed Xena once, when she’d stopped to cough after getting hit on the shoulder with a pouch filled with green dust.
She’d managed to regain her lead a few minutes later when a barrage of blossoms pelted him in the face. But it was close. He’d noticed her inching ahead and offered her a quick grin and a wink, acknowledging their unspoken competition. That was when Xena realized that, contrary to all expectations, she was kind of having fun.
She pressed close to the surface of the tower as another set of dust-bags were flung down. Sneezes, coughs, curses, and even the occasional strangled cry followed after, from those not observant or lucky enough to get out of the way. Taking advantage of the brief moment while the girls above grabbed more ammunition—honestly, had they never heard of waves of attack?—Xena glanced up to gage her progress.
There was the opening. She was just a few feet away now. The young man’s head was about even with her knee—he was angling in from the side, hoping to dodge the worst of the attacks. A smart strategy, but it would cost him time. The Prince was drawing closer, but his hands weren’t even brushing her boots yet. She was going to win this.
And…climb.
The inside of the tower was cramped, filled as it was with young women in elaborate dresses, bushels of dust-bags, and basins of flowers floating in perfume. The scent of it all was giving Gabrielle a bit of a headache, but that wasn’t putting a damper on her spirits. The tower was only wide enough for two ranks of women, which was why most of the others had flocked outside to the walls, but Giulitta remained ensconced within. As she was the Princess Flora, the war would end when she handed her token to the first person who entered the tower. Once or twice, the war had been won when someone climbed the walls and dashed inside, but usually the winner hauled himself up the tower, which meant that the tower needed heavy guarding.
The girls who remained within were fierce, too. None of the squealing and bouncing that Gabrielle had seen of the girls outside; no, here, they defended with gusto, making up with sheer numbers of projectiles what they might have lacked in precision. Once, having run out of flowers in one basin, two of the girls had upended it and poured the perfume over the side—and then tossed the basin out after it. Gabrielle had to admit she was impressed.
She also found herself growing fond of Giulitta. While she was terribly naïve and talkative, she was also smart and funny, with an understated sense of humor that didn’t show often, but was all the more amusing when it did. If anything, her major flaw was a blindness outside of her own experience and a willingness to believe everything her father told her as wisdom handed down from Athena. But she was open and generous and honest, doing her best to make certain Gabrielle was entertained, even as she worried about Gabrielle over-exerting herself.
Gabrielle wondered a bit if this had been what she was like when she first started adventuring with Xena and if Xena had felt the same sort of amused fondness that she was developing for Giulitta.
“Next bag!” Giulitta cried, holding her hand out towards Gabrielle. “They’re getting closer!”
Laughing, Gabrielle grabbed for the closest pouch and then frowned at it a bit. Instead of being made of a thin cloth like the others, it was made of silk. For a moment, she almost thought she’d grabbed someone’s purse by accident, especially when she opened it and saw something glittering within. But looking closer, she saw that it was gold-colored dust; a little different since the dust they’d been tossing had been either purple or red, but still just dust. Perhaps this was meant for the winner.
“Hurry, Gabrielle!” Giulitta insisted. “Give me that one, quick!”
Shrugging, Gabrielle went to hand her the bag. If it was a special bag, surely the Princess Flora would know, right?
“No!” Giulitta’s nurse cried. “Not that one!” She lunged for it, grabbing onto the drawstring.
The pouch opened and a trickle of golden dust hit Giulitta squarely in the face. “Blechh!” she said, snatching it away. “Goodness, Nurse! Whatever was that all a-a-achoo!” She’d been primed to toss it, and as she sneezed the pouch went flying, but far wide of the intended mark. Rather than flying straight down as she’d intended, it skewed to the left. Gabrielle heard a faint ‘Oof!’ that suggested Giulitta’d hit someone at least. Not the Giulitta noticed that—she was still caught in a sneezing fit, mopping her face with a dainty lace handkerchief, her nurse bending over her in concern.
“The walls! The walls!” The girls outside began yelling as several pairs of hands grasped the crenellations and a few young men began pulling themselves over the sides. The remaining girls within the tower all dashed out either side to help shore up the defenses. Thus, it was only Gabrielle who was watching as Xena’s head popped up outside the window. She flung another pouch of dust out, but Xena just ducked down, laughing a bit. And then was immediately back up, her arm snaking inside to grasp Giulitta’s wrist. “Got you,” she called.
Giulitta finally managed to stop sneezing and turned watering eyes out the aperature to see who’d finally claimed the Princess Flora. It was Xena, the magnificent warrior who’d saved dear Tiberi and had then watched over her friend so tenderly throughout the night. Her heart suddenly thumping in her chest, she raised her voice to call, “I’ve been claimed! The Princess Flora has been claimed!”
And then suddenly wondered if she was still talking about the game.
Rodrigo Montagne heard the cry that officially ended the war, but continued to climb up anyway. He was closer to the top of the tower than the bottom, and he couldn’t afford the risk of injury if he fell. Not in the middle the vipers’ nest that was House Capoletto. Blindly he pulled himself upwards, his eyes watering through closed lids. The last bag of dust had impacted right on his forehead, spilling dust directly into his eyes. But he was within reach of the tower, he knew it…
There. His hand felt empty air for a moment—the opening. Flailing around, he found the corner where the wall met the floor and grabbed hold. As he was readying to hoist himself up, he felt a pair of arms encircle his upper chest. “Hang on,” a voice said to him, arms clasping tightly around him. “I can pull you up. The war is over and even if this is against the rules, no one else is really watching us.” As she spoke, Rodrigo felt himself getting slowly pulled up and in and he scrambled to help her, pushing up with his feet.
They tumbled inside, the floor solid and much appreciated under Rodrigo. He took a moment to wipe the dust away from his eyes, before turning a smile onto his rescuer. There, the words caught in his throat as he took in the stunning beauty before him.
“Hello,” Gabrielle said cheerfully.
Chapt. 3
For Giulitta, most of the feast passed in a blur. Voices blended together into a stream of noise that splashed over her without registering and her expression was blank as colorful mountebanks and clowns capered for their amusement. She was seated next to Xena, as was the custom for the Princess Flora and the winner of the Flower War. She wasn’t entirely certain whether to be thrilled for the custom or not. No, of course she was thrilled—who wouldn’t want to be seated next to the most wonderful, amazing, and beautiful woman ever? It was just that being in such close proximity to her newfound idol made Giulitta nervous. She was tongue-tied and awkward, prone to dropping food and spilling her drink. Thank all the gods that she never managed to spill anything on Xena—she might not have been able to stay at the feast after embarrassing herself so completely.
She only regained her ability to focus when her father stepped forward to present Xena with her boon.
“She has won this from us twice-over,” he announced to all of the assembled. “First, in defending the honor and the life of my own nephew, Tiberi, and again today by claiming my daughter for victory of the Flower War. For this, I now offer her a boon!”
The feasting hall erupted into cheers and whistles, Giulitta leading them all.
Once it had died down a little, Lord Capoletta turned towards Xena and offered her a little bow. “What boon do you ask of House Capoletta?” he asked grandly.
“None,” Xena replied. “But I thank you for the offer.” She went back to sipping her wine and Giulitta thought she could almost faint at the woman’s cool nonchalance. Would she ever have as much poise? Doubtful.
Her father certainly didn’t. “None?” Lord Capoletta repeated, stupefied. “But you’ve earned it. Please, do not be shy.”
Xena’s expression was a study in mixed emotions as she registered the use of the word ‘shy’ in regards to herself. Giulitta could only imagine what she was thinking and was horribly embarrassed by her father’s gaucherie.
“I assure you, I’m hardly that,” Xena said, raising a slim, black eyebrow. “We’ll be leaving shortly. There’s no time for this boon, even if I had a need for it.”
Horrible and wretched despair crashed over Giulitta. They were leaving? Soon? But she might never see them again! Who knows when they’d be back, if ever! Gabrielle had mentioned that they lived in Greece and were simply traveling to Rome. This might be the only time they ever stepped foot in Verna! How could she live without seeing Xena again?
Dimly, she heard her father trying to please with Xena—as if he could ever win!—and then Giulitta surprised everyone in attendance, including herself, by standing up. “Father, enough,” she said and tried not to blink at how calm and sure she sounded. Almost a little like Xena herself, who was watching her now with clear blue eyes. “She had declined the boon and to press her on it dishonors us, as she is our guest.”
By all the gods at once, she had never spoken to her father like that. She wanted to sink into her chair, maybe even hide under the table, but those brilliant eyes head her fast. “You may never come this way again and Verna sorrows that this is so,” she continued. “But House Capoletta has many friends and allies outside of Verna’s fair walls.” Reaching down into her dust-spattered bodice, she pulled out a necklace on a long chain, her family’s crest emblazoned in gold on it. “Should you ever need for aught, simply show this to anyone who counts us as allies and you will receive it. Otherwise, please keep it, as a reminder of your time here and as a token of House Capoletta’s great esteem.”
And about then Giulitta’s knees gave out and she sat heavily back down in her seat, trembling at her own audacity. The room broke out in thunderous applause, but the only thing Giulitta heard was Xena’s stifled chuckle and her brief murmur of thanks as she wrapped the chain around her wrist.
Gabrielle, also given a place of honor, but next to Tiberi instead of Xena or Giulitta, watched the proceedings with surprise. Hearing Giulitta rebuke her father like that was the last thing she’d suspected from the girl who had spent much of the past two days parroting back his words. Impressed—and trying to remember the exact wording of her speech so she could write it down later—Gabrielle began to stand, intending to go over and congratulate her on being so eloquent. From the faces of many of the people around the table, no one had expected that little bit of spine from the girl.
But she was forestalled as another man stood up and the crowd quieted. From the quality of his clothing, besmeared with dust and dying petals as they were and the instant respect he commanded, Gabrielle guessed he was someone quite important.
“Well-spoken,” he said to Giulitta, raising her glass. “As if I had any doubts on the rightness of my decision, such words of wisdom from one so young has put them firmly to rest. Last night, while Lady Giulitta sat at the bedside of a friend and nursed her back from injury, Lord Capoletta and I sat down to discuss a matter quite dear to both our hearts: that is, the betrothal of his daughter to his prince.” He paused as the room erupted into cheers again, smiling a bit at the applause. “Last night, we came to an agreement. Lady Giulitta and I shall be wed by the end of the summer. In her, I had hoped to simply find a bride of noble birth and gentle temperament, but now I realize that I have found a wife of great wit and wisdom. Thus, I am truly blessed by Juno’s hand. A toast!” he said, holding his glass high. “To the Lady Giulitta, a princess today and soon for always!”
Gabrielle held aloft her glass, but couldn’t bear to drink. At the Prince’s words, her face lost all color, save for to spots high on her cheeks. Her eyes widened and glimmered for a moment with unshed tears, before she blinked them back and managed a tremulous smile. She even brought the cup to her lips for the toast, though Gabrielle was certain the poor girl couldn’t choke down a single swallow. That was it, she had to go to her.
“Excuse me, lady--” Barely hearing, Gabrielle flashed a smile at the young man who approached her and gave him a slight nod as she hurried past. He looked familiar, but she hardly had time to wonder about him now. She had a friend who needed her.
