Maximus' Story

Chapter 91 – Dreams

"Psst, General. Wake up!"

Maximus' eyes flew open and he looked right into Cicero's shadowed face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Someone's in the emperor's tent. Come with me."

Maximus drew on a robe and padded, barefoot, after Cicero. Without a word, Cicero drew back the canvas doorflap of Marcus Aurelius' tent and pointed to dim candlelight in the far corner. The bobbing light cast weird, flitting shadows on the numerous marble busts that occupied the tent, making some of them appear to jump with life. The candle was in the hand of Septimius Severus and he moved slowly, fingering the emperor's belongings reverently. His hand drifted from surface to surface -- from marble to silk to wood.

"Is he trying to steal something?" whispered Cicero.

"I don't know," replied Maximus in an equally hushed voice. "I can't believe he would be so stupid. Let's wait and see what he does. I don't want to falsely accuse the man even though he is somewhere he shouldn't be."

Septimius stopped and stared up at the golden eagle situated above the emperor's ornate chair. He bowed to the empty chair then, very slowly, turned and sat down on the throne.

Cicero gasped. Maximus scowled but restrained his servant with a hand on his arm then put a finger to his lips. Then the general crept slowly forward to get a better view of the man's actions. Septimius sat for a few moments with his eyes closed then he slowly extended his hand as if greeting subjects. He nodded his head as if listening to someone then made more hand gestures as if making a point. He smiled and then feigned a laugh, then waved the imaginary subject away with his hand.

Maximus silently stepped into the open, no more than a half tent-length from the man, but hidden in the dark shadows beyond the meager light from the candle. He watched Septimius pretend to be the emperor for a few moments longer then sharply cleared his throat. Septimius jumped clear off the chair, twisting in the air to face the unknown person in the shadows. In his terror he dropped the candle onto the woven carpet beneath the throne and Maximus made a dive for it as it started to smolder. His reflexes lightening-fast, he grabbed the candle, rolled and gained his feet with it still alight. Cicero was tempted to applaud.

Septimius, though, was chalk-white, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Sorry to frighten you, Septimius, but my servant saw a light on the walls of the emperor's tent and I had to investigate. You understand." Maximus thrust the light under the praetor's nose making him look ghoulish. "The emperor doesn't like people sitting on his chair."

Septimius clasped a hand to his heart, still too shaken to speak.

"Tell you what. Why don't I let a guard accompany you back to your tent and you can try to get some rest. We can talk about this in the morning." With those words Cicero appeared with a lantern in his hand and a guard right behind him.

Septimius looked totally humiliated as he fled the tent in front of the armed man.

Maximus suddenly glanced at his feet then stepped back in disgust. "He urinated on the carpet!" Suddenly he burst out laughing and was soon joined by Cicero.

The two men clasped each other and doubled over in merriment before finally collapsing onto chairs to regain their composure. Maximus wiped his teary eyes with the back of his hand. "I think it's the last time he'll do something like that. Come on, Cicero, let's get back to bed."

"I'll air out the carpet in the morning," said Cicero. "We don't want the emperor to come back to a tent that smells like a latrine."

He followed Maximus towards the doorway then noticed the general's shoulders start to shake. "Maybe he just needed to relieve himself and picked the wrong

throne!" giggled Maximus and they both convulsed with laughter again which didn't die down until long after they had entered the general's tent.

Septimius did not appear for breakfast the next morning but searched out Maximus later in the day when the general was in his tent with Quintus going over legion affairs. His legate had already asked him about the wild laughter that he thought he had heard in the middle of the night and Maximus had explained the situation.

"I... I must apologize for my actions last night, General," the praetor said in a quiet but not contrite tone. I had a dream that led me to do what I did. Do you dream. General?"

"Sometimes," said Maximus evenly. He did not want to appear unfriendly but he was not prepared to make the man think that he was forgiven, either.

"I do. Often. I believe that dreams are omens that can predict the future."

Maximus remembered his conversation with Marcus Aurelius and regarded Septimius with curiosity. "Do you believe in astrology too?"

"Most certainly. So far, my life seems to be unfolding exactly as planned, although I am rather impatient to reach the next plateau."

"What do dreams have to do with your actions last night?"

"Everything, really. Not long after falling asleep I dreamed that the emperor called to me to come to him."

"And when you reached the dark tent you didn't realize that it was simply a dream, nothing more?"

"Maximus, you don't understand. You can't take dreams literally and they are far from simple. My dream meant that the emperor was thinking about me at that very moment and I needed to go somewhere close to him to enable his thoughts about me to be even clearer.

I was only in a half-wakeful state when you woke me so abruptly. I was not really in control of my actions."

Maximus knew bluffing when he heard it. He glanced at Quintus who was staring at the praetor with interest.

"I was so shaken," Septimius continued, "that it took me quite some time to go back to sleep -- which is why I slept so late this morning. But when I did, I had another dream." Septimius' expression changed and he now regarded Maximus

with a curious wariness. "It was about you."

"Really?" Maximus was not sure how long he was going to let this game go on.

"Do you want to hear it?"

Maximus shrugged and Quintus nodded eagerly, never taking his eyes off the man.

"I dreamed that your wolf fur cape came to life and devoured you. You struggled and managed to mortally wound the wolf with your sword but you also lost the fight and fell dead, bleeding, with its teeth buried in your side. You raised your arm, though, and your sword flew into the air as if it had wings and tumbled with the clouds until it landed in the upraised hand of your youngest son while your oldest boy screamed in agony."

Maximus regarded Septimius with an amused expression even though he found the praetor's words very unsettling. "I have only one son, Septimius," he said quietly.

The praetor just stared at him. Quintus gaped at his general too.

Maximus looked from one man to the other. "If you'll excuse us now, Quintus and I have more work to do."

Septimius nodded and exited the tent, but not before contemplating Maximus with a long, reflective look.

Quintus let out a pent-up breath. "That was eerie. What do you think it all means?"

Maximus stared at the empty doorway. "He's an ambitious man, Quintus, and I already know how dangerous an ambitious man can be." He looked at his legate who was gazing at him quizzically. "Let's get back to work."

Chapter 92 - The Outpost

Maximus started to go over the rows of figures again but Quintus was obviously not in a mood to concentrate. He kept glancing sideways at Maximus while pretending to look at the statistics.

Maximus finally gave up and sat back in his chair. "What's on your mind, Quintus?"

The legate was quick to respond to the invitation for conversation. "That dream, Maximus. It's very disturbing."

"It obviously is to some people," replied Maximus sarcastically.

Quintus grew defensive. "Well, if it doesn't bother you, it should."

"Why? What does Septimius know about me? He didn't even know that I had a son until yesterday, then he dreamt that I have two." Maximus sighed. "I caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to do and he's simply trying to unnerve me to get even. It won't work."

Quintus persisted. "You might have another son in the future. Whose to say that the events in his dream will happen soon--"

"Quintus," Maximus interrupted, "Septimius is on vacation and on a mission. He's a small man with a big goal and an even larger ego. There are probably hundreds like him in the empire. Even if he does catch up with Marcus Aurelius I can't see Caesar tolerating him for very long. Our emperor is a very good judge of character."

"But--," began Quintus but he stopped when Cicero entered the room.

"Excuse me, General. This just arrived from the emperor and it's urgent." Cicero handed the document to Maximus, nodded to Quintus and slipped back into the shadows.

Maximus examined the seal for authenticity then proceeded to read. A slow smile spread over his face, then he snorted. "Listen to this, Quintus. Caesar sent Commodus back to Rome. Looks like his own father couldn't stand having him around either." Quintus offered a polite smile. As Maximus continued to read, his expression changed from gleeful satisfaction to one of great concern. "Cicero!" Maximus called.

"Sir?"

"I'll be leaving in a few days for a week or two. Will you get things ready?"

"May I ask where you are going?"

"Into Germanian territory." Maximus looked at a surprised Quintus. "Once again, my friend, I leave the legion in your capable hands."

January, A.D. 178

Maximus rode astride Scarto accompanied by over a hundred armed cavalry, his furs and cape stowed in his bag. He preferred not to advertise his rank as they crossed the unstable demilitarized zone between Roman base camps along the Danube and Rhine Rivers and tribal settlements deep in barbarian territory.

Maximus rarely visited these Roman outposts as Marcus Aurelius had left their administration to his lesser generals, allowing Maximus to concentrate on military strategy for the entire northern frontier. The outposts were populated by auxiliary troops and rotating cohorts. Their purpose was to establish a Roman presence in the territory and to keep aggressive local tribes under control by constantly negotiating with them -- and, if that failed, by hassling them into submission through cattle raids, burned villages and hostage-taking. These tactics were rarely employed as Germanians and Romans learned to tolerate each other and even mingled, intermarried and traded with each other. There was usually little trouble this time of year as everyone was preoccupied with the simple act of surviving the cruel northern winters.

But, something had gone terribly wrong. A Roman general had disappeared and the Romans had retaliated by capturing the daughter of a tribal leader. Germanian noblewomen were held in high esteem by their people and the Chatti tribe was terribly upset, claiming that they knew nothing about the general. To make matters worse, the woman claimed to have been raped by some of the Roman soldiers, all of whom denied that such a thing happened. The situation was hot and Caesar felt that Maximus should deal with it himself in order to head off an escalation of hostility that could spread like a brush-fire throughout Germanian territory. Maximus hoped he wasn't too late already.

He sat straight in the saddle, his breath frosting the air, grateful for the lack of snow and clear sky. He was bundled in heavy tunics, woolen trousers and a cape that covered him from shoulder to knee. Leather strips were wrapped around his fingers to save them from frostbite and his feet were protected by layers of wool under his boots. He wore a simple helmet on his head for warmth. Shortly before they reached the outpost he'd change into his impressive general's uniform to help him establish authority right from the start.

After one night of camping under the stars, rolled up in multiple blankets and huddled as close as they dared to fires, the men spotted the stone tower in the distance late the second day. They stopped to rest while Maximus donned his brass cuirass, cape and furs, then they hoisted the golden eagle standard of Rome and approached the outpost, their hands near their swords and their bodies in position to quickly grab their bows, if necessary.

The outpost was very small and primitive compared to Roman fortresses where men enjoyed such luxuries as public baths, but it was not much worse than the base camps where soldiers spent most of their time. All of the necessities were here but none of the luxuries. It was a military outpost and nothing more, although far more comfortable than the original turf and timber fort that had originally stood on this spot.

Instead of encountering tribal unrest, though, all seemed quiet -- that is until a rock hurled from the dense bush beside the road slammed into Scarto's head just below the ear causing the horse to scream and rear almost vertical, nearly unseating his rider who desperately clutched the animal's mane. Scarto crashed back to the ground shaking his head wildly and spattering Maximus with blood. As both horse and rider stood trembling, two soldiers charged into the bush and soon returned with the culprit suspended between them. He was a boy of no more than twelve who kicked and cursed at the soldiers and their horses.

As Maximus dismounted and approached, the boy's thin body convulsed and he spat right in the general's face, the spittle striking Maximus' right cheek before dripping down into his beard. He slowly wiped it away with the back of his hand. Enraged, one of the soldiers holding the boy loosened his grip then viciously backhanded the youngster who tumbled head over heels into the frozen road.

"That's enough!" said Maximus as he grabbed the boy by the back of his garment and hauled him to his feet. "He's just a child." A curious crowd had gathered and many of the people angrily eyed the Roman general restraining the frightened child with the split lip. Effortlessly, Maximus lifted the young rebel with one arm and handed him to another soldier who placed him stomach-down across his saddle. "Put him in the outpost prison for a few hours to cool him down."

Maximus returned to Scarto to the jeers of the crowd and rubbed the stallion's velvet nose while examining the bloody gash. It was deep and required immediate attention. So far this was not going well. Not well at all.

"Tell me what happened." Maximus sat in the chilly main room of the outpost with the senior centurion and a scribe who was ordered to record every word that was said.

"I last saw General Pollienus twenty-three days ago -- in late December. I met with him in the morning and he left after the mid-day meal to tour the outpost. No one ever saw him again."

"What did you discuss that morning?"

"Nothing unusual. Just regular things like equipment needs and personnel problems."

"Are the same soldiers here now that were here then?"

"Yes. We made sure than no one left."

"You mentioned personnel problems. What did these entail?"

"Once again, nothing unusual. Just normal personality conflicts and arguments over property. Nothing serious at all."

"How were these problems resolved?"

The man shifted uncomfortably. The scribe's pen scratched at the papyrus. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Were all parties satisfied with the outcome?"

"Yes. I suppose there were some hard feelings but nothing--"

"Unusual," Maximus finished for him.

The centurion stiffened. "Yes."

"I'm sorry, Oranius. It's just that I don't even know yet whether this is an accident, a desertion or a murder that we are investigating."

"It's murder, General."

"And how do you know that?"

"What else would it be? These barbarians despise us. They saw an opportunity to destroy our leader and they took it."

"Are there any witnesses?"

"No."

"Then, your theory is merely conjecture."

"Conjecture based on experience... Sir."

"I'm afraid I need more than that before I can accuse people of murder. For a start, I need a body."

"We searched, Sir, but were unable to find him. He was probably cut up and burned."

Maximus rubbed his bearded chin. "Why did you kidnap the Chatti noblewoman?"

"We are holding her until the guilty party comes forward."

"She claims she was raped."

"Raped!" Oranius spat. "Nobody raped her... but it would serve her right if they did. She's a bitch!"

Maximus tensed. "Rape is one of the most reprehensible acts that a man can commit and there is never any excuse for it."

"It never happened."

"Was the woman examined by a surgeon?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"What would be the point?"

"She should have been examined for signs of force, for bruising--"

"She was probably roughed up when she was captured. That doesn't prove anything."

Maximus examined the resentful face opposite him. "All right, Oranius, this is what's going to happen. I am going to interview every soldier one-by-one and I don't want to find that they all give me the identical story using the identical words... if you get my meaning. I am also going to talk to the Chatti woman to get her side of the story. I want two translators with me when I do that... one Roman and one Chatti."

"That won't be necessary. The bi--, the woman speaks Latin."

"Well, that makes things a bit easier. Make the arrangements, please. I'll start talking to the soldiers first thing tomorrow. You're dismissed." Oranius glared at Maximus before he exited the room, slamming the door behind him. Maximus looked at the young soldier who was acting as scribe. "Well, I can see that he is going to be very co-operative. This investigation should be a snap."

The young man smiled in sympathy.

"You're dismissed too, soldier, but I'll need you again tomorrow."

"Thank you, General." Tarius gathered up his documents. "If I may say so, Sir... we've never seen an official of your stature out here... so the ones that are already here may think that their authority is being usurped."

"It is."

Tarius looked at Maximus' serious face then watched the slow smile spread on the general's strong features, instantly softening his stern demeanor.

Tarius laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is. Sleep well, General."

Maximus placed his elbows on the desk in front of him and ran his fingers through his cropped hair, sighing deeply, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. He closed his eyes. Within moments his head dropped abruptly then he jerked upright, struggling to keep awake. He heard laughter from the doorway and focused his bleary eyes on the figure there.

"Excuse me, Sir," grinned Tarius, "but did anyone show you where you are to sleep?"

Maximus placed his chin in his palm to prop his head up, smiled ruefully, and shook his head.

"I suppose you could sleep on the desk, Sir, but I think I can find you a more comfortable spot. The outpost is quite crowded but I'm sure we can find a place where you can have a little privacy. I believe the general's room is available," Tarius said, without a trace of irony.

Maximus followed the young soldier through the doorway, grateful to find at least one friendly face at this lonely outpost.

The general's room was somewhat more lavish than Maximus expected. It was not large but was opulently furnished and appointed. "Has anything been disturbed in here?" Maximus asked Tarius.

"I don't know, Sir. It's possible."

Maximus glanced around the room an spotted a pair of women's shoes on the floor near the bed. "Was the general married?"

"Yes."

"His wife was here with him?"

"No. She is in Rome, I believe."

Maximus picked up the shoes. "Then these belong to...?"

"His mistress."

"And where is she?"

"She disappeared too."

"When?"

"At the same time the general did."

"I see. I suppose failure to mention that was just a slight oversight on Oranius' part."

"A slight one, Sir," Tarius agreed.

Maximus placed his hands on his hips and looked around the room. There was a lot more to do before he'd find any rest tonight. "Thank you, Tarius. I'll see you in the morning."

The alcove

By Hebe Blanco

Once inside the private room, Maximus set me on my feet and pulled the curtain closed. The alcove was one of the curtained small areas Cassius always ordered to be set in the back of the tent where one of his famous parties was taking place. He liked to say that he took care his friends' needs -- "of all their needs." he remarked emphatically -- and these cubicles were his personal tribute to those of them who -- unlike him -- preferred a little privacy when it came to enjoying their pleasures. Not that they were too private .... Heavily curtained on all four sides, the alcoves kept those inside from prying eyes but were far from soundproof. The one Maximus has chosen at random was sparsely furnished: just a couch, a small table and an oil lamp which meager light did not reach the far corners. With the curtain closed, we were nearly in the darkness.

Losing the warmth of his big, muscular body was like a slap in my face. I opened my eyes as I staggered and then bit my lip to avoid moaning, so much I needed his arms around me and the feeling of caring and safety I had found in them. But General Maximus seemed to have completely forgotten my presence as he fingered the fabric of the curtain and his eyes searched the alcove and those standing on both sides, all warrior now and not the man who had kissed me passionately merely minutes ago.

The sudden change was disturbing but, seeing under this new light, General Maximus seemed even more magnificent than when he had turned around to face me for the first time. There was something absolutely male, something primal and arousing about him; it was like watching a beautiful lion silently stalking its pray or a majestic wild stallion surveying his territory. Ironically, I thought that probably not many women -- not certainly his wife - had ever seen him as I was seeing him at this moment.

His wife. He had admitted his desire for me. Not that it was necessary: married or not, his traitorous body had spoken by itself. Yet, he had said that he intended to remain faithful to her, no matter how hard it was for him ... There was something unsettling about this austere, handsome man clinging so fiercely to his morals, in the same way he clung to his loyalty to an emperor who was said to be dead. No wonders Cassius was so afraid of him.

The silence stretched until it was unbearable. I needed him to talk to me, to reassure me. Reassure me of what? That he still remembered that I was there? That his body still acknowledged how much he desired me? That I could be treated gently and not only be used and discarded as the slave and whore I was?

"Maximus ...."

He silenced me with a finger to his lips and stood motionless, listening, his head cocked on a slight angle. In the meager, golden light I kept my eyes riveted on his profile as he remained listening for few moments, his elegant nose slightly large but so patrician despite his humble origins.

Then Maximus visibly relaxed, reached for my hand and pulled me close to him, until my breasts just brushed his chest. My nipples hardened into tight buds and liquid fire rushed from them to my limbs and belly. "Very quietly now, tell me what you know," he said.

I could barely breath, less speak. Suddenly, I felt strangely shy and stood awkwardly in front of him, my hands at my sides, wanting to touch him but afraid to do so. I couldn't remember feeling that shy even when I was a little girl and had been forced for the first time to attend one of Cassius' raucous parties. I was sure he could feel my hard nipples through the thin fabric of both our tunics and blushed as if I were an untried virgin facing her first lover.

Maximus prompted me again. "Julia, tell me what Marcellus told you."

Hoping that the surrounding darkness was enough to hide my warm cheeks, I sobered myself, remembering that we were in this alcove to speak privately and not to share our bodies, our lives in great danger. "He sends a warning that Cassius ...

"Suddenly Maximus took me in his arms and hold me tight against him, pushing my face into his shoulder to smother my words. My heart pounding painfully and my blood roaring in my ears, I grabbed his arms for support.

"Stay very quiet," he whispered in my ear.

I shut my eyes tightly and wondered what he had heard. Then I heard it too ... the sound of a curtain being drawn closed in the alcove to the right of ours. Then all was quiet again except for the sound of my pounding heart and my quick, panting breath against his strong neck.

Maximus remained still and silent but he needn't say nothing for I knew what he knew. Somebody was there, in the room beside ours, quietly listening for our conversation ... or the sounds of our coupling.

Maximus let out his breath slowly and whispered. "Quickly. Tell me what Marcellus said to you."

I breathed deeply and repeated the message I have been given by the senior tribune.

"Maximus, you are in great danger. Cassius plans to have you killed and make it look like an accident. He thinks you are far too powerful and that the army would support you against him ... that even his own men would."

"When?"

"I don't know. Soon."

"Go on."

"Marcellus believes that the only way to stop Cassius is to kill him. He is willing to do it if you will protect him and offer him immunity."

"How does he plan to kill him?"

"Cassius does not suspect that Marcellus is against him. He allows Marcellus to get close to him physically ...."

"Shhhh...." Maximus tightened his hold again and I followed his eyes to see what he had detected. Despite the darkness, I saw it: a slight movement of the curtain and a tiny ray of light slanted across the floor. Then, the light disappeared. Whoever was spying on us, was getting either curious or impatient.

Maximus closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, opening his eyes again. His left arm was tightly wrapped around my shoulders while his right hand absently caressed my nape. For a brief moment I wondered what would he say if I told him that, since we had met, his hands had roamed my body more than once and as on their own volition.

"Julia, we need to make some sound. Some... passionate noises," he said under his breath.

Despite the danger we were both in, there was something deliciously absurd about his words ... and the obvious effort he was doing to voice them. I couldn't resist teasing him a little. "Then you're going to have to make love to me, Maximus."

"No. I told you ...."

"Yes, yes, I'm just teasing. Don't worry, I can pretend. It's something I do a lot, believe me." I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes allowing my breath to deepen.

"Can you listen to me while you're doing that?"

The question was so candid that nearly made me laugh and I briefly asked myself what kind of woman was he married to that he knew so little about females ... but probably his wife needn't pretend. Instead of voicing my question, I nodded and punctuated my breaths with a few gasps.

Maximus continued, "Tell Marcellus that I had planned to stall Cassius until Marcus Aurelius got here but I have no idea when that will be so the plan to kill Cassius is the only one that makes sense."

I nodded again, producing a well practiced, husky groan deep in my throat.

Maximus' own breathing started to quicken and I couldn't avoid smiling ... or pushing him a little.

"Oh, General," I moaned. "Oh, do that again."

I moved my hips against his and he grabbed my buttocks, trying to still my movements but I felt him hardening and he jerked his hands away as if he had touched burning coals. I breathed his masculine, musky odor and softly kissed the coarse whiskers on his neck before escalating my breathing again ... but now I was beyond all pretense and for the first time in my life my passion was real, very real, a wet heat pooling between my legs. Leaning against Maximus' muscled body, it was so easy to imagine his hands tearing my tunic, blindly searching for my bare flesh, his lips and tongue caressing my fevered skin. It was so easy to imagine his searing hot mouth crushing mine in a heavy, demanding kiss, then suckling my breasts as a greedy infant. It was so easy to imagine his strong arms lifting me and settling me onto his hips as he entered my body, sheathing the rock hard erection he was pressing against my belly inside me and to the hilt. My right hand sneaked around his neck and caressed his nape and his short, damp hair as my left clutched to his forearm, my nails digging in his heavy muscles, while I suckled and licked the heated skin of his neck, my breasts flattened against his heavily muscled chest.

"Julia, tell Marcellus to go ahead with his plan and that I will give him the support he needs. To do that, though, I must be nearby when he does the deed. It's very important that he does it -- one of Cassius' own men -- to show the others... Julia? Julia? Did you hear me?" whispered Maximus, a touch of urgency in his voice.

"Yes...." I heard both of us as in dreams, unable to bring myself again into reality, unwilling to bring myself into reality. My body took complete control and I surrendered. In his arms, I forgot everything: that I was a slave, that I was a whore, that I had no life of my own but what my master decided it was to be, that I was only a vessel for the others' pleasures, born, raised and trained to be used and discarded. I forgot that I was afraid, that I had been afraid everyday of my life. I forgot that I was lonely, as lonely as it was possible to be. I forgot that I hurt -- body, soul, heart and mind -- every single day. I forgot that there was nothing for me -- no hope, no future, no happiness, no love -- and gave myself completely to the man I was leaning against. The man who wanted me as much as I wanted him. The man who stubbornly refused to acknowledge his own needs.

He shook me slightly. "Julia, listen. I am guarded closely. It will be difficult for me to get away from my guards but I may be able to slip out at night with Claudius' help." I kissed his neck again, licking the hollow where his pulse throbbed as wildly as mine and moved my hips against his once more, desperate to increase the feeling of his hardness against my softness, desperate to feel what made him male against what made me female, desperate to reach the elusive wonder that promised to change everything forever.

Maximus took a few deep breaths, struggling not to loose his control. He was mightily aroused, on the brink of giving himself to the passion that was roaring inside me like a fire. His hands tightened around me, hurting me. Then, in one quick movement, he swept me off my feet and lay me on the couch, which creaked slightly in protest. For a moment, Maximus stood beside the couch, facing me, breathing heavily, his blue eyes blazing with the fire that was also consuming him. I extended my arms to him, silently pleading him to come to me, on top of me, inside me. I spread my tights, silently pleading him to take me ... He balanced on one leg and raised the other but, instead of getting on the couch, he gently placed his knee high between my parted thighs. I reached out to draw him to me. I was beyond shame, beyond dignity, beyond everything but my own need, my need to have him filling me to bursting and thrusting hard and deep and fast inside my willing body. But he grabbed my hands, pulling them away from him as he shook his head no.

Before I could voice my plead, he applied a little pressure against my swollen flesh and I climaxed. Brutally. It took me completely unaware. Six years of whoring day after day had not prepared me for this. I dug my nails in his hands, arched by back and cried.

"Maximus!" Spasm after spasm wracked my body, the sensation so acute, so intense that it was pleasure and it was pain and I didn't know where one ended or the other began. I only knew that I wanted it to go on and on and on.

I fell back on the couch, utterly drained, exhausted, my body bathed in sweat. I didn't notice my hands ease my hold of his or when he removed his knee or left my side to quietly move to the curtained door of the room, parting it slightly and peeking out.

When I regained my senses, he was still surveilling our surroundings. His profile was silhouetted against the golden light. As I used my hand to remove the hair plastered to my face, my eyes caught sight of his left arm. The lamp flickered and I could distinguish the small tattoo inked on his biceps, the SPQR I knew so well, the four letters the symbol of his promise to serve Rome. My eyes roamed down his arm till I reached his left hand where I found what I was looking for ... and was afraid to find and look at: the silver ring that was the symbol of his promise to the woman who owned his heart, his body and his faithfulness. The woman who, for sure, had gone virgin into his bed and given him sons to perpetuate his proud name. I sighed heavily, the weigh of reality crashing over my battered body. "You're a strange man."

I only noticed that I had voiced my thoughts when he dropped the curtain and turned back to me. Maximus crossed his arms and allowed his body to sag somewhat. Suddenly, he looked so very tired, as tired as I was. "Really? How so?" he asked in a hushed tone, his voice even more intoxicating in the hot darkness and the emotional aftermath.

I rolled to my side to adjust my tunic and cover my legs before explaining myself, "You're the only man I've ever met who isn't concerned solely with his own pleasure." I looked at him, his bulging arousal still clearly delineated through the fabric of his tunic. I couldn't avoid grinning wickedly. "You're going to pay for it, you know."

He rubbed a hand across his eyes, then around the back of his neck, a gesture so genuine that I had to steel myself not to cross the alcove and take him in my arms and comfort him as if he was a weary child.

"I know. I just hope I don't have to get on a horse tomorrow," he said huskily.

I chuckled, aware that we were both embarrassed and unsettled and reticent to voice what was in our hearts and minds.

My tone turned very serious. "I envy your wife. She's a very lucky woman."

Maximus smiled. "I like to think so."

"I hope she's worth it."

"She is. I promised her...," his words drifted away, suddenly aware that he was talking about something very personal and private with a woman who had just climaxed on his behalf if not beneath his body.

I didn't want to know. I didn't want to hear about her, about him, about them. I didn't want to hurt myself but to clutch to the heat and the passion I have experienced so recently. But I also needed to go on hearing his voice, his deep, beautiful voice. I needed to treasure that heated rumble in my memory, to comfort me in the lonely, hopeless nights ahead.

"Do you have children?"

He smiled again his sweet, boyish smile and suddenly it seemed like the weight of too many responsibilities and worries have been lifted from him. "A son who's two," he said. "His name is Marcus."

"After the emperor?"

"Yes."

I rose from the couch and approached him slowly, stopping just before he was within touching distance. "You must think a great deal of the emperor."

"I do. He's like a father to me. I lost my father when I was young."

I was quickly reaching the limit of my strength, the turmoil inside me impossible to master. I felt exhausted yet restless. I felt satiated yet in desperate need. I felt warm yet I shivered. I was loosing him and there was nothing I could do to keep him. I sighed heavily and my eyes blurred with unshed, scalding tears. I knew the answer, I knew I was going to be hurt yet I couldn't stop myself. I looked into his eyes, my words hesitant. "What you did to me... was it only because you had to?"

Maximus didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Julia, you'll find someone someday. Someone very special."

My throat tightened. My words sounded strangled in my own ears while I struggled badly against tears, "Maximus, I'm a slave."

"When Cassius is gone you'll have your freedom. You have earned it and so have the other women," he said softly Freedom? Didn't he know that I simply couldn't grasp what the word meant? Didn't he understand that freedom meant nothing to me in this moment because I had become a slave of other kind? What could freedom mean to me now, that I had lost my heart to a man who not only did not love me but loved another woman enough to deny both of us what little we could have had, despite wanting me as much as I wanted him?

He seemed to be waiting for my answer. I steeled myself against pain.

"There's only one you, though. And you're taken," I said.

"Julia, I haven't seen my wife in two years. Being married to a man in my position has tremendous drawbacks. Olivia makes incredible sacrifices ...."

Olivia.

He had said it and I felt as if he had slapped me. The elderly senator had slapped me when, despite of my enslavement and training, my twelve years old body had rebelled against subjugation. He had slapped me. Hard. More than once. Somehow, the physical blows had not hurt as bad as the sound of his wife's name.

"Olivia" I repeated.
Maximus pressed his lips together and looked away, obviously uncomfortable to have voiced the name of his wife in my presence. Then, he anxiously turned the conversation back to the business at hand. "Julia... do you remember what I told you to tell Marcellus?"

"Yes."

"What?"

I closed my eyes. It was over.

I swallowed hard and repeated the message, once again no more than an instrument to be used by men. "That you will support him and that you need to be there when... it is done... but you are heavily guarded. I assume you want him to tell you when, where and how it will happen."

"Yes. And it must be very soon."

"He is to send a message through Claudius?" I asked.

"That would be the safest way."

Suddenly, the danger was very real and the idea of his death at Cassius' hands struck me with the force of a vicious blow. I reached my hands towards him. "Maximus, please be careful. Your life is in great danger. Remember that," I pleaded. He didn't move nor answer. I dropped my hands back to my sides.

He nodded. "I have to go. You've done well, Julia. Marcellus was wise to have chosen you." Then, he swiftly pulled aside the curtain and let it drop behind him as he stepped into the main room without looking back, leaving me alone in the darkness, the same darkness that had co cooned my first ever surrender to a man.

I sat on the couch and hugged myself as I had done when I was but a little girl, his musky scent filling my nostrils, my flesh still swollen and throbbing. I closed my eyes and tightened my arms, trying to capture again the warmth of his body.

I failed miserably. I buried my face in my hands and wept like I had never wept before.

Chapter 93 - An Old Friend

By mid-morning Maximus had interviewed half of the soldiers at the outpost; by mid-afternoon he was almost finished -- and he was getting nowhere. A few soldiers were defensive, as Oranius had been, others claimed to know nothing, and many were so completely awed by the presence of such a great military man that they could barely speak. Maximus scribbled notes as the men spoke but he preferred to study their eyes and posture. He relied on the ever-present Tarius for detailed records.

"Next," said Maximus, his head down as he wrote a few words. Another soldier took the chair on the opposite side of the desk. The general glanced up then looked at his notes again. "Name?"

"You don't recognize me, do you, Maximus."

Startled, Maximus raised his head again and frowned as he studied the man before him. He knew him?

The soldier gave an understanding smile and imitated a child's whiney voice, "Have I ever told you that I was named after an emperor?"

Maximus' jaw dropped. "Lucius? Lucius?" He repeated.

Lucius grinned.

Maximus was out of his chair and around the desk in a flash, pulling his childhood friend into an embrace. "You're breaking my back!" groaned Lucius with what breath he could muster and Maximus immediately released the pressure but continued to hold Lucius' shoulders as he studied him.

"You... you look so different," Maximus laughed as he noted the man's balding head and thickened middle.

"So do you. What I've lost on my head you've gained on your face." Lucius gently tugged Maximus' beard. "You weren't wearing that get-up the last time I saw you, either. And your voice has dropped just a little bit too. I'd know those eyes anywhere, though."

"Come and sit down." Maximus dragged the soldier's chair around to his side of the desk and gestured for Lucius to sit. As he did so, the general caught site of a group men gathered at the doorway straining to see what was happening and impatiently waved them away with his hand. "What are they staring at?" he muttered."

"They're terrified of you and they can't believe that I just tweaked your beard," Lucius grinned. "I told them that I knew you when we were boys together in the army and they didn't believe me. They're here to see me make a fool of myself. Thanks for not letting that happen."

"Tarius," Maximus addressed the scribe, "give my friend and I some private time together. I'll talk to the remaining soldiers later."

"I believe that's it. He's the last one," said the young man as he gathered his notes and left the room, firmly closing the door behind him.

"Oh... good," sighed Maximus. He tugged on his furs and cape and let them drop to the floor. "I was getting tired... and bored." He smiled at Lucius. "We've got a lot to catch up on and -- please -- call me 'Maximus'. It's so good to see you again. How long have you been here?"

"Twelve years."

"What!"

"That's right. Before that I was at an outpost in the east. That's about it. End of my story."

"This is a brutal place to live for that long. I thought men rotated more often than that."

"Regular army does. I'm in the auxiliary, remember? Second class all the way." There was no bitterness in his words and Lucius laughed at the concerned look on his friend's face. "It's not that bad, Maximus. Being in one place that long lets you put down roots. I have a family here."

"A Germanian woman?" Maximus guessed.

"Yes. We have four children. Three girls and a boy... you?"

"I have a wife in Spain and one son, Marcus."

"Yet... your territory is Germania."

Maximus nodded sadly. "We don't see each other often. Sometimes it's years between visits."

"I'm sorry to hear that. In some respects my life is better than yours, then," Lucius observed.

"You may be right."

"Whatever happened to that miserable Quintus?"

Maximus chuckled. "He's my legate."

"You mean you're his boss?"

The general's grin didn't waver.

"Ahhh... that is true justice indeed. But, how did that happen? You came from a humble background."

"Yes, but the emperor arranged for me to be adopted into a senatorial family so I could get to where I am now."

"You could go even further."

"I'm not interested," said Maximus then he steered the conversation away from himself. "What do you do here?"

"I found that I have a knack for languages. I am the main translator as I speak many of the Germanian dialects. I'm not a fighter. I'm not big enough or strong enough for that. My wife's just as happy."

"Did you translate for General Pollienus?"

"Yes."

"So... you knew the man fairly well?"

"As well as anybody. He wasn't that friendly -- kept to himself."

Maximus sat back in his chair and contemplated his friend. "You have been sent to me from the gods, Lucius."

"I'll be pleased to help you in any way I can, Maximus, but I'm afraid I don't know much more than anyone else."

"Do you believe he was murdered?"

Lucius shrugged, "I don't know for sure."

"What do you think?"

"No, I don't think he was murdered." Lucius glanced at the closed door. "Maximus, an outpost is a small Roman community on the edge of a vast sea of peoples who would like to see us gone. We're isolated. The rest of the army doesn't pay too much attention to us until something goes wrong. So... it can be a great place for a greedy man to further his ambitions. It is ripe for corruption." Maximus nodded his understanding, encouraging him to continue. Lucius leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, and dropped his voice as he looked earnestly at Maximus. "I've had other responsibilities here. I worked in stores for a while. The accountant came to me and asked some questions. He found some irregularities. When he pointed them out to the general he was transferred somewhere else and I was removed from that position."

Maximus moved into a posture that mimicked his friend's, their faces close together. "What kind of irregularities?" he asked quietly.

"Supplies that didn't match the orders. Books not balancing."

"Someone was stealing supplies?"

"It appeared that way."

"Why? To sell them?"

"Probably. There is a great demand among the Germanians for Roman supplies. They pay well."

"How do they pay for them? Their currency is worth nothing to us."

"Women... and children. Girls and boys."

"What!" Maximus dropped his heads into his hands and spoke to the floor. "A slave trade. General Pollienus lined his pockets then disappeared?"

"It's highly possible."

"And the claim of his disappearance could be simply a cover-up. If that is the case, then Oranius may be implicated too... and there are probably others." Maximus leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and shook his head. "Why would a tribe sell their own women and children?"

"They don't. They capture them from other tribes."

"Thus fueling the discord between the tribes."

Lucius nodded. "They fight among themselves all the time until there's a common enemy, then it's amazing how quickly they can band together."

"Pollienus' mistress... was she really a slave?"

"Yes."

"So, he conveniently disappears with a pile of money from the sale of slaves and nobody looks for him because he's presumed murdered. Then the Chatti are blamed for his disappearance, to cover up everything, and the tribal leader's daughter is kidnapped to put on a show for Rome."

"Clever, huh?"

"I know you don't know much of what's happening beyond this outpost, Lucius, but the entire northern frontier is smoking like a volcano and it wouldn't take much more than an incident like this to initiate an eruption." Maximus shook his head miserably. "The repercussions of these events could be quite serious indeed."

"I doubt if General Pollienus cares. He's probably in some safe corner of the empire by now. Britannia, no doubt. I would bet that Oranius was planning to disappear too. Then you showed up to ruin everything."

"I have a habit of doing that," Maximus smiled briefly, then his expression turned serious again. "There is sign of tribal unrest right outside the outpost. What would happen if we simply released the Chatti woman to appease her people?"

"She claims she has been raped, don't forget."

"Do you have any idea if that is true?"

"I don't know. Quite frankly, Maximus, few men here would care whether she was or not. They consider her to be nothing more than a barbarian."

"You are married to a Germanian woman. Have other men not done the same?"

"Few. The cohorts tend to change every year. Those soldiers don't care about the local women unless it's just to satisfy their lust. It's only men in the auxiliary -- like me -- who have married."

"So, the tribe would demand reparation for the rape. What might that be?"

"The death of the man, or men, who did it."

"And if we don't know who those men are?"

"Then they'll ask to choose a couple of soldiers, and they'll torture them to death."

"Innocent men, maybe."

"They could be." Lucius leaned over and patted Maximus' knee. "You have quite a problem on your hands, my friend."

Maximus rubbed his eyes as if trying to dispel a headache. "I'm more accustomed to handling weapons than diplomacy."

"I'm sure you're equally adept at both," Lucius replied with true admiration in his voice.

"Years ago... when we were boys... whoever would have guessed that we'd wind up in the positions we're in."

"Your being a general -- and commander of all of the northern legions -- doesn't surprise me in the least. Even then, I knew you were something special."

Maximus looked perplexed. "I didn't see it. Others did, but I didn't."

"A good man rarely recognizes greatness in himself."

"When did you grow to be so philosophical?"

"Long, cold Germanian winter nights will do that to a man. Either that, or drive him mad."

"I'm sorry that the army didn't see your potential." Maximus suddenly smiled, pointed to the wolf on his cuirass and raised his eyebrows. "I can rectify that, you know," he whispered conspiratorially.

Lucius laughed. "Thanks, Maximus, but I belong here now. I have my family and that's enough."

Maximus nodded, a far-away look in his eye. "That's enough for any man."

The night in his tent

Written by Hebe Blanco

Sobs wracked my body with the same force that the climax's spasms had wracked it. This kind of pain was as new and as acute as the pleasure I had experienced so shortly before. I don't know how long I wept. It may have been minutes or hours or days. I felt like howling, as if my heart was going to burst. I felt like running after Maximus, pleading not to be left behind, not to be left alone, to be simply allowed to remain by his side and be able to drink in his gentleness and strength. Desperately, I gulped for air as a drowning man gulps for it. For drowning I was -- drowning in pain and tears and heartbreak. With my face still buried in my hands, I rocked like an anguished child, trying to comfort myself and failing time and again.

Eventually I sobered. My breath eased and the anguished pounding of my heart was replaced by a dull, painful thud. I couldn't remain in the alcove forever. There were questions to answer, a message to deliver and Maximus' safety to consider. I allowed myself some more time to compose myself yet I knew that with my swollen and reddened eyes I could fool no one, least of them Marcellus or Cassius.

I stood up and staggered, my legs nearly failing me. But I steeled against the dizziness, against the desire to lie on the couch, curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep. I steeled myself against the urgency to lie down, to close my eyes and remain there till death came for me... for I knew from long experience that death wouldn't come, no matter how much I invited it.

With a deep breath, I opened the curtain and stepped into the main room only to find that many of the officers had already left and the few remaining were sprawled on couches in different stages of undress, either passed out or asleep. I hoped their snores had been loud enough to muffle my weeping. There was no sign of Maximus or Marcellus or Cassius and most of the women had returned to the slaves' quarters. I bowed my head to hide my teary eyes and hurried out of the tent.

The night was hot and humid as many of the summer nights at Moesia were. I had just taken a few steps towards the women's lodgings when my right arm was caught in an iron grip and I felt myself swiftly turned around. The momentum made me collide with Marcellus' broad chest. I winced and averted my face.

"What took so long, Julia?" he asked under his breath. "General Maximus left the party a long time ago."

"I ... I'm sorry," I stammered, still averting my face "I ... I needed some rest. I'm feeling unwell."

Marcellus was not in the least sympathetic. He was not that kind of man. "Did you do as I told you?" he asked me brusquely. I nodded. "And? What did he say?" I breathed deeply and repeated Maximus' message. What I said seemed to please him for he loosened his grip. "Are you sure?" he demanded.

"I am. He said you must let him know when you plan to do the deed, send him a message through Claudius," I whispered.

Marcellus let my arm go and I staggered again. He looked at me quizzically, then caught my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him. "What is it, Julia?" he asked, his dark eyes scrutinizing my face. "You've been weeping?"

I tried to avert my face again but I was no match for his strength. "I told you I'm unwell... I've done as you asked me. Now, please, let me go."

He did and I turned away and headed to the slaves' quarters but not quickly enough to avoid hearing his laugh and his last remark. "One of these days you must tell me what did he do to you that was so disturbing. I thought you were far beyond blushing and tears, Julia! Perhaps he taught you some new trick?"

Rubbing salt over an open wound is the most common form of torture and I understand it is also a very effective one. Marcellus' words were far worse than salt grains rubbed over my bleeding heart ... I ran towards the women's lodgings. I ran across the praetorium and past its gates, startling the sleepy guards. I stumbled and fell, got on my feet and went on running. I ran past lines of white tents and through the doors of our lodgings, a comfortable building of stone and wood that included our sleeping accommodations and baths and also the quarters of the slave girls who served us. I burst through the door and came to an abrupt halt when the half dozen women who remained in the common room chatting and gossiping turned around to face me.

It never failed to surprise me that they loved so much to talk, that they seemed to have so much to talk about. I rarely looked for human company, longing instead for solitude and peace, refusing to share with them the few moments I had to be by myself. The other women knew this and accepted my decision as they accepted my judgement when it came to the running of our quarters. Ours was a strange friendship.

Now, they all looked at me with startled faces, their eyes wide, their mouths slightly opened. I remained by the door, my hands clutched to my breasts, my breathing uneven. Then, Eugenia came to me. She was a striking brunette, four or five years older than me, her eyes like beautiful emeralds, her satiny skin a lovely shade of bronze. "Julia..." she asked hesitantly "Julia... what is it? What's happened? Are you alright?"

I shook my head no, then bit my lip and put up a hand to keep her at bay. Ariadna chimed in. "What's wrong with her? The last time I saw her she seemed to be all happy and content with this handsome Spanish general."

It was more than I could bear. With a strangled sob I headed to my room. Eugenia tried to stop me. She was a big woman and easily caught me by my shoulders, shaking me slightly. "Julia," she prompted me, "what is it?" I looked into her emerald eyes with eyes that I knew must be wild and again shook my head no. "Julia...," she insisted in a low, urgent voice.

Something snapped inside me. I shook myself free and yelled, "Get away from me!" I ran away still yelling, "Get away from me!"

I got into my room and closed the door, resting my body against it. The other women had to share each bedroom between two or three of them but, being the mistress of the slaves' house and Cassius' favorite, I enjoyed the rare luxury of having one all for myself. It was small yet comfortable, furnished with a couch, a table, a chair and a stool, a cupboard and my chests. I even had a mirror, a polished bronze sheet mounted on the table where two lamps where burning.

"Mistress Julia?" The small voice startled me. I turned to see the little girl who acted as my maid. She was no more than ten years old and black as ebony, with a riot of curls on top of her head. She had big, round eyes and a pouty mouth which may had been beautiful if not for the ugly scar put there by a blow from a careless slave trader. Her name was Rufa and by her looks probably Numidian.

"Mistress Julia," she repeated in her hesitant, gutural Latin, "You alright?"

I nodded and forced myself to smile, aware of the shyness of a girl too young to be serving a whore and hopefully also too young to understand what was happening around her. "Yes, little one," I said, my voice sounding strange in my own ears. "What are you doing here? It's late...," I spoke slowly, for she still had trouble understanding the language of her captors.

"I'm waiting to help you, Mistress Julia," she answered hesitantly, her eyes wide open with the look of fear that always haunted them, no matter how much I tried to convince her that she had nothing to fear from me. "I won't be needing your help tonight, little one. And don't call me 'Mistress Julia' for I'm not your mistress but your sister. I have told you many times that I am a slave like you."

Rufa frowned, confused by my words, words that didn't make sense to her. I sighed. "Go to sleep, Rufa," I said, anxious to be left alone.

"But, Mistress Julia I have brought you scented water for you to--" She stopped in mid-sentence, obviously shocked by the look on my face.

"Go!" I said in a strangled voice. When she didn't move I snarled, "Go! Now!"

She ran out of the room. Once alone, I slowly went to the table and sat on the stool in front of it as I always did when I prepared myself to go to the men I was sent to. I avoided looking at my reflection in the mirror, knowing that my face should be pale, my features drawn, my eyes wild. Instead, I looked down at my fine silk tunic and saw that it was soiled with dirt. Immediately I thought about Turia and how she used to yell at me when I was a child and had soiled my finery hiding in the gardens of Cassius' villa. Turia... The last time I'd seen her, she'd spent her days lying on a couch, coughing her life away as she slowly died of consumption, lonely and forgotten in a back room of the villa. She was a freedwoman and had been Cassius' willing mistress. Had she felt for him what I now felt for Maximus? Had she also been rejected in the end like I had been? I shook my head. I hadn't thought about Turia for a long time. Suddenly, I wished she was there. I wished I could ask her...

I stood up and started taking off my clothes. Rufa had brought me a basin of scented water, a washing cloth and a towel as I had instructed her to do every time I left the quarters to go to a man. Scented water, a washing cloth and a towel to clean away the memories of coupling. But that night there were no memories to erase but memories to treasure: Maximus' musky, masculine odour, his searing hot mouth, his intoxicating voice, his arms around my body, his broad chest and heavy muscles, his rock hard flesh pressing against me....

I finished undressing and put on the flimsy night garment Rufa had left for me on the couch. Then, I went to one of the chests to look for a robe, for despite the hot weather I felt cold. While I was at this, my fingers touched the hidden dagger and I took it out, sitting down again at my table. I turned the dagger in my hands over and over, mesmerized by the shimmer of the cold metal under the golden light of the oil lamps.

As a child growing up in Cassius' villa I never had a doll. I craved for one as much as I craved for my mother but slaves neither have childhood nor toys. Once I made a doll for myself with grass and flowers taken from the gardens and bits of cloth taken from my own garments. I hid it under a thick brush and ran there to play whenever I could. But the grass and the flowers withered and my doll fell to pieces. I repaired it time and again but one day I arrived to the hiding place only to find her gone forever, the gardener probably had found it and put it away with the rubbish That night I cried myself to sleep.

In the years to come I had only treasured one thing with as much passion as I had treasured my grass doll and that was the silver dagger I now had in my hands. It had been there, on the table, near the bed where the senator forced me. He had been using it to peel fruit he fed me and then he had given me a doll, a beautiful doll like I had never seen before. He was a handsome man, his curly brown hair showing patches of silver, his hazel eyes smiling and benevolent. Yet he had accepted Cassius' present, the first one of a long list.

I had been instructed to leave while he slept and I silently slipped of his bed and the room, wincing when my sore body reminded me of what he had done to me... but not before taking the dagger and hiding it in the doll's clothes. That night I didn't weep and in the morning I dropped the doll in a sewer. I had never wept again, not until this night, when my defenses had fallen and my body had soared into an unknown realm of pleasure. I turned the dagger again in my hands, still mesmerized by its gleaming. Then, I took it in my right hand and rested the left one on the table, turning it in order to expose my wrist. The blue veins pulsed smoothly under the translucent skin... Slitting the wrists has always been the favorite Roman method when it comes to taking our lives, although some prefer to drink poison and high-ranking officers often stab themselves. I have heard that slitting your wrists and thus bleeding to death is not a painful death but a peaceful one... as all forms of death are once you accept them. As in a dream, I saw my right hand bring the blade closer to my wrist and gently place the point on the tender skin. Then, I traced a line across it, tiny beads of blood formed immediately along a thin, red line. Curiously detached I thought that there was no pain in what I was doing -- and obviously no harm. I placed the dagger again and this time I pressed a little. Blood surged in a tiny rivulet and ran down my wrist and over the table... still no hurt and still no serious harm. I braced myself to viciously slit across my wrist.

The door banged open.

"Julia!" Eugenia was breathless, her bosom heaving.

Dumbly I raised my head letting the dagger go. It fell on the floor, the carpet muffling the sound. "What...?"

"Julia, there's a guard here looking for you! We tried to stop him but he says he has orders to take you--" Eugenia was roughly pushed aside by the uniformed and heavily-armed man, who had found his way to my room.

"You!" he said in the booming voice that befits Roman militars. "Come with me!"

I rose and hastily wrapped the washing cloth around my wrist.

"Where are you taking her?" demanded Eugenia.

The man just snarled, "Shut up!" and hauled me by my left arm, dragging me along with him while I clutched the robe closed across my breasts.

He dragged me across the camp and into the praetorium. Although I was used to being ordered around I had never been treated like this. I thought that Cassius had discovered the truth about Marcellus and my role in the plot. He wouldn't care that I had been ordered into it by his legate. He was an unforgiving man and would have me dead no matter how much I argued my innocence. I was not afraid of dying... just disappointed that the guard had not arrived a few minutes later: at least I should had robbed Cassius the chance to kill me, I who had always been forced to submit to his will.

But the guard didn't bring me to Cassius' tent. Instead, he dragged me ahead of it and to another one. My eyes widened when I saw Maximus standing by the entrance, obviously waiting for my arrival. The guard roughly thrust me into his arms and he nodded his thanks to him, then easily lifted me off my feet with an arm under my breasts, carrying me through the door and over to his bed before setting me down, my body still held firmly in his grasp.

I hadn't been scared when I thought I was being taken to Cassius, but now, looking into Maximus' face, I was as scared as I had ever been. "Maximus--" My words strangled in my throat when I felt the sharp point of a knife under my ear. His eyes were no longer gentle but pools of icy blue. But even more frightening was the sound of his voice as he snarled in my ear.

"Nice performance tonight, Julia."

"Maximus, I don't understand." My whole body was trembling.

"Keep your voice down or I'll slit your pretty throat."

I tried desperately to lighten his mood. "I knew you'd be frustrated but this...."

"Shut up and do as I say. Describe Claudius to me."

Claudius? What was he talking about? I looked into his eyes but they gave away nothing. As I hesitated, he pressed the knife blade a little and I winced. "I've never seen him."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the guards pull aside the heavy curtain slightly to peer inside, obviously interested in taking a look at the general's sexual prowess... or perhaps that of his whore.

"Get out!" barked Maximus without even turning around, his cold, steely eyes never leaving mine. The sound of his voice was as sharp as the blade of the knife he pressed against my flesh and I flinched as if he had hit me. The curtain dropped back into place and Maximus continued his interrogation. "Who arranged for you to meet with me tonight?"

"Marcellus did."

"Marcellus. Is he a real tribune, Julia?"

I whimpered slightly, terrified at Maximus' sudden brutality. He was no more the passionate man who had kissed me at Cassius' party nor the man who had shared with me the heated darkness of the alcove. This man was a complete and dangerous stranger, a man who could easily threaten, inflict pain or kill. A man who would not hesitate to do any of these things.

"Yes, yes. He's one of Cassius' closest advisors."

"And he told you what to say?"

"I just repeated to you exactly what he told me to say. General, what is wrong?"

Maximus' chest heaved with his anger and his breath was ragged in my ear. He growled, "Claudius isn't Claudius."

"What?"

"I know Claudius from Germania and the man claiming to be him looks nothing like him. Claudius is ... was ... of medium build and fair. This man is stocky and lacking hair."

I Immediately recognized the officer he was describing. "That's Balbinus," I said "He's a tribune and a close friend of Marcellus. Maximus... what's going on?"

"I do not know. But you're part of it."

Part of what?

Little by little, the pieces fell into place. There was something wrong about the message I had been ordered to deliver. Maximus had discovered a plot inside the plot ... and he suspected me to be part of it. I looked into his eyes, silently pleading my innocence ... but his eyes still gave nothing but a look of cold hatred that sent shivers down my spine as his heated gaze had sent them not so long before. My eyes blurred again. It was a good thing that they did. Because of the knife I couldn't avert my face without getting hurt but I also couldn't go on looking into his angry face. "Please I just delivered the message, Maximus. I'm not part of any conspiracy against you." I was quietly weeping now, weeping as you do when you are too spent to plead or hope. "You believe that I could do that to you?"

"I believe that you can do anything you want. That was a nice little performance you put on for me tonight," he snapped, his voice a dangerous growl.

I wanted to argue, to plead my innocence... to what end? He knew me for what I was, a slave and a seasoned whore, and slaves and whores are known to be liars. Yet I needed to convince him that I had nothing to do with any plot but had only delivered the message I had been told. I placed a shaking hand over his fist that held the knife to my throat and offered him what little I had to offer: the truth, the most painfully intimate truth I had ever had to face or voice. "It was no performance, Maximus," I whispered, my eyes blurred with unshed tears.

He allowed my hand to pull the knife away and didn't move when I stepped back and turned to face him, hugging myself and trying to stifle the sobs that now escaped my throat no matter how hard I struggled to swallow them. I bowed my head and my long, red-gold hair concealing my down-turned face. "I wouldn't ... I didn't ... I ...," I stuttered through hiccuping sobs.

Maximus sighed impatiently then jammed the knife into the back of his belt and tried to gather me into his arms while I resisted and tried to curl away from him. But Maximus would not take my refusal; he insisted and I gradually sank against him as tears of relief and anguish and heartbreak flowed freely. I rested my head on his shoulder and wept till my tears dampened his red wine tunic while he caressed and soothed me as if I were both the frightened little girl who had never had a doll and the grown up woman who was so desperately alone. And both the one I had been and the one I was at that moment found warmth and comfort and safety in his strong arms.

For a long time, the only sound in the tent was that of my sobbing. Then, Maximus whispered into my hair, his voice apologetic, "I'm sorry. I've made you cry a lot tonight. I don't know who I can trust, Julia, or who is trying to lead me into a trap. And I don't know where you fit into that scenario."

His deep, beautiful voice lulled me and I felt like melting against his body."No one confides in me, Maximus. I am simply used ... as a messenger, as a vehicle for pleasure. I just serve men's needs. Nothing more." I pulled back to look into his gentle blue eyes. "If I thought that I did something to hurt you ... even inadvertently ... I could never live with that."

"You didn't. Come over here and sit down." Maximus took my hand and brought me to his bed, where we sat down side by side, close but not touching. "I would never have hurt you with that knife," he said with a little smile.

I couldn't avoid returning the smile through my tears. "Well, you seemed pretty convincing," I said. "You can be very scary when you want to be."

"I know. It comes in handy sometimes." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Julia, I need your help."

"How can I help you?"

"I must kill Cassius and make it look like one of his men did it."

"Why one of his men?"

"Because if I kill him I'll never get out of here alive and neither will my men. But if the soldiers of this legion think that one of their own killed him it would throw them into enough confusion for supporters of Marcus Aurelius to gather the strength they need to take control ... with my help, of course."

He paused as I frowned and allowed me time to absorb what he had said before adding, "Will you help me?"

I nodded. "You know I will." I paused then said, "Will you trust me?"

"Yes."

"You're sure? I don't want to get hauled in here again with a knife to my throat."

Maximus smiled at my teasing tone and I asked myself briefly what it was about him that made me playful and teasing as I had never been even in the face of danger. "I don't blame you," he said, contrite as a boy who had been caught in mischief.

"What about the plot against your life. You're in danger too, remember?" I asked.

"Balbinus warned me against going for a ride outside the camp later today. Maybe Cassius intends to leave the camp after scaring me into staying behind where I will be conveniently dead by the time he returns and his hands will be spotlessly clean.

"I shuddered at the mere idea of his death. Maximus noticed my distress. "I'll just have to thwart whatever he has in mind," he said casually as he placed one of his large, sword-callused hands over mine, covering them completely. "Are you familiar with Cassius' routines?"

I nodded. "Too familiar."

"Describe them to me so I can figure out when and where to do this." I sighed. There was no way out.

Maximus interrogated me for over an hour making me repeat time and again what I knew about Cassius' routines. He was a merciless interrogator and I pitied his enemies. More than once I averted my eyes from his, when the knowledge I was pouring in his ears left no doubt about the degree of intimacy I had shared with the man he was going to kill. When this happened, Maximus absently brushed back a lock of my hair and I asked myself once more if he didn't even notice that he was touching me ... that he seemed to be unable to control his need to touch me.... When I finished, Maximus remained silent for a moment then rubbed his hand over his tired eyes and the back of his neck, the gesture so familiar to me even if I have known him only for a few hours.

"Julia," he said "I need to get out of this tent and talk to my men and I have to do it before daylight. I think I can sneak away but I need a place to hide till I can act and I can't remain with my cavalry for as soon as they notice I'm gone they'll search their quarters. And I need to be inside the camp in order to act. Is there any place where I can hide?"

I frowned and pressed my lips together while I thought about Maximus' request, his eyes fixed on my face. There was only one place where I could hide him and at the same time be near enough to help him. "The women's quarters," I said "Our lodgings are at the back end of the camp, a big stone and wood building. There's a small back door used by the slaves to take the laundry to the river. You will find it easily. It's barred from the inside but I'll have it opened and be waiting there for you."

Maximus nodded. "Is there any place inside the building were I can hide? A cellar perhaps?" he asked.

"No," I said "just our sleeping quarters and baths and the lesser slaves' lodgings."

He sighed, "It will have to do. What about the other women?"

"Leave them to me. They'll do as I say... they all hate Cassius."

Maximus nodded again, "I'll be there an hour after you go back. They'll think I overslept and won't notice my absence for hours. Be waiting for me at the back door".

I nodded, my mind racing with the implications of what I was going to do. Of what I had to do.

"Julia," Maximus gently touched my cheek, "I want you to understand how dangerous this is. Things can go wrong and I may not be able to protect you."

Protect me? The only time I had been protected was when Cassius had denied his friends the permission to deflower me at one of his parties. "I know, Maximus. And you need not worry about me. I'll be fine," I whispered

Maximus smiled and gently took my hands in his, those big, warm, strong hands, both capable of bringing death and comfort, of drawing blood and caressing. Then, he brought mine to his lips and softly kissed my fingers, his lips warm, his beard lightly rasping my skin. It was my turn to smile, but my lips trembled and I swallowed hard. Maximus raised his head and looked into my eyes, still keeping my hands in his, his thumbs absently caressing my wrists. He stopped suddenly and brought my left hand to him, turning it to examine the bandage.

"Maximus ..." I started, trying to snatch my hand away. But he didn't allow me and pushed my robe away to examine the bandage that had not been there when we had first met: it was stained with blood. Maximus raised his head to look directly into my eyes.

"What's this?" he snapped none to gently. I braced myself against his anger.

"Nothing," I said "An accident...."

"What's this?" he repeated, his voice low, his tone dangerous. When I failed to answer, he tore the bandage away and brought my wrist closer to the light to better examine it. I held my breath. The thin, red, angry line across my flesh spoke by itself. His rough handling had re-opened the deeper wound I had inflicted a little lower. Blood flowed in a tiny rivulet, smearing his callused fingers.

Maximus turned to me his now angry face. "What in Hades were you trying to do?" he snarled. I tried again to snatch my hand but was no match for him. "What were you trying to do?" he repeated. He was furious, his blue eyes blazing with lethal anger ... And I was starting to feel angry myself. Bitterly angry.

"What does it matter to you what I was trying to do?" I snapped back. "You are not my master! If I take my life, I won't be robbing you of a valuable piece of property! What is it to you if I live or die?"

He flinched as if I had hit him but quickly recovered. He grabbed me by my forearms, his hands like iron grips and brought me closer to him, our torsos touching.

"You want to die, Julia?" he hissed, shaking me till my teeth rattled, my hair falling on my face. "You want to die?" he repeated.

It was too much. I couldn't take it. Not that night. Not from him. I shook my face to remove the tendrils that obscured my sight and hissed back at him. "Yes! Yes, I want to die! I have wanted to die for as long as I can remember but I didn't know it! Not until tonight! I want to die, General Maximus! What is it to you?"

"What is it to me?" he growled, his voice raising dangerously. "You dare ask me what is it to me if you live or die?"

"Yes!" I hissed back, now beyond fear as I had been beyond shame shortly before.

Maximus shook me again. "Do you know how many people I have seen die? Do you know how many men and boys I have seen pleading to the gods and the surgeons not to let them die?" he growled. "Do you know how many people I have killed or sent to their death? Do you know what all this blood and death does to a man's soul?"

He stopped. The bewildered look in his eyes told me that he had said too much that he had voiced something buried in the depths of his soul, something that tormented him. That he had never before confessed this to anyone... not even to himself. His hands tightened painfully on my forearms. The moment seemed to stretch forever, our eyes fixed in each others', both holding our breath. Maximus dipped his head and his mouth crushed mine in a heavy, punishing kiss. I kissed him back with a blazing passion I never suspected was possible. With a sigh, I opened my lips inviting him into my mouth while I struggled against his iron hold, desperate to touch him, to feel his body.

Abruptly, Maximus tore his mouth from mine and stood up. He walked away, turning his back to me. I straightened and hugged myself, trying to stop the trembling that had already started. Maximus' breath was as hard as mine. In the dim light, I saw him make his hands into fists.

"Maximus..." I whispered.

He opened his fists and pressed his hands flat on the near table, his arms wide spread, his head bowed.

"Maximus...."

"Go," he said in a flat voice.

I stood up but I couldn't force myself to leave. Not after his kiss. Not after knowing that he hurt inside as much as I hurt. Not after knowing that he cared for me. That what we had shared in the curtained alcove -- despite his denial -- had not been mere lust but what we all crave for and very few attain. I started to move towards him but he stopped me dead.

"Go!" he repeated, his voice strained. "I'll be there as we agreed."

I averted my eyes from him. "Call for the guard to bring me back to the slave quarters," I said in a surprisingly firm voice. "You want them to know that you were here near dawn".
Maximus nodded silently, then slowly raised his head, still showing his back to me.

Before he could speak I added, "Move into the shadows ... I was supposed to be pleasuring you all night long ... Don't let them see that you haven't even taken off your clothes."

Maximus straightened and moved into a dark corner of the tent. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, bracing myself to face what was to come.

"Guard!" he shouted in his best military voice. "We're finished here!"

But we both knew that we were not.

Chapter 94 -The Hostage

Maximus opened the heavy, wooden door then quickly ducked as he caught a glimpse of something hurtling towards his head. The plate shattered against the wall showering the general with shards of glass as the two guards leaped across the room, grabbed the woman's wrists and immobilized her arms against the stone wall. She screeched at the guards in a language that Maximus couldn't understand then turned her eye on him as he slowly stood upright, brushed the glass out of his fur cape and approached her. He moved no closer to her than two arms' lengths but she still managed to spit at him, her spittle catching him on his right cheek. Lucius and Tarius gasped at her gall but Maximus simply sighed and rubbed his face against his furred shoulder. "I think I've met your brother," he muttered, then he ordered the guards to tie her to a chair.

He turned his back on the shrieking woman and grabbed another simple wooden chair which he placed just beyond her kicking distance. Turning it backwards, he sat with his forearms resting casually on the back and his booted legs spread on either side. "I know you can speak Latin, my Lady, so why don't we just get on with this."

She raised her eyebrows and feigned ignorance. The Chatti woman was of middle height and slim with stringy, dull brown hair and a dirty face. Her clothes were made of plain brown wool and badly soiled. Her filthy feet were bare. A strong, sour odor emanated from her making Maximus' nostrils twitch. There was nothing very memorable about her except her blazing blue eyes which spoke volumes about what she would like to do to the Roman general. She cursed him in her native language and in Latin, and spit in his direction again, this time falling far short of the mark.

Maximus remained outwardly unemotional. "My name is General Maximus Decimus Meridius. I am commander of the northern legions of the Roman army. I am here because of General Pollienus' disappearance and your abduction. I am investigating both, as well as your claim of rape by Roman soldiers."

She glared at him.

"Your name is...?"

"That's none of your fucking business."

Maximus blinked twice and unconsciously straightened. This was a Chatti noblewoman? "All right. I shall simply call you 'my Lady', then."

She sneered.

He forced his shoulders to relax. "I'd like you to tell me what happened to you."

"I've already told my story," she said, her voice brittle with bitterness.

"Not to me and I'd like to hear it directly from you rather than from the soldiers."

"Why, General... will it arouse you?"

"Not in the least, I assure you," Maximus replied without hesitation, but he decided to try another approach. "Are you hungry?"

"What do you care," she asked sharply as she tossed her head, trying to flick errant strings of hair out of her eyes.

Maximus swiveled his shoulders and addressed the men behind him. "Guards, it's cold in here. Get a fire going. Lucius, see if you can find her clean clothing, and Tarius, bring some food and wine." The men silently filed out of the room to do the general's bidding.

"Want to get me alone, General ?"

"Not particularly."

"Why, is there something wrong with you?"

"No I just don't find scrawny, dirty, foul-mouthed women appealing."

She was momentarily taken aback then rallied for another attack. "No doubt your whores are dressed in the finest clothes and bathe in perfume every day."

He wasn't about to be baited. "Let me ask you again... what happened to you?"

"What does it look like happened, you stupid Roman." She twisted her arms but the bonds held firm so she kicked the chair legs in frustration.

Maximus tried to guess how old she was. Sixteen? Seventeen? Despite her bravado she was nothing more than a bedraggled, frightened girl. "Who brought you here?" he asked gently.

She clamped her mouth shut.

Lucius returned with food. "Put it down over there, please." Maximus pointed to a table near the woman. She wouldn't be able to reach it but she could smell it.

She scowled at Lucius then regarded Maximus with raised eyebrows. "He's your slave?" she asked sarcastically.

"No, he's my friend."

"You have friends, General? It's amazing what a fancy uniform can buy, isn't it?"

Maximus acknowledged her wittiness with a nod. "Would you like something to drink?"

Her eyes darted towards the table then returned to his face. She remained silent, trying to stare him down.

"Talk to me, then you may eat and drink."

Involuntarily, she swallowed but she said nothing.

Maximus' patience was finally wearing thin. "Excuse me, my Lady," he said, standing up and straddling the chair, "but you can let the guards know when you are ready to talk. Until then, I have better things to do with my time." He swung his leg over the seat and headed for the door.

She watched him warily, not quite believing that he would leave.

He did.

From outside the doorway Maximus beckoned to Lucius then addressed him in a whisper after the door was shut, even though she would not be able to hear. "Lucius, that woman reeks. When was the last time she had a bath and changed her clothes?"

"Weeks ago. She won't take her clothes off for any reason."

"Well, if she's been raped, that's understandable. But, I can't sit there and talk to her again until she's less aromatic."

Lucius nodded and said thoughtfully, "My wife may be able to help."

An hour later a tub full of warm water sat on the bedroom floor with soap and soft towels piled beside it along with plain, but clean, clothes. Lucius' pretty, plump wife, Erika, smiled encouragingly at the hostage as she rolled up her sleeves, preparing for action. Lucius kept watch over the proceedings from a chair in the corner and two guards stood just outside the closed door.

"What do you think you're doing?" the bound woman demanded in her own language. She recognized Lucius' wife.

"Preparing to help you bathe, my lady. The general thinks you stink."

Her eyes widened in surprise and she growled in outrage. "How dare you take his side. You are one of us!"

"I think you stink too. Where's your pride, my Lady? You present yourself as a slovenly woman, not the lady you are."

"And you are married to a Roman!" She tossed her head in Lucius' direction. "You're a traitor to your people!"

"No traitor, my Lady. Simply a happy wife and mother who understands what is important in life. Now... let's get you bathed, shall we?

The comments about her odor had obviously touched a nerve. The hostage sullenly looked at Lucius. "Tell him to leave," she instructed his wife.

"I'm not leaving my wife alone with you, my Lady. I have no desire to look, I assure you," replied Lucius with conviction.

"Then turn your chair to face the wall!"

Lucius sighed and did as he was bid. A short time later he heard the water splash in the tub.

Lucius found Maximus standing in the frigid air at the top of the stone tower staring at the huge bonfires that dotted the dark landscape surrounding the outpost. Voices of Chatti tribesmen drifted to his ears. Four guards stood watch behind the general, fidgeting, their nervousness apparent. Without shifting his eyes from the fires Maximus said, "Look at them, Lucius. Right now it's just a show of power but if their numbers increase we are in serious trouble. Nobody would get out of this place alive. I'm going to send a soldier back to Bonna tonight under cover of darkness to get three more cohorts out here." He managed a grim smile. "This is a bit like being marooned on a tiny island surrounded by hungry sharks."

With a casual familiarity, Lucius placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder and he couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. "Maximus, look at this." An intricate gold necklace studded with small, sparkling jewels dangled from his fingertips. "My wife found it hidden in the clothing of our Chatti hostage, along with other similar treasures. That's why she didn't want to take her clothes off." Lucius turned it over in his hand for Maximus to examine in the lamplight. "It's Roman and probably worth a great deal. There is no place around here that she could get this unless somebody gave it to her." Lucius looked at Maximus proudly. "She's ready to talk."

The room had quite a different atmosphere than when Maximus had left it. The windows had been thrown open to let in fresh air which had then been warmed by a crackling fire that cast a cheerful, dancing light on the stone walls. The plates on the table contained nothing but crumbs and the Chatti hostage sat demurely in her chair, her hands in her lap. Her freshly-washed hair was still damp but glowed a soft dark-gold in the firelight. Her skin was flawless and slightly flushed with emotion. Her eyes shone a bright, luminous blue. She was a striking woman.

Maximus smiled and nodded his thanks to Erika. She blushed deeply as she returned his smile, then she picked up the damp towels and left the room.

"My Lady," said Maximus as he sat down and casually crossed his ankle over his knee, clasping his fingers around his upraised knee. "I trust you feel better. Are you willing to tell me your name now?"

She regarded him sullenly from under her lowered eyebrows but she finally mumbled a reply.

Maximus leaned forward and tilted his head in a questioning gesture. "Pardon?"

"Freyda!" she snapped at him, her mood obviously not much improved.

He abruptly sat back again. "Thank you, Freyda."

"You're welcome... Maximus."

He bowed his head briefly, indicating his permission for her to address him in such a manner, then he pulled the necklace out from under his cape and dangled it in front of her face. "Where did you get this, my Lady?"

She averted her eyes and refused to answer.

Maximus waited a very long while in silence, until she started to squirm under his scrutiny. "My Lady, do you know what can happen to a slave in the Roman empire?" She turned her face away from him and closed her eyes. "Starvation beatings torture rape mutilation even murder." He held up the necklace again. "Is this jewelry worth subjecting even one child to that kind of ordeal?" He studied her profile. He saw her swallow and her lower lip quiver slightly. She stubbornly pressed them together.

Maximus' voice was calm, "I knew a woman once who was born a slave. A fine, brave, intelligent and beautiful woman who was given to any man that her master saw fit... even as a child. Despite her many personal attributes, she considered killing herself rather than enduring a life of such humiliation and pain." Maximus leaned towards Freyda again, forcing her eyes to meet his. "How does it feel to know that you helped send many women and children to a similar fate? All for the sake of trinkets like this."

Freyda flew out of her seat and whirled around to confront Maximus. Startled, the guards quickly rushed to grab her but Maximus waved them away and remained seated -- outwardly relaxed.

"You don't understand! You don't understand!" she cried. "It wasn't the necklace. He told me he loved me! He told me he'd take me to Rome... that we'd live in a villa by the sea." Tremors raked her slender body and she hugged her stomach as if in pain.

"Who is 'he'? General Pollienus?"

"Yes! Yes!" She was crying in earnest now. "He lied to me."

"Pollienus had a wife and a mistress. Why did you think that he'd give them up for you?"

"I didn't know that he was married," she wept. "His mistress was just for show. He slept with me!"

"Where? Here? At the outpost?"

"Sometimes... but mostly not," she sniffled.

"Where?" Maximus persisted.

"We mostly met at a hut in the forest near here."

Maximus looked at Lucius who shook his head and shrugged. They'd have to search for it. The general continued, "He deceived everybody, Freyda, not just you." She was standing close to the wall now, her forehead pressed against the cool stone. Maximus rose and quietly walked towards her, talking all the while to avoid startling her. "He was obviously using you as he used many others." Maximus braced his hand on the stone wall above her head. "Freyda," he said quietly, "did he rape you?"

She shook her head, her body trembling.

"Did any Roman soldier rape you?"

She shook her head again, rubbing it against the rough stone.

"Why did you tell that story?"

"He told me to."

"Was the abduction staged?"

"Yeyes."

"There was no kidnapping," Maximus stated.

She shook her head again, tears streaming down her face.

"Who brought you here, then?"

"Orianus."

Maximus' suspicions were confirmed. He was still puzzled, though, by the young woman who pressed herself against the wall as if willing it to swallow her up." You helped General Pollienus get away. After the promises he made, didn't you think it was odd that he didn't take you with him?"

"He said he'd send for me," she whispered.

Despite what she had done, Maximus had to fight the strong urge to take this young woman into his arms and comfort her. "What role did you play in the abduction of the women and children who were sold into slavery?"

"He... he had me talk to them... to get them to trust me."

"He used you as bait -- you, the daughter of a Chatti chieftain. You lured them into captivity."

A raw sob escaped her throat.

"One more question. Was Oranius part of the slave trade?"

She nodded and spoke to the wall. "He got a share of the money. He's planning to leave too, as soon as it won't look suspicious. I overheard them talking about it."

Satisfied with her answers, Maximus started to remove his hand from the wall and turn away but she grabbed his arm to stop him. Once again the guards started towards them. "Stay where you are," Maximus ordered and he turned his attention back to Freyda. "What is it?"

"What are you going to do with me?"

He looked down into blue eyes swimming in tears and fear. "Return you to your father so you can tell him the truth and, hopefully, avert a very serious war."

"He'll kill me for disgracing him."

"Freyda, listen to me carefully." Any warmth that had been in Maximus' voice was now gone. "If I have to sacrifice your life to save thousands of others... I'll do it." Maximus pried her fingers from his arm and left the room without a backward glance. As he passed the guards he said, "Arrest Oranius."

Later that night, guards kicked down the door of the forest hut and shone a lantern inside. Maximus pushed past them and stepped onto the frozen dirt floor of the one-room hovel. The crude furniture consisted of a table, two chairs and a bed. Sprawled on the bed was the naked, frozen body of a young blonde woman, her eyes open and staring, raised black welts on her neck. Pollienus' mistress.

The pale light of dawn brightened the eastern sky when Maximus sat down in the clearing beyond the back gate of the outpost with Freyda's father. Four chairs rested on the frosted ground, formed a simple square. Maximus sat with his back to the outpost, wiggling his toes to try to keep the blood flowing inside his damp boots. The inviting aroma of cooking fires floated to his nostrils and made his empty stomach rumble. Behind Maximus stood eight armed guards, and behind them, a fully-armed cavalry, their horses snorting and pawing at the frozen earth. The chieftain was equally well protected by husky, long-haired men in scruffy furs carrying swords. Freyda sat to Maximus' left and Lucius to his right. "Tell your father everything," Maximus instructed.

There was genuine fear in her eyes as she addressed the tall warrior and as she spoke, Lucius translated for Maximus. The chieftain's face remained impassive but Freyda was shaking with fear or the cold.

"Tell him again that you were not raped and that you agreed to your so-called 'abduction'."

Freyda turned pleading eyes to Maximus. "I told him."

"Tell him again. There can be no misunderstanding."

With halting words she repeated those points.

"Lucius, ask the chieftain to call off any escalation of their protest."

As Lucius spoke, the Germanian leader looked right into Maximus' eyes. The chieftain's answer made Lucius gasp. "Maximus, he says it's too late. Thousands upon thousands of warriors from dozens of tribes are already on their way and could be here by the end of the day. Even if he tells them the truth, he feels that they will not be in a mood to listen. He says he cannot stop them. They are coming expecting war."

Maximus rose to his feet, causing the chieftain to jump up as well. The man was at least a half-head taller than Maximus. "Lucius, tell him that our meeting is over and that he should remove his warriors to allow us time to evacuate the outpost. It is the honorable thing to do."

Lucius translated his general's words and the chieftain slowly shook his head as he replied in his native tongue. Lucius drew a shaky breath. "He says he cannot do that. He says that the other chieftains will kill him when they find that he had the Roman warrior leader in his grasp then let him go."

Maximus addressed the huge Germanian directly. "If you attempt to detain me, the full wrath of the Roman Empire will descend upon your people."

The two leaders stared at each other, one tall, broad and long-haired. The other shorter but equally strong and garbed regally as Rome's finest warrior. The men behind them eyed each other warily. "Lucius," said Maximus, addressing his translator without moving his eyes away from the chieftain. "Tell my cavalry to start evacuating the auxiliary and their families. There is no time to gather any belongings. They are to head directly south and not stop for any reason, even to sleep. The outpost soldiers will accompany them. Then, tell the Chatti leader that I will stay as long as he lets everyone but me and my men leave peacefully."

"Maximus," said Lucius with a touch of desperation. "That leaves only the cavalry to protect you. We could be talking about tens of thousands of Germanian warriors here by tomorrow. As good as your soldiers are, they wouldn't stand a chance."

Maximus nodded once to indicate that he had heard Lucius' plea but said, "Get your wife and children out of here -- and go with them."

Lucius' voice trembled. "Has anybody ever directly disobeyed one of your orders, Sir?"

Maximus was wary of Lucius' sudden formality. "No."

"Then please don't make me be the first. I will send my family to safety, but I want to stay with you. You need a translator."

Maximus' eyes expressed his appreciation. "Go and get your family organized -- but before you do, tell the chieftain that my men and I are going inside for food and warmth."

Lucius translated the Germanian warrior's reply. "He wants a sign of good faith that you will not leave with the others."

"Fine... he shall have it." Maximus beckoned a guard and gave instructions that sent the soldier hurrying away.

No one moved or spoke until the guard returned with three others -- and a frightened, struggling Oranius. "You can't do this," he screamed at Maximus as he was handed over to the Germanians. "You can't sentence me without a trial! They'll kill me! There are laws! There are Roman laws!"

"Oranius, in a situation like this... I am the law." Maximus growled then he bowed briefly to his counterpart and headed back to the stone building, his soldiers following once the Germanians started to disperse. But, Maximus hesitated and turned around to find the chieftain's eyes still on him. "Your daughter she was duped by the Roman general. He fooled many people." Freyda looked at Maximus with gratitude and he continued on his way to the relative safety of the outpost.

Chapter 95 - Alone

Maximus and Lucius stood alone atop the stone tower watching the steady procession of Romans abandon the outpost. Men, women and children, on foot, on horseback and in wooden carts trudged away from the only home many of them had ever known. Most resolutely faced straight ahead but some turned to steal a last glimpse of the crude stone structure. If they reached the Rhine, their future would almost certainly be better than their lives had been in the wilds of barbarian territory, but many dangers threatened them on their journey through the densely-forested demilitarized zone, not the least of which were renegade Germanian warriors who swore allegiance to no tribe. But, the procession numbered in the hundreds and included the cohorts of outpost soldiers, who were glad to be leaving, as well as many of Maximus' own cavalry -- all heavily armed and highly skilled with the weapons they carried.

Maximus remained in the tower placing himself on clear display as a show of strength and courage to those in the procession, but also to ensure the Chatti leaders that he had indeed remained behind as he promised he would. His presence in the outpost would almost certainly ensure safe passage for the Roman citizens who were now headed for safer land.

Maximus' cape gently wafted in the cold breeze but, other than that, he seemed carved of marble. Lucius stole glances at the preoccupied man but he had no insight to what was going on in his mind. Was he planning strategy for his own escape? Was he frightened for his own safety? If so, he did not display his fears as his hands resting on the stone wall were relaxed. Although they had started their military lives in the same manner many, many years ago, their lives since then had been drastically different. When he studied the general's strong, determined face, Lucius wondered what right he had to stand beside this remarkable man as if he were his equal. Now that he had met the mature Maximus, he understood completely why he had been chosen as a leader of the Roman army and Lucius felt overwhelmed by his mere presence.

Maximus' eyes flicked to the outpost compound where his remaining cavalry seemed to meander without purpose, coming and going through the open front gates, accompanying the evacuees for a distance then returning -- some on horseback and some on foot. They seemed completely disorganized but Lucius knew better. He was convinced that whatever was going on had been thoroughly orchestrated by the indomitable man beside him and that every movement was purposeful.

Germanian warriors seemed content to stand back and jeer the evacuees knowing that the prize they coveted was still in their grasp and standing like some invincible god atop the outpost tower. They knew that without their legendary leader the invincible Roman army would be impotent and render the northern empire vulnerable just long enough to suffer a mortal wound. The warriors raised their axes, swords and spears in a threatening manner while hooting, hollering and sneering at the departing Roman citizens. Their appearance alone was unnerving enough, with their huge size, strangely knotted hair, long beards and rough garments.

Will there be a war, Maximus? Lucius didn't know that he had spoken the words aloud until the general responded.

"We are already at war, Lucius, but I won't allow innocent civilians to be the first casualties, nor the soldiers at this outpost who would be slaughtered like spring lambs."

Lucius knew that that could mean only one thing. "You are prepared to offer yourself as the first casualty instead?"

Maximus didn't reply.

"Maximus, do you have any idea what they would do to you? I've seen it, Maximus. I've seen soldiers who have been tortured and murdered by the tribes. They suffered unspeakable agonies before they were permitted the sanctuary of death."

Maximus' blue eyes followed the tail end of the procession until it was swallowed by the dense, dark forest. Only then did he sigh and close his eyes. "They'll never take me alive, Lucius. I'll go down fighting."

"Maximus--"

The general moved for the first time in hours, finally turning to face his friend, his voice lowered to a whisper despite the distance between them and their enemy. "The cohorts on their way from Bonna will pass the procession on the road and continue here, but not before sending for back-up. Within days there will be a full-scale battle waged just outside these walls. Lucius, you don't understand what's been going on here so I'll explain it to you. We are alone. My cavalry is gone. It's just you, me... and some horses.

"Alone?" Confused, Lucius shook his head trying to understand that implications of that statement.

"Yes. I didn't want to sacrifice my cavalry any more than I wanted to endanger the cohort soldiers.

"How... how did they--?"

"The cavalry? While the evacuation was happening I had them wander in and out of the outpost in what seemed like a random pattern. In fact, they were hiding most of the horses in the forest and bringing the same ones back into the compound over and over. Then, they went over the south wall while the Germanians were having their fun at the main gate. Hopefully, the tribesmen still think that the cavalry is in here and that the outpost is heavily protected. That will keep them from coming in to get us until their numbers reach such strength that they feel they can overpower even Rome's most skilled soldiers. It should buy us a few days. I had a couple of my soldiers leave their uniforms for us to wear if we need them."

Lucius was stunned. "So... no one is here to protect you?"

Maximus grew slightly defensive. "No.. and I just told you why. "

Furious, Lucius sputtered his words. "Maximus, you¹re the hostage now!"

"Lower your voice," Maximus cautioned.

"And what about me?" Lucius continued. "You're risking my life too!"

The deepening afternoon shadows obscured the sudden flinch of pain on Maximus' face. "I should have made you leave also. I'm sorry. That was extremely selfish of me." His eyes dropped to the ground and a hesitancy -- a mere hint of vulnerability -- crept into Maximus' voice for the first time. "I guess I didn't want to be completely alone," he whispered, unable to look at his companion. "Lucius, there is still time for you to leave unmolested. You can catch up with your family."

"WellŠ maybe I¹ll just do that!" Lucius threatened but he didn¹t move.

"Go then. I'll stay here for a while. The warriors won't bother guarding the outpost too vigorously as long as they can see me and know I am not trying to escape. Take one of the uniforms and go over the south wall before the tribesmen have a chance to re-organize," Maximus urged. Lucius still didn't move so Maximus turned his back on the man, ending further conversation.

With that, Lucius fled the tower, stomping his frustration on every step as he descended and Maximus felt every footstep like a punch in his gut until they gradually receded and only the sound of the cold, whistling wind filled Maximus¹ ears. His eyes searched once again for the column of Romans heading south, but they were long lost from view. He reached inside his cuirass for the little leather draw-string pouch that he always carried and pulled out the two small carved figures. He turned them over and over in his hand then raised each one to his lips and kissed them. Then, he folded them inside his clasped hands, placed his elbows on the wall and rested his forehead on his knuckles, his eyes closed.

Hours later, and so thoroughly chilled that he could hardly move, Maximus made his way to the general¹s quarters. He was surprised to see embers still glowing in the hearth and stooped before them to thaw his fingers, too tired to think much more tonight.

"I wondered how long you were going to stay out there."

Maximus whirled and crouched all in one fluid motion, his sword in his hand as if by magic. Lucius lounged on his bed, his head propped up on his folded arms. After waiting until his heart stopped pounding, Maximus sheathed his sword and turned back to the fire, attempting to warm his feet this time. "I thought you¹d gone."

"I could have been a Chatti warrior hiding in this room. Then you¹d be dead."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

Lucius swung his legs off the bed and approached Maximus. "What kind of man would leave his friend when he¹s in trouble?"

Maximus just stared at the fire.

"NowŠ if you were Quintus I’d be long gone."

A slow smile spread over Maximus¹ face. "He¹s not so bad."

"MmmŠ we¹ll see." Lucius clasped Maximus¹ shoulder. "SoŠ commander of all the northern legionsŠ what¹s your plan?"

"To get some sleep." Maximus turned to face Lucius and warm his back.

"You¹re very casual about this," Lucius marveled.

"Not really, but I¹ve been in some pretty difficult situations before. So far, I¹ve managed to survive. The smartest thing we can do right now is get some rest so our brains and bodies are functioning at full capacity tomorrow."
"So, where are you going to sleep? I¹ve already got the bed."

"I¹ll sleep on the floor."

"Maximus," Lucius laughed, "I was just kidding. Of course the bed is yours."

"Lucius, I can sleep on anything, believe me. I¹ll be fine."

"But --""Just go to bed, will you?" Maximus softened his words with a smile.

Killing Cassius

Written by Hebe Blanco

I entered Cassius' tent unannounced to find him sitting at his large, ornate desk writing in his journal as I had told Maximus he'd be. He wrote quickly and efficiently as he did everything, be it running his legions, dealing with his correspondence or enjoying his bedsport. In those days in Moesia he spent hours writing in his tent and messengers departed from the camp several times a day, taking his letters and messages to those who backed him in his plot to seize the throne, be they in Rome or in other regions of the empire. Cassius appreciated speed and efficiency as much as he appreciated comfort and beauty and I always suspected that his preference for me was not only sustained by my beauty and pleasuring skills but also by the way in which I can easily take things like a household in my hands and run it efficiently. He used to say that I was unique, a rare jewel, the only woman he had ever known who could whore and deal with the annoying, petty things of daily life with the same assuredness and pleasurable results.

As Balbinus had told Maximus while impersonating the unfortunate Claudius, Cassius had gone out of the camp, having only returned shortly before dusk and went directly to his tent, where he had resumed his writing. Cassius felt safe in his tent, surrounded by his entourage and his appointed praetorians and when he caught movement out the corner of his eye, he simply glanced up at me then bent his head again to his task. Without looking up again he asked flatly, "What do you want?"

"I just want to see you. I miss you when you are working so hard," I said sweetly as I walked towards him, the semi-transparent gown I had donned following Maximus' brisk orders about wearing "something alluring" floating around me. It was made of sea-green silk and so flimsy that left no place for undergarments and also very little to imagination, except for the darker green sash wrapped around my waist. Maximus had gasped when he had seen me come out of my bedroom dressed in what seemed to be but a handful of sea foam and opened his mouth probably to voice a protest but had quickly refrained. Nevertheless, when we had left the slave quarters together he had insisted that I put on a cloak to cover my virtual nudity while I walked among the rows of tents. The gesture had been so fiercely yet so naively protective that had nearly made me laugh. The cloak lay now where I had discarded it, in Cassius' anteroom, the same place where Maximus hid waiting for his time to act, dressed in the black uniform of the praetorian who had the misfortune to be on shift at Cassius' tent. The man was tied and hidden inside a cupboard.

I sauntered over to the desk and trailed my fingers over Cassius' hand then along his arm and up to his shoulder where I used both hands to knead the tense muscles in his neck. After a few moments the speed of his writing decrease considerably then stop altogether as he closed his eyes and succumbed to my ministration.

"Ah, Julia," he sighed sounding happily relaxed. "You are the best that I ever bred."

That was it. His favorite line when it came to me. He seemed not to be done if he didn't say it, be it that I had dealt with his cooks or satisfied him in bed. Not that it mattered anymore. Cassius would not leave his tent alive and one way or the other my life was over. But it stung as always.

Nevertheless I managed to keep the rhythm of my fingers steady and even as Cassius went on talking.

"I have two of your little sisters, you know ... ready to follow in your footsteps. When we get to Rome I shall put you in charge of their training. They will make great gifts, I think, to men whose allegiance I need".

Cassius had mentioned time and again that I was to inherit Turia's place at the villa when we returned to Rome. And also had mentioned those two little girls, a group of them growing up in a separate section of the villa, each day that passed bringing them closer to their fate. When talking about them, Cassius always called them "your little sisters" but I never knew if he was talking about the sisterhood created by slavery and whoring or about my own flesh and blood. Had my poor, unknown mother born him not only me but other beautiful girls to warm his bed and those of his friends and supporters? Had she warmed it too? Every time a new girl was sent to the section of the villa occupied by the initiated whores I was afraid to discover that she had red golden hair, creamy skin and blue eyes. I was scared to death to discover the same features I saw every day when I checked my reflection at my polished mirrors in the face of a younger girl unfortunate enough to be my sister. But also this was over and that night we were all to be avenged: my mother, Eugenia's son, even Turia and of course myself.

Feeling the same detachment I had experienced since I had returned to the slaves' quarters from Maximus' tent, I went on working his muscles and said, "I'll do whatever pleases you, Sire," my voice as steady as my fingers. But I was keenly aware of the dagger concealed just under my tunic's sash, the dagger no one, not even Maximus knew I possessed. The dagger a twelve-year-old abused girl had taken from the house of an elderly senator, the dagger the woman she had become had always known she'd come to use. And that night there was no doubt about who'd be on the receiving end of the blade.

Cassius relaxed more and more, his chin dropping to his chest and I quietly moved my right hand to grasp the silver handle, slowly pulling it from it's hiding place ...

Marcellus rushed into the tent. The legate looked frantic and he startled me so violently that I almost dropped the dagger. Somehow I managed to keep my grip and also to hide it from Marcellus, using Cassius' body as a shield.

"Cassius!" he cried. "There is something wrong. Two of the men who were guarding Maximus ran away from the camp tonight ..." He stopped abruptly when he saw me standing behind his general. "Well, well... maybe here's someone who can tell us what's going on. Maximus, it seems, hasn't been seen yet today and I've heard that you were with him last night at his tent."

Cassius made a motion to turn towards me but I moved faster and buried the dagger up to the hilt into his jugular, causing a nauseating, ringing vibration that ran up the length of my arm and into my shoulder and neck. Blood spurted in a wide arch and soaked the documents beneath Cassius' hands and also smeared my hands and arms, the crimson drops stingy warm over my cold skin. Then, his head dropped to the desk with a loud thud.

Marcellus was too stunned to move, looking at me with his eyes wide open, his mouth slack. Then he mustered a word which could have been a praise, a curse or a cry for help but was lost as his head was whipped around and his neck snapped by the black-clad praetorian who materialized behind him. His bones broke with the same sound as a dry branch breaks. Maximus let the legate's body slide slowly to the floor, his blue eyes on mine as I remained behind Cassius' desk and calmly returned his stare.

We looked at each other for a moment. Then, with simple finality, I spoke.

"He's dead".

"I can see that," said Maximus as he stepped over Marcellus and slowly, warily moved towards me, ready to jump at me if I went mad. "That did not go exactly as planned," he added, never taking his eyes from mine.

I knew my actions had probably jeopardized his carefully devised plans but I had my own reasons and was ready to pay for them. Cassius was dead. Maximus was safe. And I was avenged. Nothing else mattered.

"I had to do it."

Maximus nodded. "I understand that. But now we have a problem. We have to make it look like Marcellus did it."

Understand?

What in Hades could he understand?

Slavery? He had been born the son of a humble Spaniard farmer yet he had known nothing but freedom. He had freely gone into the army instead of working the land as his father and grandfather and raised from its lower ranks to his high office, enjoyed citizenship, adoption in a senatorial family and the favor of his emperor.

Whoring?

He was a man and men rule the world. Without them, the ones like me would not exist. Men go to war on their own behalf or that of their rulers and enslave those who they don't slaughter. They are the ones who rape the wives, daughters and sisters of their defeated enemies or take them as concubines and sire their children on them, only to leave them behind on behalf of their orders and a new military post or because they fall in battle. They are the ones who force their attentions on the women they buy at the slave markets or entice half-starved girls into their beds with the promise of their gold. Or, like Cassius, have their private brothels for their personal use and that of their friends.

Loneliness?

He had a wife who loved him and a son to perpetuate his name and he was young enough to sire many others. He had the love of his emperor and the fierce loyalty of his men. He knew happiness -- simple, human happiness and had others to share it with him.

Killing?

Of course he had killed and he had done it many times, probably many more than I could imagine. But he killed faceless enemies, the enemies of his emperor, the enemies of Rome and all Rome stood for.

I, instead, had been born a slave, been forced to whoring, been all my life as alone as it is possible to be and had killed the man who had condemned me to slavery and whoring and loneliness ... and who, for all I knew, could have been my own father.

What could General Maximus Decimus Meridius understand?

I sighed.

"You can leave, Maximus. I will say that I saw Marcellus kill Cassius so I killed Marcellus".

Maximus looked at the legate's body lying slumped at his feet. "I don't think anybody will believe that you could break a man's neck, Julia" he said quietly, his voice soothing, as if he were afraid that something would snap inside me and I'd go crazy. I tried to voice an assurance, to tell him that I was fine but instead I swayed slightly. Maximus' face showed more than a little concern. "Julia, don't fail me now," he whispered hurriedly. "We have to finish this. Be strong."

Strong?

Had I ever been nothing but strong since I could remember?

I swallowed hard and nodded.

"Now, step over here being very careful to avoid the blood on the floor. Don't get any on your feet or tunic," said Maximus stretching his hand towards me.

I did as he asked, letting him take command and concentrating only on following his orders, not daring to look at the body sprawled over the desk, it's blood glazing the wood and soaking the patterned rug beneath. For a fleeting moment I thought how insulted Cassius' sense of order would have been if he'd seen his rug ruined beyond help. But it was too late for complaints, as Cassius himself was beyond help. I felt like giggling but forced myself to remain calm, not wanting to alarm Maximus who was talking to me again.

"Sit in this chair while I set up a murder scene," he said as he used his cloak to gently wipe the blood from my fingers and arms as he guided me to the seat on the other side of the room. Once I sat there, he plunged into action.

He hauled Marcellus' lifeless body to its feet then hoisted it over his shoulder, stepping carefully behind the desk. Then, he clasped the legate's limp hand and used it to pull the dagger from Cassius' neck, making sure that in the meantime Marcellus' fingers and arms got covered in blood. The dagger released with a gurgling sound as air rushed through the gaping wound. Somehow, this sound was worst than plunging the dagger on Cassius' living body had been. I gasped, bile rising into my mouth so violently that I thought I was going to be sick. Maximus glanced at me. I knew I must be pale as death, my body bathed in cold sweat, blood roaring in my ears. "Bend over and put your head between your knees and breath through your mouth," he instructed me. "Breath slowly and deeply. Don't faint on me now."

I obeyed spreading my knees and bowing my head till it came down between them, my waist long hair covering my face and pooling on the floor but I still managed to follow Maximus' movements, concentrating on him making it easier for me to breath deeply and slowly as he had told me to do.

Maximus dropped my dagger to the floor and used Marcellus' hand to pick up the letter opener from the desk and insert it into the opening vacated by my weapon. He then dropped Marcellus to the floor into the sticky pool of blood and shoved the body around a bit with his foot to make sure it's chest was smeared with it.

Maximus glanced quickly in my direction to see if I had fainted but although the nausea was not over yet I was feeling a little stronger, sitting upright again. My eyes were still on him but my mind had drifted away. I was thinking how easy, how ridiculously easy it had been to take Cassius' life. It had only taken a dagger and a simple movement of my hand ... and a lifetime of hate.

Maximus quickly stripped off the praetorian uniform to reveal his damp, rumpled red wine tunic underneath. He dragged the still-unconscious guard from the cupboard and he awkwardly pulled the uniform back on the man while he cursed under his breath. Then he used the guard's sword to slash a deep gash in Marcellus' neck. He paused for a moment before groaning in revulsion and whispering "At least you'll die a hero". With a swift, well practiced movement, he plunged the man's sword into his own belly then dropped the guard on top of Marcellus, the sword crushed between them. His hands were smeared in blood and red stains streaked his rumpled tunic. Maximus used it to carefully clean his hands, then stepped back and surveyed the scene, retrieved my dagger, wiped it and inserted it into his belt before grabbing a heavy cloak Cassius had left on a chair and wrapping it around his own body.

He then crouched before me and took my cold hands into his own. "Julia, listen to me," he said quietly. "I have to go and wash this blood off and change into a clean tunic. Wait until I return before sounding the alarm, but if somebody comes in the meantime you must pretend that you just stumbled upon the murder scene and fainted before reviving enough to pull yourself into the chair. Don't explain anything to anyone, do you understand me?"

I felt that some color had returned to my cheeks and his strong, callused hands had warmed mine a little. Not trusting my voice, I nodded and I kept my eyes on Maximus as he stood and headed for the entrance of the tent, then disappeared into the night leaving me alone with three dead men.

I remained sitting for a long time, simply watching, my eyes fixed on Cassius, my hands primly folded. The silence inside the tent was eerie, the flickering oil lamps creating a crazed dance of shadows on the canvas walls. Then, I smiled. But my smile was not the fake, sweet one I had learned to plaster on my face since childhood. It was not the genuine, playful, loving smile I had given Maximus at Cassius' last, fateful party. It was hard and cold and cruel and I didn't need a mirror to know it was also terrifying. Briefly I thought that goddess Diana must smile this way when, after turning them into deer, she takes down with her silver arrows those men bold enough to dare want her despite her divine virginity.

And then, I talked. My voice was so firm and calm and my mind so lucid that I knew I was mad.

"You know, Cassius?" I said conversationally. "You were right: I am the best you ever bred. Pity you never understood what you were talking about".

I stood up and slowly turned around to survey the scene and make myself sure that everything was in order. Maximus had expected me to be hysterical and been surprised when I was not. He had also instructed me to raise the alarm about the murders, thus giving him his clue to snap into action. It was time for both.

I breathed deeply, opened my mouth and screamed.

General Maximus

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