Journey's End

by LJ Maas

I HAD BEEN HUNGRY ALL THE YEARS

  “HOW MANY TIMES do I have to tell you? I do not want any food!” I picked up the tray from the floor, flinging it, contents and all, toward the staircase.

  I knew they were there, hiding around the corner on the steps, so I picked up the flask of wine that was previously sitting on the floor outside my door, and tossed it down the hall as well. I stepped back into my room and slammed the door shut, turning the latch to lock it.

  I crossed the darkened room to the open balcony. Leaning my back against the wall just inside the room, I let my body glide to the floor, allowing the chilly night air to sweep over me. The tears came again and I could no longer stop them. Just when I thought there were none left to cry, I would think of Gabrielle, remember exactly what her beautiful face looked like when I slapped her, then the weeping would begin again.

  The day passed for me, just like this. The moon was high up in the nighttime sky by now, but I lit neither lamp nor candle. I left my rooms in the same darkened state I felt surrounding my heart. I was acting like a spoiled brat throwing the trays Sylla left, but physical violence seemed to be what I always reverted to, when angry or frightened. Hadn’t I proved that earlier, when I lashed out at Gabrielle?

  I heard the pounding on my door and recognized Delia’s voice as she spoke with Sylla.

  “I tried to leave the food like you said, but she threw it at the guards.” Sylla’s young voice sounded worried, making me sorry I acted like a petulant child.

  “Never mind, Sylla. Go get a fresh tray and bring it up to Gabrielle, I’ll tend to the Conqueror.” Delia answered my maid.

  “Did you hear, Delia, what they’re saying about Gabrielle?” Sylla asked.

  “If I listened to every bit of gossip that came through my kitchen I’d get precious little done with my day.” Delia responded gruffly, and then seemed to reconsider her harsh answer, because her next words sounded softer, more understanding. “Yes, I heard what they’re saying.”

  “Do you believe it?” Sylla asked.

  “Not for a minute. Gods, Gabrielle is as honest a person as they come. Now go on, bring some hot tea and broth up and make sure she eats at least a bit.”

  “Lord Conqueror?” Delia resumed the knocking.

  I sat there unmoving, wishing Hades would just take me now and get it over with. I heard a key in the metal lock and it didn’t surprise me at all that Delia found a key to my room. I continued to sit there on the floor, watching as Delia moved expertly through the shadows of the room. She lit a large oil lamp in the corner of the room and proceeded to move around the spacious area, lighting one more lamp, and a number of candles. I lifted my head at the scent of the melting wax, it gave off an odd comforting smell that always reminded me of home, even when I didn’t have one.

  I sat with my chin resting on my arms, which hugged my legs to my chest. Delia came closer and I could tell what I looked like through the expression in her eyes. My hair was in terrible disarray, my eyes red and swollen, they burned from long hours of crying. She came closer and pulled a chair from the table, positioning it in front of me.

  When she sat down and ran a gentle hand through my hair, brushing it away from my eyes, I pulled away. I couldn’t bear the tenderness, it reminded me of something Gabrielle would do, and the tears fell again.

  “Don’t be nice to me,” I scooted away a few more inches, turning my face toward the open balcony.

  “So, the two of you had a row, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” Delia replied, understandingly.

  “It can never be fixed,” I responded flatly.

  I believe the ominous tone to my voice actually got through to Delia and she began to wonder.

  “Exactly what did happen here this morning?” she asked.

  “I hit her,” I answered, trying not to break down completely in front of the older woman.

  “Oh, Xena,” Delia sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair.

  I looked up into her eyes at last and I didn’t see the rejection I was expecting. I saw a compassion that surprised and overwhelmed me a bit.

  “Don’t you hate me?” I asked, knowing how much Gabrielle meant to Delia.

  She gave me one of those bittersweet smiles of hers. “Could my hating you, make you feel any worse about what you’ve done?”

  I couldn’t answer past the tightness of my throat and simply shook my head back and forth.

  “Then what would be the point?” she replied firmly.

  “I feel betrayed,” I commented, feeling rather sorry for myself.

  “You feel betrayed? How do you think that girl over there feels, Gods, it’s a wonder she has any sanity left at all, living with you! One moment, you tell her that you love her, showering her with gifts and affection. Then, you refuse her freedom and keep her as a slave. Don’t you think she pictured those actions as a form of betrayal?”

  “She knew about the slave revolt and never told me!” I shouted back.

  “Is that what this nonsense is all about? Good Gods, woman!” Delia jumped up from the chair and stood before me with her hands on her hips.

  “But, Gabrielle admitted it,” I responded weakly, “she said she knew.”

  “Xena, everyone knew... sweet Athena, even I knew!”

  “She should have told me when it was going to happen... I could have done something,” I countered defensively.

  “I’m sure Gabrielle had no idea it was actually going to happen.”

  “Wha--” I was stunned into silence.

  “Xena, Carra plans a slave revolt every day. Gabrielle brought her into the kitchen and I heard them talking, the cooks, scullery maids, Gods, half the guards in the palace have heard her plan this fool’s venture! No one ever took her seriously. I don’t think Gabrielle knew that it would actually take place this morning, any more than I.”

  Delia stood in front of me and I felt all the anger within me simply dissipate into nothing. I was left weak and confused. I simply didn’t understand how the morning’s events could have gone so wrong.

  “She just admitted it,” I said, almost as if to myself. “Why didn’t she explain?”

  “Did you really ask her, Xena, or did you interrogate? Did you assume her innocence or her guilt? When you looked at her, was it with an expression of understanding for the woman you loved, or was it harsh and judgmental?” Delia asked.

  I didn’t even have to respond to Delia’s questions, she knew the answers as well as I, it was written on my face.

  “Gods, what have I done?” I muttered burying my face in my hands. “What am I going to do?”

  “What do you want to do, Xena?” she asked me.

  “Die.” I answered quickly, no trace of humor in my answer.

  “And your second choice?” Delia tossed right back at me.

  “How do I make it right with her, Delia?” My voice sounded so small to my own ears.

  “You can do two things, that will be a start.”

  I looked into her eyes and knew what she was going to say before she uttered a word, two of my greatest fears in one fell swoop.

  “I have to apologize and ask her to forgive me.” I answered.

  “That’s one.” Delia sat down in the chair once more. “If you love this girl as much as I think you do, then you need to make her a free woman.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments as I tried to envision myself doing either. “Do you think she’ll forgive me if I free her?”

  “Xena,” Delia shook her head slightly. “You don’t barter with people you love. You give and sometimes it’s returned--”

  “--and, sometimes it’s not,” I finished, lowering my forehead to rest against my arms.

  “Yes, that is the chance we take when we give our heart away. It’s the same with friendship. When you gave Gabrielle the writing materials and the desk, did you give it to her thinking you could make her like you?”

  “No,” I lifted my head indignantly, “of course not!”

  “Of course you didn�
��t. You did it for no other reason than to make her happy. That’s what we do when we care for people, Xena. You have to give this beautiful eagle it’s freedom Xena, this magnificent creature needs to know what freedom is. Only if she flies back to you, will you know if she is truly yours.”

  “I’ve never said it before,” I mumbled.

  “Said what?”

  “Apologized... I’ve never told anyone that I was... sorry.” I answered against my arm, thoroughly embarrassed that a woman my age should have to ask for advice about such things.

  “Ever?” Delia sounded surprised, and I shook my head.

  “It will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done,” she stated.

  “Thanks,” I replied with a great deal of sarcasm, “I feel loads better.” I paused before speaking again. “I don’t know if I can.” I added.

  “You can, and you will,” she responded, rising from the chair and moving to my side.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know you,” she answered, tugging on my elbow. “Come on, don’t make this old back lift you up. Gods, you’re a big girl,” she added as I rose.

  I was amazed. The course of action seemed so clear to Delia. I was even more astounded that a woman who was only ten, maybe fifteen summers older than myself was calling me a girl. This was Delia, however, and I thanked the Gods for a friend such as her.

  “First thing you’re going to do is to soak for a bit in the tub, wash your face and hair. I’ll make up something to lay across your face to get rid of some of that swelling and puffiness... you look like Hades.”

  “I’m sure he appreciates that,” I added as she pushed me into the bathing chamber.

  “After your bath you’re going to relax yourself with a cup of hot tea and then get something into your stomach.”

  “I’ll throw up if I eat anything!” I shouted from the other room.

  “Then you go ahead and throw up... we’ll get some more into you after you do.”

  I eased my body into the tepid water without adding any more from the buckets that were kept heating by the fire. The cool water felt good on my hot skin and I splashed my face with the soothing liquid. I could hear Delia as she answered the door to Sylla.

  “She drank the tea, but I couldn’t get her to eat a bite,” my maid said; I assume in regards to her attempt to get Gabrielle to eat.

  “Go down and fix a light tray for the Conqueror and be quick about it.” Delia ordered.

  “Delia... Gabrielle, she has a bruise on her face”

  “Sylla, I want not one word to pass your lips about that, do you understand? You and I are the only people who know about that. If I hear one bit of gossip, I’ll know it was you and I’ll have you demoted to scrubbing chamber pots for the next twenty seasons! Understand?”

  “Yes, Delia.”

  I heard the door close and Delia came in a bit later.

  “Here, lay this across your eyes for a spell,” she said.

  “Delia, would you do me a favor?” I asked. When she nodded, I continued. “Will you check on Gabrielle? Make sure she’s not hurt too badly.”

  “You can do that yourself, when you get out of your bath,” she answered.

  “I know... I mean, I will. I am going over there, but I need to go to the jail first. I need to speak with Carra.”

  “Before speaking with Gabrielle?” Delia asked in confusion.

  “Yes, it’s important. I need to know why Carra deliberately led me to believe Gabrielle betrayed me. I want to hear it from her,” I explained.

  “Very well. I’ll make sure Gabrielle is all right, then. Would you like me to do anything more for you, Xena?” Delia asked.

  “No.” I called out after she turned to go. “Delia?” She spun around to face me again. “I... I’m sorry I’m... such an idiot most of the time.”

  As apologies go it may have been lacking a little something in the way of finesse, but it was my first attempt, after all.

  “There... was that so hard?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I offered her the best imitation of a smile I could muster given the circumstances.

  Delia smiled back at me. Patting my shoulder, she turned to leave once more.

  “Keep it up... it gets easier every time you do it.”

  * * *

  As prisons go, this certainly wasn’t the worst one I ever saw. There were dungeons under the palace, cells that were carved from the hard rock of the castle’s foundation. The damp and darkened caves were still used on a rare occasion, but a few seasons ago, I ordered a new building erected to be used as a prison. It was a low, stone structure that existed beyond the soldier’s barracks. Although the conditions were far from hospitable, the filth and the rats weren’t quite up to the same level the old dungeon cells were.

  No one stopped me as I made my way into the building. I’m sure the look on my face didn’t encourage much social conversation, plus I had a feeling that even after cleaning myself up, I still looked like Tartarus. Once the outer and heavy inner doors were opened for me, I asked the jailer which cell Carra was in. He looked a little surprised, then a little frightened. He said that because of the never-ending racket she made, screaming obscenities, they placed her in the last cell in the building, at the far end of the darkened, twisting hall. He still had the strange look on his face. As I recalled, it was the same odd expression I was given by the guard who unlocked the inner doors. I could find nothing out of the ordinary to warrant the strange looks, so I picked my way slowly through the gloomy corridor, past empty cells, until I neared the end of the building. I heard voices, but the darkness kept me in the shadows. Peering around the corner, I already knew who I would see under the light of the torch, hung high upon the wall. I could distinguish her voice in my sleep, even hoarse, like it was now, obviously from candlemarks of crying.

  Gabrielle sat on a bench, directly across from the cell Carra was being held in. The tall woman leaned against the bars, and at this moment, I liked the way she looked at Gabrielle even less than before. I was not going for a repeat performance, however. Yes, my first instinct was to burst in on the pair, confront Gabrielle with her betrayal, but that wasn’t in me now. Gods, that realization surprises me more than anyone.

  Gabrielle was right about me, it was because I didn’t trust her, in her commitment or her love for me, that I never freed her from slavery. Here, I thought I trusted her with my life, but the truth of the matter is that trusting her with my life was simple; I never thought my own life worth much at all. Gabrielle’s life was another thing entirely. She was worth everything, and once I realized that she might be the one soul to be able to illuminate the dark recesses of my heart with her special brand of light, I understood all of it; why I treated Gabrielle as I did, most importantly, why I held back from making her a free woman. It amazed and shamed me that while lying in a tub of rapidly cooling water, I would have such an epiphany.

  Now, my aching eyes taking in the small figure, her shoulders slumped forward as an unmistakable indication of her own feelings of sadness and loss, I am ashamed that I forced Gabrielle to choose between her lover and her friend. That’s what it boiled down to, in its most unrefined sense. Gabrielle never had any friends before this, nor experienced the gamut of emotions that giving away your heart to another person can create. The truth was that I placed her in a situation, she could never hope to liberate herself from, and gave her none of the resources necessary to combat the problems that would arise. I thought only of myself, how Gabrielle was changing my life. It never occurred to me to think how the change in her life was affecting the girl.

  I leaned against the wall, completely covered in dark shadows, listening to what was transpiring. Yes, I suppose this was wrong, but my fear was that it would be the only way I would know of my young lover’s thoughts and feelings. I was probably the last person she would feel like confiding them to. As I listened, my heart broke all over again. It simply never occurred to me that Gabrielle felt like a friend and a lover we
re betraying her all in the space of one day.

  “But, why, Carra?” Gabrielle’s strained voice was heard.

  “Why?” The prisoner’s deeper voice boomed back. “Look around you, Gabrielle. In case you’ve forgotten, I am a slave... we are slaves! The difference is that I don’t have a master that dresses me in fine clothes, gives me lots of food to eat, and hands me expensive gifts!”

  “Xena’s not like that,” Gabrielle countered.

  “Xena? You do mean the Conqueror, don’t you? You act as if she isn’t your master... that she means something to you,” Carra continued.

  “She does.” Gabrielle’s head jerked back up and I watched, tears in my own eyes when I saw those emerald orbs begin to burn with fire. “And why shouldn’t she?” Gabrielle was standing now, facing her friend down. “She cares about me... she,” Gabrielle paused to choke back a sob, “she loves me.” She finished, her jaw set in a defiant pose.

  “Oh, really,” Carra purred. “What part of I love you gave you that bruise then?”

  Gabrielle’s hand flew up to her cheek, her fingers tracing the discolored mark. I watched as she turned from the light, her face now hidden from my view. I didn’t need to see her however, to know that tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t deny what happened, nor did she try. I felt my own tears begin again, when I saw her turn back toward Carra, a very small voice attempting to explain.

  “She felt betrayed,” Gabrielle said softly, staring into the darkness at nothing. I watched and wondered if she was remembering the moment as I replayed it over and over again in my own mind’s eye.

  “She felt betrayed? Gods, Gabrielle after all you do for her, the way you service her, what right does she have to feel like the victim?” Carra shouted at the small blonde.

  “Every right,” Gabrielle’s voice whispered. “She had a right... not for striking me, but for the way she felt. I did betray her.”

  “You didn’t betray her, I simply led her to believe you knew more than you did. I let her think I was fucking you,” Carra said without emotion.

  “What?” Gabrielle’s face held an expression of complete confusion “Carra... why would you do such a thing? I thought you were my friend.”