Chapter 20
A week later they paused in their journey to rest at a hot spring in the foothills below the Garania mountains. It was sheltered by the remains of a small shrine to Hephaestus, god of the forge, one Methos had remembered from his days with the Horsemen. But the old priest who had cared for it two centuries earlier had died and the shrine must have become lost.
They set up camp for the night and took their turns, smiling as they rejoined their comrades by the fire. Going next to last, Methos sighed with pleasure as he sank into the heat of the spring and slid beneath the surface. He relaxed himself, breathing in the hot, metallic tasting water unconcerned with drowning, until every fiber of his being felt soothed and comfortable for the first time in weeks. He drowsed there, floating peacefully until he drifted off.
"PIERSON!!"
A hand gripped his hair, pulling him up and out of his warm cocoon, flailing and sputtering with indignation.
"What?!" he shouted at O'Neill, who knelt beside the pool.
"You drowned."
"I was napping!"
O'Neill stared at him in disbelief until Methos finally sighed in disgust and explained. "I don't know why Immortals can breath under water, we just can. Maybe it has something to do with how our Quickenings perceive our bodies. What's normal and what's not. Muscle strain is a normal function, but tearing them is not. We breath fluid in the womb, again a normal function, so perhaps it-"
"Okay! Okay!" O'Neill held up a hand. "I'm down with the water breathing. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a bath."
Methos rolled his eyes, reaching out for the small pot of soap he'd brought with him. "Well, don't mind me, there's plenty of room. And I'm not done yet."
O'Neill frowned, then shrugged and stripped off his towel, groaning with relief as he slid into the water. "God, I miss indoors plumbing," he muttered.
Methos smiled as he started to wash his hair. "I know how you feel. I remember Rome. Houses had proper sewers with heated floors and baths. Then the Visigoths showed up and Europe went to hell."
"Never met 'em, but I despise them on principle," O'Neill murmured laconically as he rested his head against the ledge of the pool.
Methos grinned and rinsed his hair, then reached for his straight razor to shave.
"So, what's on the other side of those mountains?" O'Neill suddenly asked.
"Megara."
The colonel sat up and frowned. "You said it was another two weeks to Megara."
"It is," Methos sighed, carefully pulling the blade across his lightly soaped cheek. "But we can't take the cart into the mountains. There's no pass anywhere near here."
"And how long if we just cut straight across?"
"Three days maybe, but-"
"Change of plan, Pierson. We dump the oxen at the nearest farm and burn the cart."
"We'll lose a lot of money on the resale," Methos pointed out.
"We're not here to make money," O'Neill grimaced. "If we need more we'll just send Carter and Teal'c out rock collecting."
Methos shrugged. It certainly wouldn't be a problem leaving the oxen behind. Or some of the supplies they would have needed for a longer journey. The donkey could take the rest and they could double up and walk the horses some of the time. He'd planned for them to ditch their disguise on the road to Megara anyway and enter the port as a family looking for passage.
"Sounds fine to me," he finally nodded, washing the rest of the soap from his face.
"Wonderful," O'Neill responded. "Now, be a good minion and go find Fred and Ethel a nice home. The rest of us can empty what we need from the cart. I think I'll give Carter the pleasure of lighting that fire. Oh, and you'd better hurry it up," he added, leaning back. "We head out at sunrise."
Methos frowned. "You're sure you just want to leave the oxen?" he asked. "You wouldn't rather I sacrifice them in your honor? You know, I make a wonderful ox tail stew."
O'Neill sat up looking horrified. "You'd kill Fred and Ethel? For a lousy bowl of stew? What kind of sick and twisted minion are you?! Get out of my shrine!"
Methos fell back laughing until O'Neill kicked him in the shin splashing him. Bemused, he hurriedly hoisted himself out of the water and grabbed his towel. If he left it to the children no doubt they'd bring all the animals back - and turn the SGC into a petting zoo!
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