'She Can Speak Scythian'

By

Phineas Redux

—O—

Description:— Gabrielle finds herself sought after as a translator when a Scythian ambassador comes to Athens.

Note:— The content of this story is based on the first chapter of Alexander Kinglake's 'Eothen', of 1844.

Disclaimer:— MCA/Universal/RenPics, or somebody, own all copyrights to everything related to 'Xena: Warrior Princess' and I have no rights to them, dam' it.

—O—

"Yeah, she can speak Scythian. Why?"

Xena was, as usual, suspicious of men arriving mid-afternoon fishing for Gabrielle's services—in any area.

The unexpected knock had come on the door of their room just after lunch: the women staying at the quiet Inn because the Amazon Queen cum Potidaean bard wished to attend some Athenian literary festival or other; Her Imperial Majesty making her wishes known in no uncertain manner a few days previously when her Consort initially showed, at best, only a half-hearted interest in the matter.

"Excuse me, Cimon of Anticyra at your service." The tall young man, his flowing black locks lying across his shoulders like waves on the sea-shore, gazed naively back at the warrior's hard stare. "I am in the service of the Senator Archidamus. The point being a high-ranking ambassador from Scythia has today honoured the city with his presence—on the occasion of certain political talks; but, he apparently not knowing any other than his mother-tongue, we find ourselves in search of a translator. Someone told us Gabrielle can speak the ling—er, language."

The tall Princess wavered on the door-sill for a few breaths, then capitulated.

"Oh, come in." She stood aside to let their visitor enter. "Gabs, company—you're wanted."

"Wanted? I ain't done anythin' wrong."

This in a sweet treble, that of a perfectly innocent citizen—but then, as Xena well knew, her blonde Amazon friend could dissemble with the best, when required. "Well, ya won't have reason not t'meet this guy, then. Come on, stir your stumps."

The Amazon Queen had been resting genteelly after a particularly fulfilling lunch; though Xena would insist, on these occasions, the blonde warrior snored like a hog—much to Gabrielle's ire. At the present moment she reluctantly rose from the thick soft mattress of the wide bed near the open window; shuffled her short skirt into some semblance of order; made a cursory attempt to make sure her low top wasn't too low; and gazed uninterestedly at the visitor.

"So, what've I done, then. What was that about some Scythian?"

"An Ambassador from that country has arrived today for, er, general discussions on a range of subjects of interest to both Athens and Scythia." Cimon favoured the blonde with a wide smile, halting just this side of an approving grin—Xena's low growl going unremarked. "Unfortunately we have just discovered he can only speak Scythian; something of a hindrance for an Ambassador, you'd suppose—but then, Scythians, eh?"

This last was delivered with a droll sarcasm which said all that was required about the Grecian youth's opinion on the matter. He merely raising a perfectly coiffured eyebrow a smidgin, awaiting Gabrielle's response.

"Lem'me get this straight." Gabrielle shook her head, to blow away the last misty shreds of the afternoon nap she had not been allowed to enjoy, then regarded her visitor with a mean green glare. "Some Scythian blows up t'the Senate steps; he can't make himself understood; so, out'ta the blue, y'fix me with the job of interpreting his mutterings? Why? What did I ever do t'the City-State o'Athens t'deserve this? I was just havin' a quiet afternoon nap. Can't a gal have a dam' nap now? Who's Archidamus?"

"The Senator in charge of Foreign Affairs and Border Control." Cimon had the broad limits of his master's Office at his finger-tips. "That is to say, deciding who can enter or leave Greece and Athens, at any particular time."

"Ahh. Ohh."

The two women glanced at each other; it being obvious they themselves fitted this category pretty conclusively. Time, it would seem, to prevaricate with a vengeance; it clearly not being wise to upset those in authority who controlled whether you could stay in the City, or be kicked out unceremoniously at a moment's notice. Gabrielle adopted a sickly grin, much like someone suffering from the dreaded lurgy, which she fondly supposed reflected an open compliant nature and willingness to please at every opportunity. Cimon paled noticeably, and hurriedly stepped back two paces, just to be safe.

"OK, OK, I'll come; but I'll need'ta bring my ever-faithful companion along, too." Gabrielle smirked off-handedly, glancing at the tall dark, ominously quiet Keeper of Her Heart's Desire standing by her side. "She's always so useful, y'see."

"Lady, y'r walkin' on oh-so-thin ice. Beware."

"Ice-s'mice; it's the middle o'Summer." Gabrielle, as always, blithely ignored the presence of the Ides just as others had done before her. "C'mon, lover; get your act t'gether. Will this top do? Or should I put on that smaller one I bought two days ago?"

"Gal, y'ain't ever gon'na wear that scrap o'linen in public; not if I have anythin' t'say in the matter." Xena was affronted, having actually seen her partner in the said top and still, days later, hardly believing her eyes. "Stick with what y'r wearin'; not that it covers as much o'the, er, essentials as could be wished."

"Ho-hum."

—O—

The reception room was situated not in the Senate House but in one of the ancillary villas across the small agora on which the main building sat. It was here high-ranking officials and Ambassadors were given solemn greetings and banquets in their honour. Today the high-ceilinged hall at the heart of the edifice was singularly bare of decoration, featuring only a series of low dining couches in a half-circle near the far end of the marbled floor; though the low tables provided were heaped with all sorts of singular provisions and foodstuffs; it, seemingly, not being known what exotic delicacies a Scythian particularly enjoyed. As Gabrielle and Xena entered the long hall and began the lengthy walk to the far end they took note of the group of Greek officials standing together round a tall bearded man in a purple-lined toga, obviously Archidamus in person. By his side, slightly less tall but just as fabulously bearded, stood the object of the whole exercise, the Pasha of the Scythian Agathyrsi himself.

"Is there somethin' wrong with the poor chap's legs?" Xena made this remark as they advanced down the cold length of the hall. "They seem out'ta proportion t'his body."

"Shush." Gabrielle was wiser. "It's his quilted leggings. The Scythians think it's the height o'fashion t'bulk out their, er, nether garments t'make 'em seem thicker. Just a fashion statement, is all."

"Hurph, dam' silly fashion."

The foreign Ambassador also wore a long richly embroidered linen tunic with short sleeves, leaving his forearms bare. On his feet were calf-length boots of the most supple red leather imaginable; Gabrielle feeling a twinge of jealousy at the sight.

"Ah, you were successful, Cimon." Archidamus turned to the approaching trio; apparently smiling, though it was almost impossible to tell, behind his thick long beard. "And not a tad too soon, either. I was coming to the end of my slight knowledge of sign-language. So, er, Gabrielle?"

This last question he left hanging on the scented air, looking from Xena to Gabrielle and back, obviously never having met either before. Cimon came to the rescue of his master with a sweep of his arm.

"Xena of Amphipolis, sire; and Gabrielle of Potidaea."

"Ah, just so." The Senator nodded wisely, pinning the blonde Amazon with a sharp blue eye. "Let us hope you can bring light into the darkness obscuring the present moment, Gabrielle. I take it you are proficient in our esteemed visitor's language?"

Caught on the spot the blonde did what she did best, employing her usual stunning bravado.

"Oh yes, proficient as a native, sire." Gabrielle, however, wondered internally just how detailed the ensuing discussions were going to be, for her grasp of the Scythian dialect was really rather less than perfect. "I'm sure we'll all get along like a house on fi—er, I mean, like long-lost—ahum, I mean like brothers an' sisters. S'easy; shall I say hallo? Or have you gone by that point already?"

There was a general movement as everyone circled round the line of couches; the Ambassador being guided to the richest and most gaudy by Cimon, in the guise of House-Steward. Gabrielle took the one to his immediate left while Archidamus lay at length on that one to the Scythian's right. Xena took the next along on Gabrielle's left side.

Another pause ensued as servants piled the low tables set before each reclining guest with various delicacies and goblets of dark wine; then Archidamus brought the meeting to order.

"Well, let us begin—"

—O—

"The Senator is too kind." The Scythian Pasha showed his less than beautiful teeth in a wide grin. "Most blessed among hours is this, the hour of my coming into his august presence."

Thinking this remark rather needlessly flamboyant; and her grasp of Scythian not extending far enough to cover the necessary vocabulary, Gabrielle went off on her own track.

"The Pasha pays your most revered Senator-ship his compliments."

Archidamus, an old hand at political smarm, took this compliment with an easy grace as he reclined comfortably on his left arm, smiling back at the Ambassador.

"Give him my best compliments in return, and say I'm delighted to have the honour of meeting him."

What Gabrielle knew of the home-life of the Scythian elite outranked her in-depth knowledge of their language by a long way; but now was obviously not the time to admit to any lack in this area. And, anyway, she did have enough of a grasp of the surface salutations to spread butter thickly when required. Having listened to Archidamus's remarks, and thinking they perhaps showed a dearth of that flowing richness of language which so delighted the ego of any Scythian aristocrat she'd ever met, the Amazon decided to launch out on the deep waters of hyperbole on her own account.

"His Senator-ship, this Athenian, Lord of Athens, Scorner of Sparta, Suppressor of Mysia, has quitted his governmental post, and left his enemies to breathe for a moment, and has crossed the agora from the Senate-House, with a small but eternally faithful retinue of followers, in order that he might look upon the bright countenance of the Pasha among Pashas—the Pasha of the everlasting Pashalik of Scythian Agathyrsi."

Archidamus here wriggled somewhat uncomfortably on his couch, twisting round to catch his female interpreter with a beady eye, he not being wholly a fool and recognising that what she had told the smiling Ambassador clearly out-classed his own initial remark.

"What on earth have you been saying about Athens? The Pasha will be taking me for a mere hoi-polloi." Archidamus waved a hand in familiar friendship at the listening Scythian meanwhile, hoping to deflect any suspicions of his opening salutations. "Perhaps I should have warned you to tell him I am from a branch of the family of Agesilaus, and that I am to be a magistrate for the polis of Tyrens, only I've not yet qualified, and that I should have been an Aedile if it had not been for the extraordinary conduct of Senator Charmides, and that I should have won easy if my committee had not been bought. I wish to the Heavens that if you do say anything about me, you'd tell the simple truth."

Finding no reply sufficient to echo her affront at this criticism Gabrielle remained politely silent, though her temper was beginning to bubble. Xena leaned over to grasp the left wrist of her errant companion, but wasn't in a position to have any positive effect on the conversation as yet—she herself having no idea of what exactly her blonde lover was spouting to the Scythian official. At which point the Pasha became inquisitive of what was going forward.

"What says the friendly Lord of Athens? Is there aught that I can grant him within the Pashalik of Agathyrsi?"

"This friendly Athenian—this branch of Agesilaus—this head-purveyor of Tyrens." Gabrielle, growing somewhat sulky at the Senator's apparent lack of confidence in her language skills, became literal. "This possible Aedile, is recounting his achievements, and the number of his titles, my Lord Pasha."

"The end of his honours is more distant than the ends of the earth," The Pasha accepted this encomium with easy grace. "and the catalogue of his glorious deeds is brighter than the firmament of Olympus!"

Thinking this a little too free and easy Gabrielle tempered the Scythian's enthusiasm as she turned to the waiting Senator.

"The Pasha congratulates your Excellency, Lord Archidamus."

Xena raised an eyebrow, wondering what was coming next, but remained silent.

"About Tyrens, and my possible Aedileship? By Artemis he does." Archidamus here sailed off innocently on his own completely mis-judged course. "But I want to get his views in relation to the present state of the Scythian Empire. Tell him the Senate-House has met, and that there has been a speech pledging Athens to preserve the integrity of the Chief-Pasha of Scythia's dominions."

Neither Xena nor Gabrielle had ever heard any such rumour, both pretty well considering it a mere exaggeration, by Archidamus, on what the Athenian Senate actually had under consideration—but both kept quiet, not being politicians.

"This branch of Agesilaus, this possible magistrate of Tyrens," Once more Gabrielle launched herself into the murky waters of unrestrained acclamatory embellishment, for no good reason other than she was beginning to lose her way in all this half-understood verbiage. "informs your Highness that in Athens the talking houses have met, and that the integrity of the Chief-Pasha's dominions has been assured for ever and ever by a speech from the velvet chair of the Senate-Leader."

"Wonderful-wonderful." The Pasha appeared overwhelmed by this effulgency. "Wonderful velvet chair; wonderful Athenian Senate; wonderful Athenian people."

"What does the Pasha mean?" Archidamus frowned in concern at his guest's excited manner. "He does not mean to say, does he, that the Senate will ever abandon their pledges to the Chief-Pasha?"

"No, Lord Archidamus." Gabrielle was on top of the situation. "He is simply being a little effusive at the Senate's kindly decision; his country thanking you from the bottom of their collective hearts; those Scythians that have such an organ, anyway."

"That's an exaggeration." Archidamus was too leary to take this at face value, but smiled all the same. "But say that the Athenians, whenever we have any disturbances to put down, even at two or three hundred parasangs from Greece, can send hoplites and triremes by the thousand to the scene of action in a few days."

Faced here with the Senator's outright embellishment of the realities of life, and fully recovering her temper and freedom of speech, Gabrielle decided he wasn't going to win the race of over-elaborate accolades if she had anything to do with it. She took a deep breath and turned to the waiting Pasha with a broad grin.

"His Excellency, this Lord of Athens, observes to your Highness, that whenever the Gauls, or the Celts, or the far-flung Anthropophagi, rebel against the Athenians, whole armies of soldiers, and brigades of hoplites, march to a mighty port called Piraeus, and in the biting of three figs they arise up again in the forests of Gaul, or the windy wet bogs of Londinium, or the illimitable sands of Lydia, and utterly exterminate the enemies of Greece from the face of the earth."

"I know it. I know all." The Pasha was not put out of countenance at all by this astonishing level of Athenian swagger. "The particulars have been faithfully related to me, and my mind comprehends the unyielding heights of Grecian military might. The armies of the Athenians are as the vapours of boiling cauldrons, and their horses are flaming coals."

"Iirrmph." Archidamus took a moment to regain his breath, after listening closely to Gabrielle's translation of this acknowledgement of the glory that is Greece. "Well, well, hmmph. Tell the Pasha I also wish to have the opinion of an unprejudiced Scythian gentleman as to the prospects of our Grecian commerce and manufactures; just ask the Pasha to give me his views on the subject."

Gabrielle, to the best of her rapidly weakening grasp of the necessary adjectives, reported this question to the attentive ears of the Scythian politician; then sat back with some trepidation as he boldly launched out on another sea of uninhibited magniloquence.

"The ships of the Grecians swarm like flies; their dyed linens cover the whole earth; and by the side of their swords the blades of eastern Japa are as blades of grass." Here he paused to take his second wind, then proceeded unchecked. "All Ind is but an item in the ledger-books of the Athenian merchants, whose lumber-rooms are filled with ancient thrones, encrusted with masses of fabled jewels."

This was too much for the Amazon Queen; who mentally shrugged, taking no further responsibility for the likely outcome of the meeting.

"The Pasha compliments the artefacts and swords and manufacturies of Athens, and also the Athenian Navy, Lord Archidamus."

"The Pasha's right about the swords." This last remark of the Ambassador had struck a chord with the Senator. "I tried my own sword against the scimitar of an Egyptian officer at Piraeus, and it cut the Egyptian's weapon like the parchment of a scroll. Well, Gabrielle, tell the Pasha I am exceedingly gratified to find that he entertains such a high opinion of our Athenian energy; but can you also explain that we have our virtues in the country—that we are a truth-telling people, and, like the Scythians,—I hope,—are faithful in the performance of our promises. Oh, and bye-the-bye, whilst you are about it, you may as well just say at the end that the Grecian members of the hoi-polloi though lowly are still, thank the Gods, the great Grecian hoi-polloi."

"It is true, it is true." The Pasha had listened to Gabrielle's, now somewhat flagging translation, with open mouth; then obviously set himself to outdo the Senator's capacity to lie if it killed him. "Through all civilised countries the Athenians are foremost and best; for the peoples of the northern tundras are sleeping babes, and the Germanic tribes are drilled swine, and the Romans are the servants of songs, and the Gauls are weavers of lies. But the Athenians and the Scythians are sisters and brothers together in righteousness."

"The Pasha compliments the Athenians." Gabrielle had by this time given up the ghost of responsibility or care, merely raising an eyebrow at the Senator, daring him to question her short resume. "That's all."

"Well, I've had enough of this." Surprisingly Archidamus seemed to share to a significant degree Gabrielle's feelings in the matter, rising from his couch with authoritative determination. "Tell the Pasha I am greatly obliged to him for his laudatory words, and still more so for his kindness in furnishing me with such interesting insights into his Scythian brothers-in-arms' views and qualities—and that I hope he appreciates my simple hospitality here tonight; and say that now I must be off."

The Pasha, after hearing Gabrielle's now exhausted and somewhat rambling trasnslation, also stood up from his couch to deliver his own parting homily.

"Proud are the sires, and blessed are the dams of the horses that shall carry his Excellency to the end of his prosperous journey through life." The Scythian Ambassador was now on familiar territory; that of waxing lyrical, not to say Lydian, on the virtues of his host, and his host's country. "May the saddle beneath him glide up to the very gates of Olympus, like a boat swimming on the third river of the Elysian Fields. May he sleep the sleep of a child, when his friends are around him; and the while that his enemies are abroad, may his eyes flame red through the darkness—more red than the eyes of ten tigers. Farewell."

"The Pasha wishes your Excellency a pleasant journey, Lord Archidamus." Gabrielle was also of the opinion it was high time for the celebrations to cease, frowning at the Pasha; glowering at the Senator; and giving her loved, till now worryingly silent, better half a glance of weary achievement. "Time to shut up the shop, eh?"

And so the opening day of the visiting Scythian Ambassador ended.

—O—

"Oh, Artemis; never again. Never again." The Amazon Queen lay on their bed back at their room in the quiet Inn. "I'm exhausted beyond measure. Who'd have thought just talking could be so dam' wearying? I think I'll sleep for seven days. Throw a warm blanket over me, will you, darlin'."

"Took it out'ta ya, did it, lover?" The Warrior Princess tried hard to keep a certain smirk from appearing in her voice.

"I'll say." Gabrielle raised herself on her elbows to look suspiciously at the tall form of her companion in the dim light of the candles. "You seem pretty peachy, though; enjoy the whole sorry farrago, did you?"

"No, no." Xena knew better than to fall into that kind of trap. "Y'must feel pooped altogether, Gab. Know I would be. But then, I don't know Scythian."

"Lucky for you, that's all I got'ta say."

The blonde Amazon lay back, throwing her arms wide, having already taken off her top, skirt, and boots; being, not to over-emphasise the matter, completely naked as she sprawled on top of the linen sheet covering the bed. A picture of beauty in which Xena had been taking a personal interest for some time past.

"Where's that blanket, then?" Gabrielle simply moved her head this time to gaze at the shadowy figure of the lady who loved her. "If you ain't gon'na bring it, maybe you'll bring yourself, instead? Wan'na lie down beside me, an' do an act o'kindness in warming a cold tired weary Amazon Queen? Only askin'."

For answer Xena performed a swift silent smoothly efficient striptease which, though vastly entertaining to the watching Amazon, was far more strip and very little tease—Xena having a so-desired destination in view, and not caring just how fast she arrived there.

"Oooh, you're colder than I am."

"Let's see if we can't change that, little one." The Warrior Princess lay close to her partner, putting a strong but gentle arm over her ivory-pale chest. "Would a quiet gentle massage be useful, d'ya think? Like this, for instance?"

"Aaah, ye-ess."

"Thought so."

The End.

—O—