The old woman slowly made her way through the stalls of the busy agora, searching for the one vendor that she knew would have what she needed. Walking was hard for her now. Her legs no longer moved the way they used to, muscles were stiff and bones brittle. Her ankles, once slim and strong were now swollen and ached with each step she took. Her body, once firm and muscular had gone soft from the ravages of time. The long dark hair which had shone like silk was now mostly gray and hung like clumps of string down past her shoulders. Although the day was warm she pulled the tattered shawl tightly around her shoulders feeling chilled, her aging body no longer able to retain its own heat.
The agora was swarming with people and the delicious aromas of many cooked foods and spices filled the air. The constant din of merchants hawking their wares and the voices of their customers as they bargained for various merchandise was almost deafening. But she didn't mind. This day was special. On this day she was going to visit an old friend, one that had come to mean very much to her.
Finally she found the stand that she had been searching for. She made her selection and paid the merchant, no haggling today. Gently holding her purchase she turned and once again plodded through the maze of stalls, painfully making her way to the edge of the village. Several times she had to stop to rest and catch her breath. Thinking back to younger days she smiled to herself. Never in her wildest imagination had she ever pictured herself like this. As a matter of fact, she never thought that she would even live to this advanced age. People in her line of business rarely did.
At last, she exited the gates of the village and began the long, torturous walk up the steep hill to the place where her friend was. With each step, distant memories flooded her still sharp mind. She remembered a time when she was so ruthless that she did not care whose lives would be forfeit in order for her to get what she wanted. It was a wild time. She commanded a great army and her men obeyed her every whim. Villages were burned , homes looted, men, women and children were killed in her name. She would take sadistic pleasure in all of these raids, never caring for those whose lives she had touched so horribly and so fatally. She remembered a girl, once innocent, who became so devastated by what the warrior and her army had done, so filled with hatred for her, that she, herself, had grown into a highly skilled, abominable warlord, who was totally without conscience or regard for human life. This child grown to woman, that she had wronged so tragically, was so bent on revenge, that she became a dangerous killer, obliterating anything and anyone who crossed her path.
The old woman suddenly was very tired, very hot and uncomfortable. She removed the shawl and then sat upon a rock. Taking off the water bag which had been strapped around her shoulder, she squirted some of the cool liquid onto her parched tongue. Then she took out a small cloth and soaked it with some of the water. Wiping the sweat from her burning face with the cool fabric, she remembered some more of her colorful past.
The image of a fair haired demigod came into her mind and she smiled at the pleasing recollection. The son of Zeus was a tall, muscular, handsome fellow with whom she had briefly fallen in love and who had changed her life forever. In the beginning they were enemies, but soon he had shown her the error of her ways and had convinced her that she could change. Putting all of her past transgressions behind she had started a new path, one dedicated to doing good in place of evil.
Early on in this new life of hers she passed through the village of Poteidaia where she met a young woman. This blonde haired youth possessed a gentle soul and a naivete which at first she had found quite annoying. This innocent followed her, leaving her home behind, hoping to join with the warrior in a life of adventure. Not caring for companionship, the dark haired woman had repeatedly asked the blonde to leave and go back to her own family, but the fresh faced youngster was persistent and finally won the battle. The older woman reluctantly resigned herself to the younger's presence and although she found her annoying, a friendship began to develop. The warrior learned to appreciate the delicate qualities of her new companion. The young woman started out as the cook who also spun great tales, but more importantly she became the warrior's confidant, her advisor and her conscience. This was that special kind of friendship, the kind which was so close that it grew into love. The bard's pure and simple way of looking at life tempered the passions still buried deep within her heart and touched the very depths of her soul. Their friendship went through many changes, some good and some bad. They shared many adventures many filled with fun, but they had also encountered heartache. The pair had even formed friendships with others along the way leaving their mark upon all whose paths they crossed as they traveled. It was to be with this friend that the old woman was now making this arduously difficult, albeit short, journey.
The old one rose heavily from the rock. She had dallied there long enough. Once again she climbed the steep ground in the direction of her destination. Not much further now. Her fingers absently touched the tattered pocket of the simple frock she always wore, feeling the small glass vessel that she had carried with her for such a long time. Still there. Breathing heavily from the effort of walking she began to cough and spit up bits of bloodied mucous, something which had been happening with great frequency.
Finally she reached the end of her journey. The beautiful lilac tree that she had planted with her own hands was in full bloom, it's sweet fragrance permeating the air. Once again she sat down, this time next to the pile of rocks which, while still grief stricken, she had arranged so precisely to protect this special spot. Very gently she placed the single long stemmed red rose upon the stones. Smiling wistfully, her hand ran lovingly over their sharply pointed edges.
"Hello my dear friend. I'm here. It's been a while, I know, but this trip is very hard for me now. I'm not young like I used to be. I've missed you terribly. My life has been so empty without you in it all these past years. I wish so much that I could go back in time and be with you once again. I always thought it so unfair that the fates took you first. It should have been me. That is selfish, I know, but when your life ended, I wanted very much to go with you. With your dying breath you convinced me to go on, and I did. I continued without you just as I did when you were by my side. I kept your memory in my heart, and I've carried you with me all these years, hearing your voice, seeing your smile and feeling your love. I thought of you whenever I felt that terrible weakness which might have caused me to slip back into my old ways. I would spend hours reading and rereading your wonderful scrolls, reliving our incredible life together with each story and poem. I hope you understand, but this is the last time I will be able to come here. I am old, my health is failing and my eyesight poor. My life has no meaning and has become intolerable. It is nearing its end. I can no longer make this short journey to visit you, yet I cannot bear being without you, so today, I travel one more time. Today, finally, we will be together."
Hands trembling the old woman reached into her pocket and withdrew the small glass vial. She removed the cork and studied the tube's contents. Then she gazed up into the bright blue sky drinking in the brilliant sunshine and the lush countryside around her. She listened to the song of the Thrush while inhaling the sweet fragrance of the lilac bush. Satisfied that she had filled her mind with pleasant images of the beauty in life she quickly swallowed the bitter green liquid and lay down next to the grave of her beloved friend. Closing her eyes, her last thoughts were of the bard and with her last breath she whispered,
"I love you, Gabrielle."
Her pain finally gone, her mind at peace, she slowly drifted into that last, deep sleep.
"Xena."
She opened her eyes trying to see the image standing in the glare of the sun's rays. The form moved over, blocking the brightness and with recognition, a smile slowly formed on the lips of the warrior.
"Gabrielle."
"It's time, Xena."The blonde extended her hand to the still reclining woman and reaching back she allowed herself to be helped up. Standing face to face now, the pair, still holding hands, exchanged the happy looks of two people who had been away from each other for a very long time. The warrior turned and looked down at the body of the old woman.
"She's at peace now, Xena."
"Yes, she is."
The older woman smiled and then, hand in hand, the dark haired warrior and her beloved companion, the blonde bard turned and began walking towards the blinding sunlight, together once more, never to be parted again.
The End