Journey's End

by LJ Maas

  “Do you have a name, boy?” I asked again.

  “P--Petra, Lord Conqueror.” The boy answered my question.

  “Why do you wear the chains of a prisoner, Petra?”

  “I was caught stealing food, Lord Conqueror.”

  “Food does seem to be the topic today,” I looked back at Gabrielle in amusement and she bowed her head. “So, Petra... why does a boy your age need to steal food? Don’t your mother and father feed you well enough?”

  “It wasn’t for me, Lord Conqueror, it was for my mother and two sisters. My father was a soldier in the Lord Conqueror’s army, but he was killed in the battle of Chaeronea. My mother is sick and can’t work, and my baby sisters need food to eat. I’m sorry, Lord Conqueror,” the boy said, valiantly holding back his tears. “I didn’t know what else to do. I tried to join the Lord Conqueror’s army, to earn money for food, but the soldiers laughed at me.”

  I tried to show no emotion as the boy told his tale. It seemed so melodramatic I wasn’t sure if I was being set up or not. “Where do you live, boy?”

  When the small boy pointed back into the palace gates, I was taken back.

  “You live within the walls of the palace? Who is your mother a hired woman for?” I asked, and then proceeded to look even more confused.

  “Why... she works for you, Lord Conqueror.” He replied, looking at me as if I just told him sheep could fly.

  Now I was not only confused, but angry too. With my country enjoying such prosperity, were there really children within the very walls of my own palace, going hungry?

  “Jailer!” I shouted and the man was at my side in an instant. “Remove this boy’s chains.” I ordered.

  Once free, I motioned to the boy with my hand. “Show me where you live, boy.” I said and suddenly we were all following Petra back through the palace gates.

  * * *

  I knew the small village style houses that existed in cramped rows at the south end of the palace gates, were small and overcrowded. I was in no way, however, prepared for the intolerable conditions when I entered the boy’s home. It was obvious that someone made the attempt to create a living space within the confines of the small room. What few furnishings were there, had been scrubbed clean, but the rats that ran within the walls, went from house to house, carrying their filth and disease wherever they went.

  I felt precariously out of my element, standing in the middle of the small room. My height was a definite hazard as my head nearly grazed the ceiling. Petra led me to a small pallet where a slender woman lay, in obvious pain and fever. I kneeled down to look at the woman, and although she probably only had a touch of the chills, it could be fatal without proper care and nutrition. I fancied myself rather knowledgeable when it came to healing, but that was a great many seasons ago. I became more adept at treating battle wounds than illness, so I did the only I could think to do, when feeling this helpless. I called on Gabrielle.

  “Gabrielle?” I turned, and it seemed that the helpless tone of my voice and the look in my eye, conveyed all that my young slave needed to know.

  Spurred into action, Gabrielle gave Petra instructions to fetch a pail of fresh drinking water, not from the well the other houses used, but from the one nearer the gates. By the time the boy rushed back, I merely stood in the corner and watched as Gabrielle requested items she would need. She took a quill and parchment from one of my messengers and made a list in a careful and precise handwriting. The messenger looked on in awe at my young slave. I doubt he’d ever seen one that could write before.

  Gabrielle looked up at me. “My Lord, we will need dinars for some herbs and fresh food.”

  I nodded and walked out of the house, noticing the small crowd of attention we were drawing. I’m sure the inhabitants of the neighboring houses thought something miraculous was happening, given that I was there. I grabbed one of my guards and dragged him into the house, pushing him in front of Gabrielle.

  I must say it was amazing to watch, and had I been less redeemed, I would have taken the girl’s head off for her forward behavior and presumptuous manner. Gabrielle was ordering people about like... well, like she was me! She looked up at the guard before her.

  “Can you read?” she asked.

  If any other slave had asked that question, she would have been scoffed at, or beaten to the ground. My palace guards were a snobby bunch given their station in the palace, so they would be just the men to do it, too. On this day, however, we were all too astounded at the small slave’s behavior to question her. The tone of authority in Gabrielle’s voice as she took charge of the scenario simply confounded them all, myself included.

  The guard nodded dumbly, then added, “Yes, Miss.”

  “Take this list to the market and the apothecary and return straightaway with the supplies.” She ordered.

  The guard took the list and was about to hurry out the door to do her bidding when he realized, with horror, who he was taking orders from. He quickly turned to me and I saw the blood had nearly drained from the young man’s face.

  “Yes, go, go!” I waved him off with my hand, trying to make it appear like I agreed with everything Gabrielle was doing. In truth, I hadn’t an inkling.

  Gabrielle put two large kettles on the fire to heat water and I now realized it was my turn. I was feeling a little useless, so why not heap a little humiliation on top of it, right?

  “Um... Gabrielle... what... ” I lowered my voice so no one outside could hear me. “What do you want me to do?” I could only pray to Athena that I didn’t sound as pathetic to her as I did to my own ears.

  “Would you... ” she paused as if she were reconsidering the request. “Would you take the children outside?” she asked timidly, waiting for my roar, I’m sure.

  I arched one eyebrow just about as high as it would go. I looked at my feet and two young girls stood there, appearing as if they were looking up a mountain. Neither of them came past my knees and one smiled broadly up at me. She wrapped her arms around my leg and laid her cheek against the trouser clad limb. I froze.

  “Me?” I said weakly. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that Gabrielle smiled just before she turned back to the fire.

  When she turned back my way, she came closer and whispered under her breath. “I need to bathe her and remove the soiled linen and clothes, My Lord. The children shouldn’t see that.”

  She calmly waited for my decision and I even thought about grabbing one of the palace guards, and forcing them to play babysitter. Two things stopped me. One, I have never, in my entire life, asked a soldier to do something that I myself was unwilling or unable to do. Secondly, there was the tiny girl with her arms still wrapped tightly around my leg. I was amazed that something so small could frighten me so completely. She looked at me in a way I have never been gazed upon before. She had no idea, no preconceived notions of who I was or what I was capable of, no knowledge of what horrible things made up my past. I was looking upon that grain of sand again and seeing a completely new world.

  I sighed and gave my best smirk to Gabrielle. I bent down and scooped the larger girl up into my arms. I didn’t have to reach down for the other one. She wrapped herself around my leg and when I tried to walk, it was as if my leg was immobilized. I limped toward the door with my charges.

  “Come on, Boy,” I called to Petra, as I limped through the doorway.

  I could only hope that one of my officers didn’t pass by. If anyone like Atrius saw me in this position, I would have to run him through. I hate to lose good soldiers that way.

  CHAPTER 8

  CONQUEROR... WARRIOR... BABYSITTER?

  I KNEW THAT I WAS coming extremely close to senility, when the ramblings of a girl, not yet five summers old, was entertaining me. I sat on a bench as the two girls jumped in and out of my lap, finally wrestling with one another over who would sit in the cherished position. I lifted them both at once and placed each one on the top of my thighs. They seemed satisfied with the decision and the older girl bega
n to talk.

  That’s when I began looking around, impatiently I admit, for Gabrielle. The younger girl, maybe three summers of age, took that moment to lean herself against my chest. I felt something akin to panic coming on as she snuggled against me, yawned, and promptly fell asleep. Now I was stuck. The older girl went on about the blue of the sky, the small rag doll she held in her grasp, and my long dark hair. As I said, I knew I was losing my mind because at some point, I leaned back against the outside wall of the house and listened in rapt fascination to her ramblings.

  “I--I can take them, Lord Conqueror.” Petra stammered nervously, seeing the way his sisters sprawled across me.

  I knew what the boy felt. It was fear, of me and who I was. His sisters were too young to know, and I received an unconditional adoration from them. This boy, however, knew me and the very thought made some part of me want to hang my head in shame. I think he was mostly afraid that I would lose my temper with the small girls. No telling, if he lived around the palace, when he saw me lose my temper. How could I tell him that I was more terrified of these small, gentle bundles, than they ever could be of me?

  “Leave them be, Petra.” I responded and motioned for him to sit beside my on the bench. “I want you to tell me a few things about living here, boy.”

  I intended to learn what really happened around here and why there were such intolerable living conditions within my palace walls. I knew I would get no better answers than from one who lived here, and also from someone who appeared to be rather honest. True, he stole the food, but I believe the end justified the means. He attempted to work to provide wages for his family, but was scoffed at by the soldiers. I knew that a young boy like Petra would know a great deal about the area he lived in. The young tend to have big ears, yet some pay them little attention. I wanted names and I had a feeling Petra knew them all.

  I watched the boy as he spoke and repeatedly throughout the conversation, his eyes made their way back to the hilt of my sword. The silver lion’s head with its two sapphire eyes, cast rays of light around as the sun caught the metal. I’d had the hilt fashioned when I made a pledge to change my ways. That was five seasons ago, okay, I was progressing slowly, but the lion’s head on the hilt of my sword was my silent reminder.

  It was a remembrance of a time when I thought I could be both warrior and purveyor of justice. It started when Cortese attacked my village, when I ran from my home with the guilt that I’d been responsible for my beloved brother’s death. I became a warrior with one ideal, to defend my country from anyone who sought to steal it. Persians, Romans, the Gaul’s, they all regretted the attempt. I made them sorry they ever landed on Greek soil. It was then, that I earned the title from the people... Lion of Amphipolis.

  I’m not sure why they chose that title. My fierce pride, the courage I displayed, the relentless drive as a warrior? Those were days before I took to the seas, before Caesar, before Chin, before I became a woman filled with a lust for power and revenge. Caesar, I laughed inwardly. He was dead and gone, killed by his own senate some ten seasons ago. So, I took the icon of the lion, to remind me of what I had been... and what I aspired to be again.

  It was sometime later when I felt I’d heard enough from the young boy. I had my suspicions already about who was at the root of stealing money that belonged here within this poor workers community. When Petra innocently confirmed those thoughts I felt a bit of the old Xena creep back into my blood.

  “Guard!” I shouted at one of the palace guard who remained with earshot. “Go to the palace and bring me my healer, Kuros, Captain Atrius, and the chief builder. Bring them immediately.” I hissed to the guard.

  I took a couple deep breaths to try and still the beast that I kept locked inside nowadays. It worried, and even frightened me a small bit, that the monster could rise so easily, after all the effort I put into keeping the demon at bay. I squeezed my eyes closed and felt the heat of my own blood beginning to rise. It wasn’t battle lust, but righteous indignation that spurred the beast on this time. I sat there, my eyes shut, knowing that stealing money in my house could get a man killed. Stealing my money... could get him crucified.

  * * *

  “My Lord?”

  Gabrielle’s soft voice caused my head to turn and my eyes to snap open. When I focused my attention upon her, I watched as my small slave flinched in fear. I knew exactly what my expression looked like, when the beast tread so close to the surface, as I now allowed. I knew because I saw it thousands of times, mirrored in the faces of men, just before I took their lives from them. In that instant, that small tick of a heartbeat, before my gaze softened, and my irises changed from icy cold to warm blue, Gabrielle was able to see the beast that lurked below the surface.

  “It’s all right.” I said as I held out my hand to her.

  I never meant for Gabrielle to see the monster. It was enough that she knew what I did in those days past. I never wanted her to see it in me now. That seemed very important to me and I still wasn’t certain why. I believe that in some ways, Gabrielle was rather innocent. That sounds foolish, doesn’t it? A woman who has spent half her life as a slave, who provides pleasure to her master alone; an innocent. She may have been knowledgeable in the area of her expertise, but there existed an unspecified vulnerability about the girl and I didn’t want to be the one to shatter that.

  Gabrielle laid her hand in mine and I enjoyed the feeling of it for a few heartbeats. The commotion coming down the side street alerted me that the men I sent for were arriving.

  “Gabrielle, take the children inside.” I said, rising and placing the smallest child in my slave’s arms. The older girl woke with a start and Gabrielle took her hand to lead her away.

  “Petra,” Gabrielle called.

  “No. Leave the boy.” I said; my attention focused on the men coming toward us.

  “My Lord?”

  I heard the frightened tone in Gabrielle’s questioning voice and I turned and gave her a very quick smile. “It’s all right, little one, go on now.” I said, touching the backs of my fingers to her cheek.

  She disappeared into the small shack and I stood there for a few moments watching the door she’d walked through. I needed to do something for this lovely slave of mine, something to show her how much she was beginning to mean to me.

  “Lord Conqueror.” Atrius said, pulling from my musing.

  “Captain... we have a problem here I want resolved.” I needed to say it no other way. Atrius has been with me long enough to know the inflection of my voice that went along with this order.

  “Kuros, there is a woman inside,” I pointed into the small shack. “She needs medical attention. Gab-- my slave, has been attending to her, but she needs to be moved somewhere within the palace where she can receive proper care.”

  “Of course, Lord Conqueror,” the small man said and rushed into the house. Kuros was dedicated to his healing arts and I knew the woman would thrive under his care.

  “Sagoris,” I motioned my chief builder forward, “I want you to walk along this entire row of houses, if you can call them that, and then return. In that time I want you to have an idea in your head how we’re going to repair or rebuild this mess.” I ordered.

  “Y-Yes, Lord Conqueror.” The older man stammered, pulling a quill and small parchment from the pouch, at his side. He walked along, peering into doorways and marking on his parchment.

  Atrius looked amused, but I never felt compelled to challenge my battlefield companion regarding those looks. He didn’t look at me that way to appear smug; rather I felt the looks were meant to applaud the way in which I changed over the seasons. Atrius was a terror as a warrior and I felt comfort having him at my side in a battle, but he had a gentle demeanor that was a complete turnaround once he walked from the field of battle. I often wondered how he did it, but it always explained the amused looks he cast my way.

  “The boy needs a job.” I stated simply. “Could we use one more in the message house?”

  “Aye,
Lord Conqueror. I will personally see to it.” Atrius looked down at the boy with one of those amused grins.

  The message house was really just a small room within the confines of the palace where pages and messengers spent their day. Their only task was to deliver messages back and forth between anyone from the cook to myself. We used young boys for the task because they were speedy and small, running between peoples legs, if need be, to get to their destination quickly. It left soldiers and guards free for what they were trained for, which was not to be errand boys.

  “Will you work hard in the service of the Conqueror, boy?” Atrius asked Petra.

  Aye, Captain.” Petra answered and I could barely contain myself at the expression on Atrius’ face. The boy heard the manner in which Atrius addressed me and was emulating the soldier.

  I asked Petra who his father was and given the name, I looked over at Atrius. My Captain shrugged ever so slightly at the name and I had to admit to myself that I rarely took the time to learn the names of any of the soldiers that went to battle with or for me. I came up behind the young boy, who seemed hopeful that we would recognize his father’s name.

  “Petra’s father fell at Chaeronea.” I stated.

  Atrius’ eyes clouded over and he nodded. That one had been a hard fought battle, much more so than many I fought in over the years. I heard just recently they were putting up a marble statue of a lion on the site, overlooking the burial mound of the Macedonian dead.

  “Then your father was indeed a brave soldier.” Atrius acknowledged to the boy. “You stay with me, boy, I’ll show you were you’re to go.”

  I then cast an amused glance at my Captain, the same type of expression that he graced me with for the last few seasons. The look that said, ‘we must be mellowing’. A boy needs a father, to be sure, and I could think of no better mentor for Petra than Atrius.

  “Petra, I’m going to have your mother and sisters moved into the palace. Atrius will show you where they are after he has shown you to your duties. Do you understand?”