Continued from "Gilead’s Beginning"…

As he stood looking at the setting sun and caught his breath, Gilead suddenly felt the cold, wet sensation of water all around him. It took him several minutes to realize that he actually was underwater, and several more to realize that he was facing downward and sinking, and struggled to turn himself around and swim up. He surfaced and swam to shore. The sky was nearly black now, with the first stars coming out. He pulled himself out of the water, and coughed out the water he had swallowed. He lifted his right hand in the near dark to wipe his mouth when the scabbard of his sword struck him in the mouth; pain shot through his entire face. The pain cleared his head enough to make him realize that he had been gripping his sword firmly, and had not even noticed it.

About an hour later, after darkness had fallen, Gilead was sitting in the woods not far from the lake he had found himself in. He had built a fire in a clearing, and was drying his black leather clothes (where did he get these?). When he felt his pants dry, he put them on, and started to dry his vest. He was about to sit down when his heart leapt; this was the exact same place where he saw his mother and Gabby camp. For a moment he thought about searching for them, but he figured they’d be hundreds of miles away by now, as it was yesterday when he had seen them.

Solan plunked himself down on the ground and thought about Mt. Olympus. He remembered Athena’s last words; they echoed in his ear, as fresh as if she was saying them now: "I hope I have done enough with you, Gilead. I send you out to the world today; you will never see this place again. Mind what I have taught you. Wisdom comes in many shapes and sizes. And remember, violence is the last resort in any situation."

He resumed his drying when he did not hear but sense someone coming. It was as if he could feel the earth vibrate with each footstep. He readied his sword, and looked toward the direction in which the uninvited guest was coming from. Conveniently for the intruder, there stood a thick patch of bushes completely blocking Gilead’s view, and now Gilead sensed that whoever was behind the bush had stopped advancing. Gilead shouted out, and as he was doing so he realized that his voice had changed, sounding a bit older.

"Come on out, whoever you are!"

Female voice, sounding rather playful:

"Ohhhhhh, you wouldn’t hurt a helpless little blonde now, would you?"

With that, a young beautiful woman stepped into the clearing. She had curly blonde hair, and was wearing a pink see-through nightgown. She smiled at Gilead.

Gilead lowered his sword:

"Aphrodite, the goddess of love."

Aphrodite:

"And you must be the one, whom the gods call Solan. Forgive me for being behind on the news, but I just got back to Mt. Olympus; I have my job to do, you know. I had to keep a relationship from breaking up. They told me you had left already."
Gilead:
"I’m called "Gilead" now."
Aphrodite:
"Whatever. Like I said, I’m behind on the news. I don’t check back with Mt. Olympus much, you know. I really prefer to stay in my temple."

Aphrodite helped herself and sat down next to the fire. She took Gilead’s vest, hung over the fire from a tree branch overhead, and smelled it; Gilead eyed her suspiciously.

Gilead:
"Why are you here?"
Gilead still held his sword in his right hand.

Aphrodite, holding Gilead’s vest up with two fingers:

"Don’t tell me this is what you plan to wear for the rest of your life; it smells like pig!"

Gilead:
"Make your point, goddess; and go away."

Aphrodite:

"My, my; aren’t we testy? You got that attitude of yours straight from your mother."

Gilead stared at her. As he did, Aphrodite pulled up her nightgown slightly, showing her slim, beautiful leg. Gilead was unfazed; or at least he pretended to look that way.

Aphrodite got up slowly and gracefully, and edged toward Gilead, walking seductively. Gilead still had his sword drawn, strangely enough knowing exactly what was coming next.

"What is this, goddess?"

Aphrodite ignored Gilead’s question and walked up to him.

"Do you know what you need, Solan?"

Gilead went along with whatever game Aphrodite was playing.

"All right; what do I need?"

"You need to get in touch with your inner self; yours is a hardened soul. You have no love in your heart." As she said this, Aphrodite put her arms around Gilead’s neck and pulled herself closer to him.

"You need to relearn to love."

"…"
She whispered in his ear.

"I can do that for you, Gilead."

Aphrodite kissed him, right smack on the lips. Her lips stayed there for a good twenty seconds, during which Gilead merely stood there, as if frozen (maybe he was!). After she "detached" herself from him, she let her fingers slide down Gilead’s naked torso; Gilead grabbed her hand and stopped it from going down too far.

Aphrodite grinned, and gently slipped out from his grip. She took several paces backward. After stopping, she smiled at Gilead, raised a finger, and cast a spell at him, which knocked him out cold on the spot. Gilead’s body went rigid, and toppled over to the ground like a felled tree.

"Nighty-night, Solan."

The goddess of love looked down at the unconscious man for a while, and said with a grin: "For a mortal, you sure taste good." Then she vanished. Gilead’s vest fell out of the sky, and landed on his face.

Gilead woke up when the sun was nearly overhead. As soon as his eyes were opened, he noticed his vest covering his face. He frantically struggled up, and after a minute, realized where he was, and when it was.

He got up, slapped some sense into himself, and looked out to the lake. There were two people fishing, a man and a woman; they seemed ignorant of Gilead’s presence around the lake. Putting on his vest and strapping his sword to his belt, he started to walk. Another thing: people do not seem to notice my presence; whether in a big, open space or a tight, closed room. As he cleared the forest, and came out to the open grasslands, he remembered that since he had left Mt. Olympus, he had not eaten or drank anything, but he was neither hungry nor thirsty.

Gilead was rather glad however, since he had no money to buy anything even if he was hungry. He spotted a town up ahead, about seven miles away. He started to walk, but stopped himself in utter disbelief. His mind had just told him, seven miles. No one could spot a town that far away with his naked eyes. Am I going crazy? Seven miles? Or did Aphrodite do something to me? Or the other gods…? Come to think of it, my body has been acting strange since I’ve been on Mt. Olympus.

If Gilead had only looked back from time to time, he would have seen Ares, the god of war, following him silently. Alas, Gilead was too absorbed with getting used to his new body.

He must have walked all day. When dusk once again found the world, and Gilead had reached the sleepy little village, he was no longer surprised at what his new body was capable of. When he realized that his feet did not ache a bit after a day’s walk, he marveled; marveled at this body, that his soul occupied now, a body that was not his own.

Being careful not to look suspicious, he walked with his head up high. His mind returned to why he was truly here: to find Xena and Gabrielle. "Gabrielle"? Now, what kind of a name was that? That name sounds too manly, Gilead decided. Sounds too much like "Gabriel."

As he walked the dirt streets of this town, with brown buildings, some made with thatch, some with logs, he kept on biting on the word "Gabrielle." Take the name "Xena," now. Nice and short. Easy to pronounce. But "Gabrielle"? How about…"Gabby"?

He turned his attention to the town itself. He stood right in the middle of a clearing, which was apparently the center of this little village. Shops and buildings surrounded the little open dirt patch. If New York had existed in ancient Greece, this little patch of open land would be this town’s version of Times Square. A weapon shop, made with stone walls, stood to the north. Through the shop’s window Gilead could see a young boy inside, apparently no higher in rank than an apprentice, bent over and hammering away at something that Gilead couldn’t see. Over to his right a stove had been set outside a building, and a middle-aged woman was smoking some meat on the stove. Behind her stood a stone building, which Gilead assumed to be the general store, where one could buy food, farming tools, etc.

"Hello young fellow. Are you lost?"

Gilead turned around to see an old man, walking on a cane, coming toward him. He was neatly dressed, wearing expensive clothing. He wore a burgundy trouser and shirt, a white sash, brown sandals, and a white turban. He fashioned a gray mustache that accompanied his aged face rather nicely. A black eye patch over his left eye completed his look.

Gilead:

"No."

Gramps:

"Now, don’t you give me that line. I’ve lived here for sixty-seven years, and I’ll be darned if there is anyone in this town that I don’t know! You’re a traveler, and an odd one at that; how you planning to go anywhere without a horse or knapsack? Say, are you up to something, boy?"

Gilead:

"Heavens no! I’m just passing through here, alright?!"

Darkness had settled in quickly. All around the buildings torches had been lit and placed in their cradles, dimly illuminating the faces of the people who passed by them. The sky was a dark blue, almost black, with the first stars showing their faces.

Gramps:

"Ha! We got an attitude here, my boy! Now, now. Don’t be such a loner. Why don’t ya come to my house? I won’t charge you for room and board."

Gilead though for a minute. It was getting dark; he would have no luck finding Xena and Gabby at night. Besides, his body could use the rest; or so he thought.

Gilead:

"If it’s perfectly fine with you, Gramps. But I’ll tell you right now, I’ve nothing on me."

Gramps:

"Eh, what about that sword you’ve got? How much is it worth?" Gramps asked, pointing to Gilead’s sword, which Gilead wore fastened to his belt.

Gilead:

"Oho, I don’t think so. This sword is a gift from the gods—" Gilead cut himself off.

Gramps:

"What?"

Gilead:

"Never mind. This sword is a gift. I could never sell it for anything."

Gramps shrugged.

"Fine; now, let’s get indoors. ‘Tis getting really dark, really fast."

The straw cot Gramps called a "bed" hardly resembled something one could sleep on. When Gilead lay down on Gramps’ "bed," he immediately noticed brown, flying dust, threatening to pounce on his nostrils, and thorns pricking his face. I can do without this, he thought, as he got up, shoved the pile of straw into a corner, and lay down on the bare dirt floor of the barn. It was unfair that Gilead had to sleep in this barn, especially after considering that the old man had gone into his lavish, brightly colored stone building, complete with guards. This guy must be the town’s mayor, thought Gilead. Every town, no matter how poor it was, usually made every effort to make sure that the mayor’s home stood apart from the rest. A mayor was to a town as a king was to a nation. The mayor presided over significant events such as someone’s wedding, or a trial; or in times of crises (crises is the plural form of crisis, and is pronounced "cry-sees"), such as a war, all decisions went through the mayor.

He lay down on the ground and started to count sheep leaping over the fence. When he got to three thousand, he still hadn’t fallen asleep; he was as wide awake as he could ever be. This must be the new body again. Just as well; I think I’ll just take a walk then.

He stepped outside and had taken ten steps when he heard a scream. Gilead turned toward the direction in which the sound came from. There stood the rich old man’s house, and Gilead saw a shadow, that of a man, leaping out from the door. The man had robbed the mayor’s house; Gilead could see the thief perfectly well. He had a huge sack slung over his shoulder. He darted down the steps and disappeared around a corner. Gilead was about to run after the thief when he stopped in his tracks. It was dark, with no light except that from the moon. It was almost pitch black, yet he could see clearly. It was like seeing through the eyes of a cat. Did I just dream that, or is it real? Gilead looked around. Even with the limited amount of light, he could see perfectly. He tried to remember what the thief looked like: it was strange. The thief had on black leather, just like him. Coincidence?

He was still shaking his head in disbelief, and blaming his body when the front door of the mayor’s house opened, and a handful of people came rushing out. They looked at Gilead, and one shouted, "There he is! Grab him!" Six men rushed up to the bewildered Gilead and grabbed hold of him. One man, in a guard’s uniform, rambled, "You are under arrest for stealing from the mayor. Anything you say can be used against you during the trial; so keep quiet. You’ll spend the night in jail, until—"

Gilead:

"What in the world is this? I was sleeping in the mayor’s barn all this time!"

Man in uniform:
"Cut the jokes! We have ten witnesses. I, the captain of the guards, am one of them. We SAW you inside the mayor’s house!"

Gilead:
"WAIT A MOMENT! You must be making a mistake. I saw someone rush out the door with a sack slung over his back! He rushed northward! He was dressed just like me!"
Captain:
"What are you saying…that you are being framed? Someone is masquerading as you and robbing villages?"
Gilead:
"Apparently, yes!"

The captain, to two of his guards:

"Ride out to see if anyone dressed like this guy is anywhere near the village. And shut all the gates! If he is still in the village, we’ll catch him. GO!"

The captain of the guards held up a torch to Gilead’s face. "Black hair, black eyes. Scar down right cheek. Black leather vest and pants." The captain stared at Gilead. "Are you playing me for a fool, young man? You look just like the man who robbed the mayor. If you ask me, you are the robber. Don’t expect me to believe you."

Gilead:
"I don’t know what else to tell you, captain. I AM TELLING THE TRUTH!"

Without listening, the guards shoved Gilead into the mayor’s house, but Gilead slapped their hands away. "Hey, I’ll go, I’ll go! I’ll tell the mayor the exact truth; you’ll all owe me an apology when this is over."

The captain laughed. "Get in there!" He pushed Gilead up the steps, leading up to the mayor’s front door.

Gilead told the mayor exactly what happened since the moment he went inside his barn. After a lengthy explanation that spelled out every little detail, the mayor got up. He paced the room, and stopped and looked at Gilead.

"This is hard to believe…you are saying that someone knew you were going to stumble onto this village, and decided to frame you?"
Gilead:

"Apparently, sir."

Captain of the guards:

"Don’t tell me you believe this young man, sir! He matches the suspect’s description perfectly!"

Gilead wanted to smack the captain, but knew that would get him into real time trouble. Instead, he merely watched as the two guards came back and reported to the captain.

Guard 1:

"Sir, no one saw anything or anyone unusual, let alone see anyone exit any of our gates. All the gatekeepers were on duty, as always, but they say they did not see anyone dressed in black leather come in or go out."

Captain, looking back at Gilead:

"He must have hidden the loot somewhere, and then invented this crazy story on the spot. Go check for the stolen goods; once you find it, bring it back here."
Guard 2:
"We already did, sir. For three hours. That’s why it took us so long to come back here."
Captain:
"AND???? WHAT did you FIND???????"

Guard 2:
"Nothing, sir. Absolutely nothing."

Captain:

"That is IMPOSSIBLE!"

Mayor:
"That’s enough shouting, captain!"

When the explosive, pent-up energy in the mayor’s living room had subsided, the mayor spoke.

"After hearing that the stolen goods were NOT found, I’m starting to think that this young man may not be the one. We’ll investigate further in the morning. (Then to Gilead) Young man, I wish I could believe you, but I cannot. You know I can’t. As for now, would you mind spending the night in our prison…? That is the only way to make sure that no more harm is done, so…"

So Gilead spent the night locked up, for a crime he did not commit. Then in the morning, the guards started a sweep of the immediate area around the town. As a measure to keep Gilead under his constant watch, the captain allowed Gilead to help out in the hunt.

After searching for about three hours, Gilead made plans to escape, and to search for this imposter on his own. He watched the captain, and when his back was turned to him, he ran for one of the town gates. Naturally, the captain gave chase.

Once at the gate, however, Gilead was shocked. He saw the man the guards were talking about; he was tall, about 6’ 2", wearing black leather, and with a scar down his right cheek. The imposter looked just like him. As Gilead stood in utter disbelief, the captain, who had been chasing him, caught up to him. He held a net in his hand; apparently ready to go fishing—fishing for Gilead. The captain was about to smack Gilead a good one to his face when he too saw the imposter. Both Gilead and the captain stood next to each other, at a loss for words. The imposter stood just outside the town border, grinning.

Captain:

"Uhh, young man, you were right. You were right about my owing you an apology…"

Gilead:
"Never mind that…but how could someone look so much like me? I mean, look at his face! You’d think we were twins separated at birth!"

Captain:
"But you are not, right?"

Gilead:
"Right."

Then the imposter turned and fled. Gilead and the chief then snapped out of their trance and ran after him, but he was nowhere to be found. They spent two hours looking; nothing turned up.

They were sitting back in the mayor’s house, having lunch. Both the mayor and the captain were so tired they could not hide their yawns. But Gilead was once again surprised at how not-so-tired he felt. But then, hey, why should I be surprised? Who knows what more miracles this body is capable of?

"Well, he made it off with six hundred Dinars’ worth of goods, but I’d say it was worth it; at least we got to save someone from going to jail for a crime he did not commit," sighed the mayor.

Silence.

Mayor:
"At least it’s over."
Gilead:
"No, sir. It is not."
Captain:
"What do you mean by that?"
Gilead:
"Not for me, at least. I have to bring this guy in. Who knows what other villages he might visit and do onto others in my name?"

That afternoon, after slinging his knapsack across his shoulder, in it fifty Dinars courtesy of the townspeople, Gilead readied to journey on. It seemed that his quest to find his mother would have to wait, once again. Right now he had a much more urgent problem on his hands…to clear his name.