“Zara?” she asked as the Moroccan captain made her way from the bow of the ship, carrying Nadrah in her arms.
“It is all right, Gabrielle. She is a friend of mine!” The Moroccan woman smiled as she put Nadrah onto the deck. Then a
slight wince escaped her before the tall woman turned her attention to the approaching ship.
With an arch of a brow, Gabrielle moved next to her. She reached out and lightly touched the knot on her lover’s back. At
her touch, Zara groaned in pain as she looked down at her. “I’ll take care of that later,” the healer promised as she returned
her attention to the commotion in the sea. “Then, you can explain who this ‘She’ is,” the Greek traveler failed to mask the
tone of her voice. Taken aback by the sharpness of her lover’s words, the tall woman glanced down at the healer, then
smiled broadly as she shook her head.
“You need have no fears of my friend, trust me!” the captain spoke softly as she patted the frowning bard’s shoulder, then
waved to the ship.
“Arjun!” she shouted to the smaller ship that was pulling along side Zara’s larger ship.
Gabrielle and Nadrah leaned over the rail to look down at the deck below them. Standing on the deck was a crew of very
young, muscular, bare chest men who waved back. As some men tied off the ship against larger Moroccan ship, a figure on
the main deck moved to the rope ladder the captain had tossed down to the ship.
The captain’s friend wore a bright red sari which had gold embroidery running along its edges. Her hair was very similar to
Zara’s. The dark, long, wavy, locks fell past her shoulders. With a high pitched squeal and scream, the tanned, dark figure
grabbed onto the rope ladder and tried to climb up. Moving closer to her lover, the Amazon watched as her lover reached
down to offer a hand to her Indian friend.
“O-OOHHH! Blessed Krishna! What have I gotten myself into!” the figure squealed with exasperation as Zara easily lifted
the smaller body to the deck but grunted as she felt a twinge in her back. Once on the Moroccan ship, their petite guest
glanced down and straightened out the full-length sari, then reached up and pushed back thick locks of hair. It was then that
Gabrielle smiled when she saw the Indian woman standing in front of her was actually a man, dressed in women’s clothes with
colorful make up on his smooth face. The low cut top of his sari revealed a light patch of hair on his chest.
Gabrielle wasn’t sure whether to laugh, or cast Zara a suspicious gaze. Instead, she watched the newcomer with amusement.
The healer noticed that he was no taller than her and that his frame, although slight, was built solid like a man, yet his bearing
seemed to be more feminine than hers. The blonde noticed the small man’s muscular biceps under the silk sari wrap. The
sash of his sari crossed over his chest covering the low cut top that he wore. As the Moroccan moved forward to greet her
friend, the Amazon smiled in amusement as she watched the exchange.
“Namaste, Prince Arjun,” Zara pressed the palm of her hands together and began to bow to the guest. Before she could
complete this ritual form of greeting, the little man lightly slapped her shoulder.
“No need for such formalities between friends,” he smiled coyly, then added, “but, Namaste to you as well, my good friend!”
he smiled as he pressed his palms together, bowed slightly, then smiled up at the tall captain.
“So, Arjun, why are you here?” The captain asked as she reached out to hug the short man.
“OHH, CAREFUL! Careful… you big, muscular brute!” the smaller man playfully slapped the taller woman’s shoulder and
smiled up at her. “When my fishing boats reported your ship, I just had this special sari prepared for welcoming your arrival
this morning!” The slight man scolded as he lightly slapped Zara’s shoulder, then glanced down and fixed his sari again.
“Ohhhhhh, look at all the lovely men!” Arjun’s attention was suddenly caught by the sight of the mixed crew who gathered on
the deck to witness the strangers arrival. The Indian man’s white teeth showed through his large smile as he glanced lustfully
at the crew that stood quietly on the deck.
“Oh! Zara! SO MANY OF THEM!” he exclaimed as he pranced in front of each one, closely examining them as if he were
shopping for his dinner, “and each one more delicious than the other! OH, I shall never need to seek Nirvana again for it is
here, on your ship!” Most of Zara’s men who had met Arjun before, laughed and grinned at his antics. The Arabs who had
come from the Sultan’s ship didn’t seem to know what to make of the prancing figure and huddled uneasily together for
mutual protection.
The Moroccan woman smiled at her posturing friend and glanced at Gabrielle. She found it amusing to see her lover’s initial
reaction as the woman thought it was a female friend. Now, as the storyteller watched the colorful man strutting like a
peacock on the deck, her expression turned from defensive, to one of amusement. When Zara caught the healer’s eye, the
blonde shook her head with a smile, before turning to watch the eccentric Indian once more.
“So, Arjun, what are you doing here?” the dusky woman asked again as she watched Arjun moving across the deck, his eyes
never wavering from the men. “You know I would have come to visit with you. All I had to do was get my injured men
settled, then we would have been on your doorstep,” the captain offered.
“Injured MEN!” the petite man spun around in horror, his attention suddenly riveted on the captain, “How horrible!” he
shuddered as if from the cold. “Why do you have injured men?” the Indian man asked, then as an afterthought, he waved
away Zara’s reply, “Ewwww! Never mind! I don’t want to know any grisly details if it’s going to upset me! You know how
I loathe fainting from the vapors in public,” he said with a slight sniff as he faced the tall captain. “Just tell me how many beds
you’ll need at the hospice and I’ll make certain that the poor, sweet, dears are all tended to by my very finest healers!” He
sighed gustily and looked ready to weep.
Relieved by the offer, the Moroccan woman nodded her thanks, “That would be appreciated,” the captain said, as she
glanced at Gabrielle, “Perhaps you have a number count for Arjun?”
When the Moroccan turned her attention to the blonde, Arjun instantly turned on the small woman, his expression suddenly
predatory. Like a mother inspecting a bride-to-be, the petite man sauntered slowly towards Gabrielle with a deep-set frown.
He kept one hand firmly on his hip and the other slightly up as if ready to touch a thing of beauty, but refrained only to allow
the wrist to hang limply in the air. Then he tilted his head first from one side to the other, his eyes squinting as he sized up the
foreigner.
“And WHO is this?” The Indian man asked as he walked deliberately around Gabrielle’s entire form looking her up and
down. With a frown on his face, he stopped dead in his tracks in front of the blonde as his eyes stared critically from the top
of the Greek woman’s head down to her toes. With a sudden tsking sound, Arjun gazed deeply into Gabrielle’s green eyes,
then spoke in a firm voice. “Ooooo! I hate you, I positively hate you!” then a sly smile crossed his lips as he reached out and
took a hold of the blonde’s chin. “You are absolutely beautiful! Ahhh, no one will ever look at me if you are around! Zara,
do not tell me that this delectable dish is with you or I shall have to go and join a hermitage right now!” He lightly stomped a
sandal on the deck, “And my father will have no one to blame for his lack of grandchildren but you! Do you hear me?”
“Oh, my dear Princess, no other woman will ever outshine your beauty,” the Moroccan captain said softly with a regal bow
as she cast a sidelong wink at the stunned bard.
A slight smile crossed Arjun’s features, as he looked from the blonde, then to Zara. Assessing the relationship in an instant,
the shorter man grinned broadly as he leaned toward Gabrielle. “She is such a flatterer, be careful of this one, my small
beauty!” he warned the blonde in the whisper of a fellow conspirator before turning and smiling up at the captain.
“Ah, if you were only a man!” Arjun lamented with arms raised toward Zara.
“Ah, if you were only a woman!” Zara repeated, clutched her heart as if cupid’s arrow had pierced it.
With a friendship built upon many years, the two figures broke out into an easy laughter as they hugged each other. Once the
laughter subsided, the tall woman turned to Gabrielle.
“Arjun, this is Gabrielle, healer, warrior, bard and as I learned only recently, Queen of the Amazons and this,” the captain
took Gabrielle’s hand in hers, “is my dearest friend, Arjun… Prince Arjun Asoka.”
