Inside The Lion's Mouth

It was water. The cool, pure liquid washed over her, and then she gasped, gulping, tasting the fresh clear water in her mouth, letting it flow over her dried lips, into the dryness of her mouth, filling her empty stomach, clearing her dazed mind.

Someone fell beside her in the next moment, and groaned. She knew immediately it was Ares. As she felt him dip his head into the water, so she dipped her own, until their faces were side by side, and they were gulping and drinking, not just from the fresh oasis water, but from each other.

It was only a moment. Then a firm hand grabbed her shoulder, pulled her up, kicked her on. The noise of the tribespeople surrounded her, but she no longer felt in a dream. Instead she felt alive. She had not only been thirsty for pure water, but for hope; and now she knew Ares was alive, it was possible to go on. To plan and to hope, knowing that where one lived, so could many.

They had been about equal distance from Greece and North Africa when the great wind had come upon them.

Xena had been standing in the bow of the ship, watching as Gabrielle drilled the Amazon women they had rescued from Gurkhan’s island. Many of them had been young girls when they had been taken by Livia in battle to become slaves; they had forgotten the old ways. Gabrielle had settled them onto the ship, and had begun by telling them the ancient stories; tales they would have been told as babes and infants. Then she got them drilling; and now they stood in rows on the ship’s deck, following Gabrielle’s movements with the staff, or the sword.

Xena had noticed that many of them had been bowed, timid, frightened in the first few days on board. They had flinched whenever anyone passed them by. That had all changed. They stood, they ran, and they even laughed.

Eve had been watching the women drill, too; casual, interested looks, both at Gabrielle’s teaching and the women’s obedience. It had drawn her, but less for the technique of fighting than the methods of teaching. She saw that the women began to look at Gabrielle as their queen, and love her; that interested her, that people would serve those they loved even more dearly than one they feared.

Xena remembered that her focus had not entirely been upon Gabrielle that day. She had stood at the bow of the ship and watched as Ares followed Virgil up the ship’s rigging. The two men had been throwing inaudible comments at one another, and laughing. She had watched them that day; she had looked over at Eve, and had seen her watching them too.

And then the great wind had come.

It had tossed them all; she had stumbled, and some of the Amazons had fallen to the ground. Virgil had cried out, and was hanging by an arm; but Ares had reached around casually and pulled him against the ropes to safety. Xena had cast a hasty eye around; Eve was half-kneeling, looking up at Virgil with a hand to her mouth. Then she had straightened and gone back to her post at the ship’s rudder.

Xena had looked down and had seen a white flower, as large as her hand, lying on the deck in front of her. She’d picked it up; inhaled its scent in a movement, touched it to her mouth. Her head had tilted automatically to watch Ares again; she saw he had followed her movement. She had hesitated, then, barely able to move. Only able to see his eyes. Then the boat had tossed again, and she’d run up to Eve. The storm had just begun. The storm had just begun.

They had limped their way into the North African port the next morning, their sails torn to ribbons, the mast snapped in two. Eyes reddened with exhaustion; hands trembling. Land had looked good to them. So they had not noticed how quiet the port was; how empty of vessels the docks lay.

Xena remembered helping Gabrielle from the ship, laying a firm arm around her friend’s tired shoulders. Exchanging a glance as though to say – of course they’d encounter such a storm, when did they not have such adventures?

The arrows began then. She had fallen over her friend, protecting her; watching desperately as the Amazon women scattered, looking around for Eve, for Virgil, for Ares.

But the fight began so quickly she had not been able to keep an eye out for any one of them. Dozens of nomads had fallen upon them. Strange, covered people from a barbarian tribe, gripping curved swords, screaming out curses. They fought well; she fought better, but there were so many of them. Darkness had fallen on her, with a blow from behind; and when she woke, she was blindfolded, her wrists and ankles chained. She could have been the only one to survive. She believed for a time she had been the only one to survive.

But Ares lived.

They had exchanged her brief leathers for the long flowing garments of a northern woman, whether for modesty or practicality Xena was unsure. They had allowed her to keep her boots; for that she was glad, trudging each day through sand, or over tiny pebbled plains. She had no idea where they were headed.

She supposed they were to be slaves, perhaps sold to the great city of Timbuktu of which she’d heard. The irony - that they, who had just rescued many many slaves, were now to be enslaved themselves – did not escape her. She had, of course, made many slaves in her time herself. There was nothing to be done about that. It was just a moment; it was just a tilt of fate’s wheel, whether she was slave or enslaver.

She supposed that she would remain blindfolded until they had taken her through the secret desert ways to the city.

But they pushed her into a tent that evening and tore off the cloths about her face. She scrambled into a corner of the tent, but they had no intention of beating or humiliating her further. Instead they left her.

Xena touched her face carefully; it was burned and blistered from days under the harsh sun. Wincing, she looked down at her wrists and ankles, which were similarly blistered from the heat of the chains. The flowing garments had protected the rest of her body.

They had left a bowl of water in the centre of the tent, and she plunged her face into it, drinking greedily, all the while watching the opening of the tent hopefully. When at last it moved, she leapt back, standing straight, hiding her chains under her garments as best she could.

A tall woman approached her, with something of a smile on her face.

“I trust your thirst has been satisfied?” she asked, indicating the water.

Xena cleared her throat painfully and nodded.

“I thank you for your hospitality,” she returned sarcastically, but the woman smiled again, looking pleased.

“We have your things . . .” And she tossed a bundle at Xena’s feet.

Her clothes. More than that, her sword, her chakram. With a movement like lightning, Xena grabbed at her precious weapon and threw it. It encircled the tent, bouncing from pole to pole, and finally slicing through her chains. Then it headed straight for the woman’s throat.

Xena grabbed it a second before death. But the woman did not so much as flinch.

“We wondered – and now I am vindicated.” The woman’s smile grew broader. “I am Kahina. And you are – you are, Xena are you not?”

“I’m so furious that you don’t want to know my name,” Xena growled, advancing. She was pleased to see the woman’s smile disappear at last. “What have you done with my friends? And what – were you planning on doing with me?”

She jabbed at the woman’s neck and she collapsed on the ground, trembling.

“I – we rescued you from the nomads this morning –“

“Bought me, you mean,” Xena replied scornfully. “Did you think I would become your slave?”

“No – our redeemer –“

Xena’s eyes widened, as the woman began to cough. Hastily, she released the pinch and watched as Kahina recovered on the floor of her tent. She hesitated, then offered the woman her hand.

“You bought me this morning from the raiders who attacked our ship,” she mused, as Kahina composed herself. “What about my companions? Are they here?”

“No,” Kahina replied, her voice rasping. Xena’s heart sank. “Just one.”

She turned and gave a sharp command. Xena realised that the guards had been standing at the opening to the tent the whole time, and could have entered at any time.

“Why did your men not assist you?” she asked.

“You are Xena. We knew you wouldn’t kill –“

Xena frowned. She wondered what stories these strange tribespeople had heard of her. She had killed many times.

“We need your help, Xena. When we heard that those raiders had captured a woman of your description, carrying a chakram – we knew we had to find you, ask you for help,’ Kahina said urgently. “We have many scrolls about your doings. It is well-known you hate the Romans . . .”

Xena stiffened.

“They are encroaching on our ancient lands. They are provoking war, capturing our people as slaves! We are too small to fight them alone . . .we have collected our gold for you . . .”

“I don’t work for money,” Xena told her quietly. “I don’t work for nations, and I’ve never worked for slavers.”

Kahina stepped back at that. She paused, then turned, and left the tent.

Moments later a figure was pushed through the opening of the tent, and collapsed at Xena’s feet. She gave a cry.

“Ares!”

She pulled the blindfold from his face, and brought her sword down on his chains, to free him. Like her, his skin was blistered and burned; his wrists and ankles rubbed raw.

“What, they’ve decided you should be their barbarian queen, Xena?” Ares rasped, and Xena gave a gulp of laughter before drawing him to the water.

“Something like that,” she admitted. “I’m just wondering what Gabrielle wrote in those scrolls of hers. I’m wondering who they think I am.”

“They’ve got Gabrielle’s scrolls? Funny they didn’t buy her too, then,” Ares coughed, gulping mouthfuls of water.

Xena froze. Her heart gave a painful leap, and she took a deep inward breath.

“You’re right,” she said in a small voice. “She must not have been there, Ares. It means . . . it means . . .”

She must have died in the raid. Xena found herself falling to the ground. Gabrielle must have been killed in the raid.

She had no thought for escape that night. Everything was hazy about her; she was dazed. She sat on the floor of the tent, and realised that even without the blindfold she could not see. There was nothing left to see.

She noticed dully that Ares put her sword away from her, casually moving it from her sight; she noticed that he did not speak any more to her, but let her lie there, silent, staring. When the wind rose up, the candles flickered and went on; he lay beside her, then, still quiet, but with his body strong around her.

In the morning the tent glowed rose and apricot with the dawn’s light. Xena slipped out of Ares’ sleeping arms and stood at the opening of the tent. Great dunes of sand surrounded them. In the distance she could see some odd rock formations, lit up by the early morning sun. It looked something like a lion’s head, and the idea tugged at her memory.

“She may not be dead.”

Xena started, then relaxed as she felt Ares come up behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Eve . . . Virgil . . . those Amazon women, who we took responsibility for . . . Gabrielle . . .” Xena choked, stopped.

“They could all be alive, part of another nomadic tribe, or even back at the ship,” Ares said firmly. “Here isn’t the only place they could be.”

Xena nodded once, at that. She turned her head and looked at him carefully, then she pointed.

“Gabrielle told me about those rocks, once. There was an ancient king, someone out of a fable, called Alexander. He tried to conquer the winds of the desert . . . but he was conquered instead. She said his army sheltered in the mouth of a lion.”

Ares looked over at the distant stone formation.

“A king from a fable?” he began doubtfully.

“Gabrielle used to say that even fables contained some truth. That they had to begin somewhere . . . in the story, they marched but a few days from the coast. It was not far from Carthage – and judging how far we have marched, that could be exactly where we are. Also, the nomads said the Romans are encroaching on their lands. We cannot be far from the coast.”

Ares nodded, and then something of a grin came over his face.

“I’m wondering what kind of story they’ll make of this, then . . .”

“As long as we’re not round to listen to it,” Xena told him, then ushered him back into the tent. “Hurry, they’re coming. Just follow my lead, all right?”

Kahina not only brought flat breads with cheese for their morning meal, but scented oils to anoint their sore blistered skin.

“I was hoping . . . after a night’s rest you might be more prepared to listen to our tale . . .”

Xena threw her a sharp look, then nodded.

“Firstly, perhaps you can tell us a few things. What do you know of me – and my companion, here?”

Kahina settled herself on a cushion on the floor.

“We gained a few scrolls of your legendry deeds many years ago now . . . then we heard you and your friend had returned from the dead and were fighting for good again.” She leaned forward. “All those adventures, where you battled evil kings, vicious warlords and cruel gods . . . I knew you’d help us, too . . .”

Ares coughed, and Xena nudged him hastily.

“I don’t know your companion . . .” Kahina went on tactfully. “But the raiders said that he had been by your side when you were taken.”

“And . . . no other?” Xena whispered.

“No other.”

Xena found she had to look away for a moment. She drew a hand hastily across her eyes, and tightened her mouth.

“Tell me about these Romans.”

They crept out of the tent and headed towards the lion-headed rock before dawn broke the next morning.

Kahina had explained to them their trade routes, and how the Romans were interfering with them; she had no real idea how large the Roman empire was, however, and no understanding of the impossibility of stopping Roman expansion with a single battle. Xena had not bothered to explain this to her. It would be like explaining the days of rain to which she was used in Greece; or a mountain covered in snow. Incomprehensible.

The camp was quiet so early in the morning. Camels snorted, pulling on their halters; a sleepy slave-girl lifted her small head and watched the pair, their escape reflected in her large dark eyes. The wind rose, whipping up the grains of sand so they stung at the reddened skin of their faces.

Xena kept her eyes fixed on the rocks. They had containers of water hung about their necks, but the small amount would not sustain them unless the lion rock also had reserves of water. She dreamt of an oasis; she imagined the cool dampness of caves, and the reflection of water on dripping walls. The sun began to beat down on them overhead, and they grew dizzy with heat. But the lion-headed stone drew closer; they strode on resolutely. There was nowhere to rest; and there was no thought of turning back.

Xena refused to think of those she had lost. Instead she recalled methodically what Kahina had said about the Romans. They had set up a fort only a few days ride away. They had taken a whole tribe away, and used them as playthings in strange war games, when a great general had visited . . . they were great soldiers, but knew nothing of the desert.

The sun had disappeared and the moon had risen before they felt solid earth under their feet once more. A great shadow fell on them; and when they looked back it was the shadow of a lion. A cave loomed, and Xena saw that they were to enter the lion’s mouth, just as the mythological king had. She shivered, stumbled over a loose rock, and fell to her knees.

Ares was there in an instant, giving her the last mouthfuls of water from his container, holding her firmly by the arm when she tried to get up once again.

“Wait a moment. Just – rest, will you?” he said abruptly. “We’re here now. The storm can’t get us, and either can the nomads. There’s no need to enter the li – the cave yet.”

Xena acquiesced finally, and watched as Ares sat down beside her, exhausted. His face was white and strained. She reached a hand over to him, and he offered her a grin.

“And I thought my first shot at mortality was rough,” he joked mildly.

Xena smiled a little. “Only because you spent it with a hangover.”

Ares laughed at that. “And your voice coming from Callisto’s mouth – don’t forget that.”

“Yes – I remember Gabrielle screamed once when I woke her –“ Xena faltered, then covered her face with her hands. Ares moved closer, wrapping his arms around her, and Xena rested her head on his shoulder. He told her softly it would be all right; she didn’t think it would be, but she nodded anyway.

“Xena!”

She felt someone grab her shoulder, shaking her, and she groaned.

“Is it my watch? I –“

“Xena! Quickly, we’ve got to move!”

She sat up, her head drumming, her mouth dry. Ares was crouched before her, his face anxious.

“The nomads?” Xena asked, pulling herself up.

“Come and see.”

She followed him around the curve of the rock, and then up a small stony path. Her stomach complained; she licked her lips, tasting only sand. Then the path curved around and Xena stopped.

It was an army. No nomad tribe; it was a sea of soldiers, heading towards them, the sun glinting off their weapons.

“Romans.” Xena hissed. “After me – or the nomads?”

Ares shrugged. “Makes little difference if they find us.”

Xena nodded. She, at least, had quite a reputation.

“Seems as though we’d better go inside the caves and find a decent place to hide until the army has passed,” she suggested. “And there’ll probably be water inside there, somewhere . . .”

Ares nodded, licking his cracked lips. “I wouldn’t say no to a drink.”

Xena grinned. “Just not the hangover.”

They climbed down to the opening of the large cave. Stalactites hung down, like teeth; large stones littered the floor. The light was swallowed up just paces inside, and Xena grimaced with annoyance.

“Hang on,” she commanded, holding out her hand to Ares. He clung on obediently. Then his hand travelled further; over her wrist to her arm, to her shoulder, then across her throat, to the curve of her face. She wondered if he could feel her smile.

There was a glimmer in the darkness.

A faint glow urged Xena on; then a pool of light drew her. She walked forward hastily, then froze.

“What is it?” Ares asked.

“Did you hear that sound?”

There was a faint dripping. Xena grasped Ares’ hand more firmly, and pressed on. The sound became louder, even as the cave became lighter and clearer. They turned a corner and uttered simultaneous exclamations.

The cave was lit up by an opening from above; the blue sky could be seen, and sunlight poured inside. Directly beneath the round opening was a small pool of clear water, glinting in the light. They made for it directly and plunged their faces into its coolness.

Xena took great mouthfuls of the pure water before bathing her face and hands into the precious liquid. She laughed as Ares choked greedily on the stuff, and splashed him playfully.

“I didn’t really believe . . .” he admitted finally, his face and upper body soaked.

“Nor did I,” Xena replied thoughtfully. “But if there can be water in the desert – well, there can be a whole lot of other things, too. I’m going to believe they’re alive, Ares. Gabrielle would never give up on me so easily. We’ll find our way to the coast, and we’ll find Gabrielle, and Eve, and Virgil too.”

A sound echoed through the cave and they froze.

“The Romans?”

Xena nodded cautiously. “They must be camping just outside the Lion’s Mouth.”

They waited, scarcely breathing, but it seemed no one would broach the entrance.

“We’ll wait till nightfall, and then spy them out,” Xena decided softly. “I want to know who they’re after.”

“And if it is the nomads? Will you help them?” Ares asked curiously.

Xena looked back at him. He didn’t care, either way – unlike Gabrielle, who would have felt strongly that she should help the weaker tribespeople. Her own instincts told her that any fight against Rome was a good one. But something else reminded her that she had been taken as a slave by this same tribe. Whichever side she took would not necessarily be the right one.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t care about them at the moment. I don’t care who is right, and who is wrong. I don’t care who gets hurt. I just want to find my friends, and find them safe again. That’s what I’d fight for right now. That’s all I can think about . . .”

Ares looked at her and nodded.

“I understand that,” he said. “But if you asked, I’d fight for whoever you chose.”

Xena smiled a little at that. “I know you would. But would you lay aside your sword at my command? I wonder.”

They waited until it was dark, and the moon was directly overhead. Then they crept out of the cave and saw the Roman camp spread out before them.

"Wait here," Xena directed Ares softly. "I want to see who is commanding this sortie."

She moved stealthily to the largest tent, guarded by two sets of soldiers. She moved amongst the shadows, slitting an entrance in the tent's side. Then she pushed aside the fabric and stared.

They were playing a game.

The commander had a handful of carved ivory pieces in front of him. He selected a few, shook them, and threw them on the table, watching how they fell.

His companion laughed a little at the formation, and scooped the pieces up.

"You win again, I see," Gabrielle said.

"I do. The gods are against you, tonight," the commander replied with a chuckle.

"Perhaps." Gabrielle rolled a few pieces idly under her fingertips. "Fate has a funny way of turning around, though."

She shuffled the pieces in her hands, then tossed them in front of her. The commander gasped.

"I win."

"Yes, you do." And Xena drew herself up, and walked towards the pair. She took the ivory pieces in her hand, and threw them up, grabbing them out of the air before they fell to the table. "Funny, though -" And she tossed up the pieces once more. "Sometimes winning feels an awful lot like losing."

Suddenly the gamepieces were showering over them, bouncing on the table, on the floor, all over the tent. The commander cried out, and threw his hands over his head - then cried out again as he saw that Gabrielle and Xena had disappeared before his eyes.

Xena led Gabrielle through the darkness of the cave before stopping just in front of the pool. The moon was directly above the opening; it floated quietly in the water.

"I thought you were dead. I thought -" Then she threw her arms around her friend, holding her close, letting the tears fall at last. "I thought you were dead!"

Gabrielle said nothing, just allowed Xena to hold her and cry, before lifting up her face. "The others are safe. I sent them back to Greece - I said I knew where you were. That I'd find you."

Xena's eyes narrowed. "You knew the nomads had taken me - so you sent the Romans after them, and me? Knowing that you were beginning a war?"

Gabrielle shrugged helplessly. "It was all I knew! It was all I could do, Xena! I didn't care if it was a war - I didn't care if every soldier and nomad died because of it - I needed to find you!"

She closed her eyes, her face strained and tired. Then she sighed. "How do we get out of this mess, Xena?"

Xena shook her head. "I don't know." She drew Gabrielle close again, knowing they weren't talking about the war anymore. "I don't know."

It was the memory of the little slave-girl that finally prompted Xena to act. She couldn't bear the thought of the wide-eyed child's sleep being woken by a Roman battalion.

She left Ares and Gabrielle sleeping, and stole a Roman horse, and set off towards the nomad's camp. It would take the rest of the night to reach there. She had no idea how she would return.

Xena thought she would always remember the camp being coloured with the hues of sunrise. The tents glowed, and she wondered idly how they would look, afire in the desert.

"Xena!"

Xena turned sharply, and saw Kahina approaching.

"There's a Roman army approaching, a half day's ride away, at the Lion's Head rocks," Xena told her abruptly, without dismounting. "They're searching for me here. Leave now, and you'll survive. Otherwise there won't be anything of you left, not a memory."

"Not even a footnote in one of your friend's scrolls."

Xena looked up sharply at Kahina's face, and found herself paling at its expression.

"She doesn't mentioned those you chose to abandon, does she?"

She hesitated, but Kahina said no more. So she turned her horse's head towards the stones. It would be a longer journey back, if she was to avoid the Roman army.

The sun was dipping below the horizon as she led the weary horse back to the caves. The camp had disbanded. The place was empty and soundless. Xena wondered if they'd penetrated the cave, discovered the water, and her friends too. She wondered if everyone would die that day because of her.

"Xena!" A figure separated itself from the shadows, and came running towards her, wrapping arms about her, holding her close. "You're safe . . . I thought they'd taken you again . . ." Gabrielle gasped, shuddering. "But you came back -" Ares followed, ducking his head a little and watching her from a distance. Xena looked up at him from over Gabrielle's shoulder, and smiled. She was weary, and thirsty, and a little sad. But it was still true. Her friends were dead, and now they were alive again. If the soldiers did not clash today, they would another day, not because of her, but because war went on in the world whether they knew of her or not.

"Gabrielle, you need - you need to write about this," Xena said to her urgently. "It's not a song, or an epic poem, or anything like that. But you need to write it. You need -"

Gabrielle lifted her head. "You mean a poem that says that my friends are alive even though half the world is dead, and I'm happy anyway."

Xena's mouth opened a little. "Yes."

"It can still be a story, though," Gabrielle went on softly, leading her friend inside the cave. "Because sometimes . . ."

Sometimes stories were true, even when they weren't, Xena remembered. She held out her hand to Ares, and rested her head on his shoulder as he slipped his arm around her. It couldn't be true that she was happier now than she had ever, ever been. It couldn't be.

...h.o.m.e...
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