Maximus' Story

Chapter 96 – Trust

Knock, knock, knock.

Maximus grumbled and rolled to his side, his hip and shoulder abused and bruised by the unyielding floor. He pulled his cape around him attempting to shut out the chill, and buried his face in his wolf furs trying to muffle the aggravating noise.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Lucius, will you stop that?" Maximus grouched as he lifted his head and peered in the direction of the bed.

"Huh wha?" Lucius snuffled, his brain numb with sleep. "Stop what?"

Knock, knock, knock.

"That."

Lucius sat bolt upright, the little hair he had standing on end. "That wasn't me," he choked.

Maximus was on his feet in an instant. "Shhh." He extended his arm with his palm down, gesturing for Lucius not to move. That was fine with Lucius who pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them tight. Slowly and stealthily , Maximus crept around the dark room, sword in hand listening. When he reached the door he silently turned the knob then violently yanked it open, ready to confront the unknown intruder. The doorway was empty. He stretched his neck and looked around. No one was there.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Maximus!" Lucius hissed. "It's coming from there." He pointed to a large, ornate wooden wardrobe against the far stone wall in the general's quarters.

With a curious frown, Maximus approached the wardrobe and ran his hands over its front and sides. It seemed solid and he felt no vibration or movement. He held his breath and cautiously opened the door -- his sword poised to strike. It was empty inside.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Maximus pressed his hands against the back of the wardrobe which also seemed firm, then he rapped on the solid wood three times. He got the expected response. "Lucius, light a lantern will you? I can barely see." Maximus explored the edges of the back panel, pressing with his fingers, and finally got it to shift a little. Then, miraculously, it slid sideways with a grinding groan and his nostrils were assaulted with a damp, musty smell.

"Well, it's about time!" Freyda stepped out of the darkness behind the wardrobe, a small lantern swinging in her hand, and faced the two confounded men.

Maximus immediately pushed her aside and confronted the yawning cavity, balancing on the balls of his feet, his sword at the ready.

Freyda regarded him from behind with some amusement. "I'm alone," she assured him.

"Why should I believe that?" asked Maximus, remaining in combat position.

"I'm here to help you," she explained.

"Why would you do that?" Maximus responded with suspicion but the lack of further intruders allowed him to relax enough to turn his head and look at her.

She shrugged casually. "I feel I owe it to you."

"You owe me nothing. What you owe your own people, you will never be able to repay." Maximus finally sheathed his sword and directly faced the Chatti woman then jerked his head towards the black opening. "Where does that go?"

"It branches in two directions. One passage goes south into the woods and the other goes northeast."

"And how do you know about it?"

"The one that goes north ends at the cabin I told you about."

"And that's how General Pollienus met with you."

"Yes," she said without a trace of embarrassment. "It originally just had the southern passage so soldiers could escape the outpost if they had to. The general had the other branch constructed for his own purposes." Blue eyes bore into blue-green, but Freyda held Maximus' gaze boldly and did not avert her eyes.

"How do I know you are not leading us into an ambush?" he asked, his doubt still evident.

"You don't. You'll have to trust me. Besides, you don't have too many other choices and you don't have a lot of time -- so your cavalry will have to stay here and fend for themselves."

Maximus silenced Lucius with a look.

Freyda continued in her frank manner, "The chieftains intend to execute you then launch an organized attack on a dozen or so Roman border communities. I overheard a meeting between my father and other tribal leaders who have already arrived."

Lucius blanched, his face twisted with horror.

"How much time do I have?" Maximus asked as calmly as if he were discussing the weather.

"Maybe another day, at most. The warriors are still arriving and the chieftains will all want a say in how to torture you before they kill you."

If Freyda was hoping to unnerve Maximus she did not get the desired response. He sauntered close to her, folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head as he considered her. "Why are you telling me this? What is in this for you, exactly?"

She raised her chin, slightly stung that he would question her motivation, then contradicted her wounded demeanor with the words, "I'm going with you. I want to go to Rome."

"I'm not going to Rome."

"Then you can get me into Roman territory. I'll take care of myself from there. I'm very enterprising and independent."

Maximus couldn't suppress a wry smile. "I had noticed that." He appraised the forthright young woman before him, her honey-colored hair plaited in a single long braid down her back, multiple strands of colorful clay beads around her neck and men's clothing on her body. She was dressed in layers of brown wool tunics and trousers secured with leather thongs. Maximus glanced into the gloomy passage again. "Well I guess we have no choice, but I'll warn you, Freyda -- if this is a trap I'll slit your pretty throat before your people take me."

The passageway was very narrow and barely contained the width of Maximus' broad shoulders in some places, as he followed Freyda through the cold, damp tunnel. It also varied dramatically in height and the general slammed his head against the low rock ceiling more than once prompting him to utter a string of oaths. Lucius was behind him hanging onto his cape for guidance because Maximus blocked all light from the lantern in Freyda's hand. The frigid tunnel floor concealed patches of black ice and three times Lucius slipped and went down heavily, almost knocking Maximus off his feet too. It was obvious that Freyda was very familiar with her surroundings, though, as she pranced ahead without hesitation, urging the men to hurry up.

After what seemed like ages, they finally reached a solid wooden door. Maximus pushed past Freyda and put his shoulder to the wood which groaned in protest as it opened slowly. When Maximus felt cold, fresh air bathe his face, he grabbed the young woman's arm and swung her in front of him, his sword at her throat, then pushed through the bushes that disguised the opening. The only sound in the shadowy forest was their own heavy breathing. The lightly falling snow revealed no footprints as it sparkled under their lamplight.

"See," said Freyda petulantly. "I told you that you could trust me." She yanked her arm out of his grasp and rubbed it where his fingers had gripped her.

Maximus remained tense and wary. "Where are we?"

Freyda jerked her head. "The outpost is that way, just beyond the trees."

"Where's the road from here?" Maximus asked, trying to get his bearings.

"That way," she pointed into the darkness. "Not far."

"All right. You two head to the road. Don't wait for me."

Lucius was startled. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not leaving without my horse."

The smaller man's eye's widened in utter disbelief. "Are you completely mad? Did Marcus Aurelius appoint a lunatic as a general?"

"That would be pretty stupid, General," added Freyda bluntly. "Get away while you can." Lucius and Freyda stood shoulder-to-shoulder, creating a united opposition to the general's unreasonable plan.

"I must--," Maximus started but he was abruptly interrupted by Lucius.

"I can just hear your epitaph now. 'He died trying to save his horse.'"

Maximus was not in the mood for any more challenges to his decisions. "When you meet Roman soldiers headed this way tell them where I am. Now go." His tone did not invite further comments.

Freyda grabbed Lucius' arm and, with great reluctance, they headed towards the road, quite convinced that Maximus would be dead within hours -- all for the sake of a horse. Lucius looked back to find Maximus intently watching them.

"Strength and honor," the general said calmly.

Lucius just nodded and continued on his way, pushing the crackling, snow-covered branches aside. The next time he looked back through the trees, Maximus was gone.

Aftermath and Maximus' Second Denial

Written by Hebe Blanco

My screams spiraled like a flock of bats unleashed by the sudden opening of Hades' gates. Time and again, my voice has been described as husky -- a low, throaty voice highly unusual for a woman and had been as praised as my beauty by those who didn't find it unsettling for the same reasons. I was trained since childhood to use my voice as another weapon of seduction, keeping it low, using its rich, dark tones to infuse my words with a heated promise of unspeakable pleasure. Turia found my voice unsettling and complained to Cassius that my only flaw was my inability to sing. But Cassius dismissed her complaints saying that he preferred a woman who could groan during coupling as huskily and as beautifully as I did than all the perfectly trained singers of the empire. Turia and Cassius, one time lovers who had held my life in their hands for so long and now both dead.

I can't remember having screamed in all my life apart from the night at the elderly senator's house when I screamed in vain for help, for somebody to save me from the man who pinioned my twelve-year-old body under his. My screams had led me only to being viciously slapped, a lesson learned in the hardest way for the man enjoyed my resistance and was waiting for it, rape more pleasurable than simple taking. The senator's slaps had sobered me and the abused girl who had left the house carrying a stolen silver dagger hidden under the clothes of an expensive doll had never screamed again for there was no help to be called. Not until that night, when the same dagger had finally put an end both to submission and what little remained of my innocence.

I don't know how long I screamed but suddenly a group of praetorians and officers burst into the tent only to stop dead at the bloody scene. They looked at each other, shocked and disoriented, completely at loss. Martius, a young tribune, recovered quicker than the others and turned around to face me. I had retreated to the far end of the tent, anxious to put distance between the men -- both dead and alive -- and me, my hands pressed against my mouth. He came to me and hauled me by my arm.

"What happened?" he yelled, his eyes wild. He was one of Cassius' most trusted men and he knew what his and Marcellus' death meant: he had supported a man who had tried to seize the throne and now that man was dead. He was in deep trouble. When I failed to answer, he shook me hard but I only looked at him with eyes I knew must be wide and terrified. "Stupid bitch!" he roared. "Tell me what happened! Was there anybody here? Answer me!" With the same detachment I had felt when I had nearly slit my wrists, I saw Martius raise his hand. He was going to backhand me. I braced myself against the blow...

"What's happening here?"

Maximus' booming voice startled Martius, freezing him in mid-movement. He entered the tent fully armed and wearing his brass cuirass, followed by his two fake guards, his rank and commanding attitude reducing Cassius' officers to silence. Martius let his hand fall even if he didn't release me.

All eyes focused on Maximus, the silence so absolute that it was unsettling. Then, one of the centurions cleared his throat. "We ... we came when we heard the woman's screams and we found the ... we found General Cassius and Marcellus dead, sir ..."

Maximus walked to the corpses and intently looked at them. "Bring in the surgeons!" he ordered one of the praetorians. Then he turned to his own guards. "Take General Cassius' body and place him on his bed ... his actions towards the emperor may be questionable but he was a good soldier and deserves respect". While the guards obeyed, Maximus walked towards me. I was still pressing my hands against my mouth and had started to tremble. "Tribune, release her," he ordered Martius.

"General, she was here when we arrived!" he said, painfully digging his fingers into my forearm. "We have to interrogate her! She must have seen something .... For all we know, she could have murdered Cassius herself!"

Maximus turned an icy glance to the tribune. "Of course she may have seen something and I will interrogate her," he said in a voice as cold as his eyes. Martius opened his mouth again but Maximus'guards' hands went to their swords and the flap of the tent opened again to admit two of the legion's surgeons, a man I later knew was Gallienus and a dozen cavalry men. " .... not that I think it'd be useful," continued Maximus still looking hard into Martius' eyes, "She's nothing but an hysterical woman. As for your commentary about her being the murderer of three trained soldiers ... I'll pretend I didn't hear you. Now, release her as you were ordered ... and in the future, tribune, I expect to be obeyed without delay or questioning."

Martius exchanged a desperate glance with the other officers but no one reacted or backed him, all of them more concerned about their immediate future. The tribune did as ordered and I staggered, nearly falling. No one stretched a hand to steady me. Not the officers who where exchanging concerned looks. Not the surgeons who were examining Cassius' body. Not Maximus, whose attention was fixed on the other corpses.

He crouched beside them and separated the bodies with his own hands, completely disregarding the blood that smeared his hands and boots. Gallienus moved beside him but did not crouch. Instead, he remained standing, his hand on his sword, ready to snap into action if one of Cassius' men tried to move towards his general. They didn't. They knew perfectly well that their actions had damaged their careers beyond hope and probably put their lives in danger and didn't want to worsen their situation.

"So, this is it," said Maximus emphatically after turning the praetorian's body on his back. "Marcellus attacked Cassius while he was distracted writing but this brave guard must have heard something and tried to save his general. They struggled and he managed to wound Marcellus but was wounded too."

He raised his head and looked into the eyes of the expectant men, daring them to contradict him. No one uttered a word. He stood up, and taking a piece of cloth one of the surgeons offered him, carefully cleaned his hands, his eyes never leaving the officers.

"Gallienus."

The master of the horse snapped to action. "General?"

"As the highest ranking officer not only in this camp but in the whole Northern frontier, I'm taking command of this legion."

Some of the officers gasped. Maximus continued as if he hadn't heard them.

"I do it in the name of the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius, and with the authority he gave me to act in his name. I want the guards at the gates and on the walls immediately replaced by your men."

Cassius' officers exchanged quick, frantic glances.

"Yes, sir!" answered Gallienus.

"I also want all military documents and letters in this tent and those of all the officers in this camp requisitioned, sealed in a coffer and delivered to mine. I want two of your men guarding it night and day."

Gallienus nodded and two officers rushed out. Maximus went ahead.

"Serious crimes against Rome and the emperor were committed in this place. Until I can establish what exactly happened here and who is involved, the gates are closed: no one comes in and no one gets out. I also want the stables' and the armory's guards doubled."

"Yes, sir!"

Maximus' eyes never left the faces of Cassius' officers. "The emperor is on his way here and he will decide what it is to be done. In the meantime, all officers present here or not, will remain under arrest. I suggest, gentlemen, that you don't worsen your situation by resisting."

The officers looked pale and bewildered.

"I also want the quaestors and praetors of the legion under arrest and the books confiscated. This will be all for the moment. Gallienus, you have your orders."

"Yes, sir!" Gallienus nodded again and his men rounded the officers.

"What about the whore?" snapped Martius. All glances turned to me and I cowered but not before seeing the thunderous look in Maximus' eyes as he glanced the tribune. Then he looked at me and for a brief, fleeting moment, I saw the conflicting, changing emotions dancing in his piercing blue eyes. I saw bitter anger and concern, guilt and sorrow, blazing fury and tenderness. The burning intensity of his gaze sent shivers down my spine for his was the tormented gaze of a man dealing not only with dangerous circumstances but also with his own demons. And then, it was over. He mastered his feelings once more and was all general again. Flaming anger turned into icy determination, all caring and tenderness erased from his eyes. He was all general again and I was no more the woman who had raised his concern and sorrow and tenderness but a pawn in a dangerous scheme, his ultimate goal to accomplish his mission and fulfill his duty to his emperor. I was no more the woman who had raised his passion so badly that he had nearly betrayed his wife. I was even no more Julia but simply "the whore".

The whore.

I was standing dressed only in a translucent tunic in a room full of Roman officers, a room full of men who at sometime had enjoyed me in bed, Maximus the only one who had not sullied himself. Maximus, the only one I had wanted. Maximus seeing me for what I really was.

I knew that everything -- even our lives -- depended of the charade we were playing and my part in it. I was more than ready to go ahead no matter how painful it was and would have gone ahead, would have endured everything, even Martius' blows, if not for the last, brief, fleeting emotion I saw in his dazzling, blue eyes before he took them from me. For it was the most terrible emotion any person can see in the eyes of another, especially a woman in the eyes of the man she's fallen in love with. And it was far worse than hate, for it was pity.

Silently, I pleaded with him ... I pleaded that he did not judge me. That he did not despise me. But most of all I pleaded that he did not pity me.

"Gallienus?"

"Yes, sir?"

"This woman is under my personal protection. Have her placed in a tent near mine and post guards at the entrance. No one is to talk with her until I allow it. Not even the other women. I will interrogate her later."

"Yes, sir!"

Maximus lowered his voice but not enough for me not to hear his next words.

"And look for something to cover her before she's taken out. I don't want her putting on a spectacle for the soldiers."

Something snapped inside me.

Big, gulping, dry sobs erupted from my throat, my hands pressed to my mouth unable to muffle them, my eyes fixed on Maximus. He rushed to me, grabbed me by my shoulders and forced me to sit down. "Don't be afraid. Nobody's going to hurt you," he said softly, a warning look in his eyes. But I was beyond warning. Trembling uncontrollably, I reached for him babbling words that even I couldn't understand.

Maximus gestured to Gallienus to take Cassius' officers out of the tent, their arrest interrupted by my emotional outburst. Then, he turned to me again. "You're safe," he said. Warning was replaced in his eyes by alarm and only then I noticed the wild, screaming sounds I was making. I felt like my heart was going to burst, the pain in my chest so bad that I couldn't breath. I pushed Maximus and tried to stand up. I wanted to run away, to hide myself in a far, dark corner, curl into a ball and die.

"Surgeon!"

The man rushed to our side and helped Maximus force me to sit down again while I blindly struggled against both of them.

"I need to interrogate her but she's beyond herself. Can you do something?"

The surgeon looked at me dubiously. "She's but a girl, general," he said. "She's had a nasty shock."

"I know she's badly shocked," said Maximus with a touch of impatience in his voice, his eyes never leaving me. "I can interrogate her later but if she shatters she won't be a reliable witness ... Can you give her something to sooth her?"

"I can give her some opium," said the man. "It will put her to sleep and--"

"Do it."

The surgeon hesitated, then called for his assistant and gave his orders. "Are you sure you want her put down, General?" he asked Maximus. "She'll feel poorly when she awakens. You must know she'll be less than coherent."

Maximus nodded. "I'm a lot more worried about her damaging herself." The assistant had returned with a cup of something that looked like milk and gave it to the surgeon. "Please, General, move aside and let my assistant hold her while I make her drink this," he indicated. A strange smell drifted from the cup to my nostrils and I struggled even harder against the two men.

"I'll hold her myself," said Maximus. The surgeon looked at him quizzically and Maximus added, "She's badly scared. I don't want her to go through more manhandling and harassment."

The surgeon looked at me, then again at Maximus and nodded, gesturing his assistant away. He raised the cup to my lips and I averted my face only to find Maximus' very close to mine. I looked into his eyes and felt my heart swell painfully, for they were blazing with a fiercely protective gaze. This did it. I stopped struggling and sagged against him. Tentatively, Maximus eased his hold and I rested my head on his shoulder. The surgeon looked at us for a moment, then brought the cup to my lips. I closed my eyes and drank.

I was immersed in darkness, a hot, throbbing darkness that seemed to have engulfed both me and the surrounding world. I heard some muffled sounds but couldn't distinguish them. The darkness was so deep that it was suffocating. I tried to move but my body seemed to have drifted away from my mind. Little by little, the darkness was replaced by a blazing crimson, the colour so intense that it hurt my eyes even if they were closed. Again I heard the muffled, anguished sounds and then I realized I was moaning. Darkness receded but the throbbing remained, only now it was inside my head and not around me. Panting, I struggled against my body's decision to surface but I lost.

When I finally could open my eyes, it was to find Rufa looking at me. Vaguely I noticed that her round, big eyes didn't show the scared look that was usual in her but the curious look of a child intrigued by something mysterious and fascinating. My pounding headache was only surpassed by an agonizing thirst. I tried to speak, to ask her for some water but my parched lips refused to articulate any word. I was so dazzled, so confused, so weak!

"Mistress Julia?"

Her voice drummed in my fogged brain. I winced and tried again to speak but couldn't. I saw a jug on the table near the couch and vaguely gestured to her to give me some water but the girl didn't pay attention.

"I have to call," she said in her hesitating, guttural Latin. "General said when you awoke I was to call". This said, Rufa rushed out, leaving me alone with my pounding head and sore, parched throat.

Slowly, painfully I raised my head and looked around. I was in a tent which seemed vaguely familiar yet I couldn't remember how I had arrived to it. I was lying on a couch, covered with a light blanket and somebody -- probably the surgeon --had loosened my tunic by taking off the sash. My head reeled and I let it fall down, closing my eyes.

I first heard footsteps, then movement close to me. I opened my eyes to see Rufa had returned followed by Maximus. "Leave us," he said softly to the girl and when she had gone, he took a stool and sat down by my side.

"Julia?" he asked. "How do you feel?"

I swallowed hard, then sighed my head pounding relentlessly.

"Julia?"

Weakly, I tried to smile, then gestured to indicate that I wanted some water and Maximus poured some in cup while I struggled to sit up right. He put the cup in my hands and closed my fingers around it, his eyes darkened with concern. I brought the cup to my lips but my hands trembled so badly that I couldn't drink and instead poured some water over myself, soaking the front of my tunic and plastering the translucent sea green silk over my breasts. Disgusted with myself, I couldn't avoid a sob.

Swearing softly, Maximus sat on the couch and gathered me into his arms, bringing the cup to my lips and holding it as I drank greedily. When it was empty, I rested my head on his shoulder and murmured "Thanks ..." before my mind drifted again. Maximus laid me on the couch and returned to the stool where he remained silently looking at me until I could gather enough strength to open my eyes again.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"Things are under control but we are under permanent alert and will be till the emperor arrives," he said. "The main problem is that I have very few men here and I don't know how long will it take the emperor to arrive. I have all the officers under arrest but I still have to determine if there are other traitors among the men. The danger is not over."

I nodded and he went on talking.

"Julia, I'm sorry about the drug but I had to do it. I know you've been through much but I couldn't risk you saying something that could compromise my plans, do you understand?"

I sighed and nodded again, not sure if I could master my own voice.

"You have been very brave and I couldn't have accomplished my mission without your help, Julia. Buy I need you to be strong and help me some more." He looked into my eyes as if to asses if I was following him. "You are in Marcellus' tent. It's in the praetorium and close to mine. There are two guards outside and they have been ordered not to allow anybody to get in or talk to you but me. I'm supposed to interrogate you and then keep you under my protection till the emperor arrives and decides what will be done."

My eyes must have shown alarm for he smiled wanly and added, "You have nothing to worry about. When Marcus Aurelius arrives, I'll talk to him privately and everything will be settled. Cassius died as a traitor so according to the law his estates and possessions are to be confiscated by the emperor. But Marcus Aurelius is a compassionate man and will set you and the other women free." He moved his hand as if to brush my hair off my face but restrained and, after a brief hesitation, went on talking. "I need you to remain here, under custody, till the emperor comes with reinforcements. It's going to be hard for you, Julia, for you will be isolated but it's necessary. I will release you as soon as possible. It's for your own safety as well as my men's... and mine."

I managed a wan smile and nodded again.

"You need to rest, Julia, and I have a lot of things to take care of," he said softly. "I'll leave you now. Sleep. You'll feel better in the morning. I'll send your maid in and if you need anything, send her to me." He looked at my disheveled state and added, "I'll have your maid bring you some clothes."

Then, he stood up and briskly walked towards the entrance.

Somehow I found the strength to call him. "Maximus!"

He stopped but didn't turn around.

"Maximus, would you do something for me?"

He slowly turned on his heels and looked at me warily, not moving from his place near the entrance, waiting for me to talk and probably fearing what I was going to say.

"Would you hold me, please?" I said in the little voice of the scared girl who still lived inside the grown up woman and the seasoned whore. "Would you hold me really tight?"

He opened his mouth to voice a protest or a denial but refrained. Then, he smiled wanly and came back to me, sitting again on the couch by my side and trying to gather me in his arms. But he was wearing his cuirass and I refused to lean against its cold hardness for what I was asking for was the warm strength of his body.

Our gazes locked, mine pleading, his confused.

"Please..." I murmured.

Swearing beneath his breath, Maximus stood up again and fumbled with the buckles of his cuirass. It was not an easy task to accomplish without help and I saw him impatiently struggle with them until he finally could get it off, dumping it on the floor where it landed with a muffled sound.

He sat back again on the couch but before he could take me in his arms I crawled from under the blanket and onto his lap, my breasts nearly spilling from my loosened tunic, which bunched up my thighs. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I buried my face in his neck. I felt him stiffen, I knew it was more than he had bargained for ... and I knew that if he pushed me away I was going to die of loneliness and heartbreak.

But little by little Maximus relaxed and his strong arms came around me. Whimpering, I snuggled closer to him, breathing his musky, male scent, his body heat enveloping me like a warm cloak. I closed my eyes and sighed in abandon when I felt his fingers first arranging my tunic and covering my bare legs, then caressing my hair.

I don't know how long I remained like this, lulled by his warmth and strength.

But suddenly I was not simply snuggling against him. My hands roamed up and down his broad back, tracing the well defined muscles under the light wool of the wine-red tunic. I kissed his neck, the stubble of his beard erotically rasping my lips while I pressed my breasts against him, desperate to feel his body against mine.

I heard him gasp and uncomfortably shift under my thighs, trying to avoid the contact between our most intimate flesh. I was naked under the foamy silk tunic, naked in his arms and my skin felt feverish as it had never felt before. I wanted to straddle him, to wrap myself around him, to take him inside me as deeply as I could. My lips and tongue caressed his neck, then his throat and my hands came down his back, searching for his firm, rounded buttocks. I was drunk in his heat and strength and scent. I felt alive, desperately, painfully alive. I burned with the primal need to couple, to have him claim me as males have claimed their mates since the dawn of time and spill his seed inside me in a white hot rush. I moaned, bunching his tunic in my hands ...

Maximus' whole body became rigid, his hands painfully gripping my arms, his tense muscles creating a cold, forbidding distance between us even if our bodies were hot and touching. I tensed myself and we remained like this for a long moment, like two statues frozen in a lifeless parody of loving intimacy.

Then, I sagged against him in defeat. I rested my forehead on his shoulder, silently begging him to let me remain in his arms. Slowly, very slowly he relaxed again and I sighed, ready to submit to what little he'd give me rather than to loose his warmth.

Maximus sighed too, a long, tired sigh. Then, I felt his fingers caress my hair again and my tears silently started to flow.

"Maximus?" I asked. Again my voice sounded like that of the scared little girl who had grown up in Cassius' villa, the scared little girl who had neither known her mother nor had a doll, the scared little girl who had grown up to become a beautiful, lonely, sad whore.

"Yes, Julia?" he asked in his deep, rumbling voice.

"Will you teach me, Maximus?"

"Teach you what, Julia?" He sounded puzzled.

"How to swim," I felt so tired, so desperately tired. Somehow I managed to go on talking. "You know, Maximus? I'm scared of water. I'm scared of drowning." Absently, my fingers tugged at his tunic. "I don't like being scared, Maximus. I don't want to be scared anymore... Will you teach me how to swim?"

"Yes, Julia. I will teach you how to swim," he said softly and I felt his light, tender kiss on the top of my head, filling me with sweetness despite sadness and exhaustion and defeat. I struggled to raise my head, I needed to look into his beautiful blue eyes once more ... but my head seemed to weigh too much. I fell asleep.

One of the few, small mercies the gods have blessed me with is the fact that, when I sleep, I usually don't dream. That is good because it means that I don't have nightmares. For if I'd have them, they'd be so terrifying that I'd have happily submitted to drowning a long time ago.

But that night, asleep in Maximus' arms, I dreamed. In my dream I was not the frightened Julia who had begged him not to leave her alone but a proud, strong woman. I was older and I wore not a translucent silk tunic but a light wool, decent stolla. I was sitting on a wooden bench, in the garden of a country estate like I had never seen before for it was not a lavish villa like Cassius' but a simple and comfortable provincial house. My hair was coiled as it befitted a respectable and free woman and I looked around in wonder at the wild beauty of the garden and the surrounding hills. But my attention was dragged to what was happening inside my body, for my breasts felt heavy and full and a sweet, nice warmth radiated from my middle. I turned my eyes down to see my rounded belly, swollen and distended as Eugenia's had been years before. My hands caressed it lovingly and then I pressed it as she had taught me to do and I felt the baby inside it gently roll and kick in answer. I hugged myself but I didn't do it in loneliness and desperation as I used to do but in loving, sweet contentment.

Then, the scene changed as they only change in dreams. I was in the same garden, not sitting on the bench but standing beside the road, my body slender again, my arms cradling a baby girl. She was so small yet so beautifully perfect, her creamy skin identical to mine. But she had not my red-gold hair for hers was soft and black like her father's. The baby yawned with the wild abandon only babies can master and brought her small fists to her perfect, rosebud mouth. Then, she opened her eyes and looked at me and her eyes were blue, not dark blue like mine but the greenish, sparkling, unique blue of the man who had sired her.

I raised my eyes from the living wonder that was my daughter and I saw him. He was coming to me, walking up the road with his easy, self-assured stride, his broad shoulders proudly erect, covered with his cape and the silvery wolf furs that proclaimed his high office. He was wearing his battle-worn muscled cuirass and his sword dangled at his side, a seasoned warrior coming back home, coming back to his woman and the daughter she had given him.

Maximus stopped only two or three steps from me and I raised my arms, offering him the little, fragile treasure we had created between us and I saw his big, strong, sword-callused hands tenderly take her and claim her as his. He smiled at me, his beautiful, boyish, sweet smile and I smiled back and we embraced, gently cradling our daughter between us. I rested my head on his shoulder and he wrapped one of his arms around me, lovingly pressing me against his strong, warm body. And during this wonderful, unique moment, the three of us were one, as one we had been in the wonderful, unique moment when we had conceived our daughter. And I, Julia, the slave and the whore, came to know what it was to feel truly loved and happy and complete.

I was drowning but this time it was sweet and beautiful, for I was drowning not in tears and sorrow but in love and happiness. I moaned and tried to hug Maximus closer to me... but my arm caught nothing but emptiness. The dream started to vanish. Terrified, I struggled against consciousness, against loneliness, against reality...

I lost.

Slowly, painfully I opened my eyes. I was not in a country garden but in Marcellus' tent. There was no baby, no warmth, no love, no happiness... no Maximus. I was alone, utterly alone as he had left me while I slept.

I closed my eyes to avoid the pink rays of dawn, buried my face in the cushion he had put under my head and for the last time in my life, I wept.

Chapter 97- Scarto

Maximus stepped through the door then looked back, loudly and firmly commanding his non-existent soldiers to remain inside where it was warm. His voice bounced around a dozen empty rooms and returned to him, a weak and hollow imitation of the original. He pulled the door shut making sure that it did not latch, then strode purposefully toward the stable, acutely aware of his isolation in this deserted outpost. Dressed only in layered tunics, trousers and boots, Maximus kept his eyes straight ahead despite his almost overwhelming desire to taunt the few Germanian warriors atop the wall that surrounded the outpost compound. They responded to his resoluteness by elbowing each other in the ribs and pointing to the captive general, quite secure in the knowledge that he couldn't go anywhere until they were ready to go in and get him. To them, Maximus was like a wild wolf in a cage: dangerous and magnificent but captured and helpless nonetheless. He was totally at their mercy and they had none.

Inside the peaceful stable Maximus breathed in the familiar and comforting horse smell. Particles of dust floated in the winter sunshine that penetrated a high window and cast a warm glow on the bales of golden straw piled against the walls. Three sleepy horses raised their heads curiously as Maximus passed but he headed directly to the stall of his magnificent black stallion who tossed his head and nickered in greeting. Maximus leaned over the stall door and rubbed Scarto's nose fondly as he inspected the healing gash on his head. The horse responded by nuzzling the general's chest with equal affection. Maximus spoke in the gentle sing-song voice that humans reserve for animals and young children. "You look well-rested this morning, boy. I'll bet you're hungry, though. When was the last time you were fed?"

"I fed him this morning, Sir."

Maximus leaped back in shock, his foot tangling in a loose harness that sent him crashing backwards to the wooden floor. He rolled and was on his feet in an instant, ready to confront... a boy. The general scowled at the youngster as he brushed the straw from his wool tunic. "What are you doing here?" The boy cringed and Maximus realized that his tone was harsher than he had intended.

"I... I'm taking care of the horses... Sir." The fair-haired boy was dressed in the simple tunic of a Roman soldier and he tried to stand at attention but he was trembling too hard to successfully maintain that position.

Maximus glanced at the three brown horses that shared the stable with his black stallion. They had obviously been well cared for. He rested his elbow atop the stall door and smiled paternally at the boy who looked to be no more than twelve. "Do you know who I am?" he asked gently.

The boy was confused by Maximus' plain attire, but he guessed, "An officer, Sir?"

"I'm General Maximus." The boy's eyes widened. "The outpost was evacuated, son. Why didn't you leave with the others?"

"Someone needed to take care of the horses, General. I didn't want them to starve -- especially that one," he said looking at Maximus' horse who tossed his head, reveling in the attention. "What's his name?"

"Scarto."

The boy gazed at the stallion almost reverently. "He's the most beautiful horse I've ever seen."

Maximus nodded in agreement but he was curious about this youngster. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead. They died a long time ago. I'm a soldier now."

Maximus rubbed his stallion's forehead and the animal nuzzled the general's chest then grabbed his tunic between his flat front teeth, tugging playfully. Maximus smiled and stroked the horse's muscular neck. He looked at the boy who was gazing at him shyly. "What's your name?"

"Asellio, Sir."

"Well, Asellio, I appreciate your feeding my horse. He's very important to me."

"He's smart."

"He is indeed. In battle he seems to sense exactly what I need him to do and he's never disappointed me. I can't let him down, either." He caressed the stallions' velvet nose with the back of his fingers. "Asellio, we're in a difficult situation here and I need you to help me." The boy snapped to attention and nodded vigorously. "Put lots of hay and water in the stalls of the three brown horses." He smiled reassuringly at the boy. "The two of us and Scarto are getting out of here."

"We are?" Asellio looked uncertainly at the brown stallions. "What about them?"

"Don't worry, the Germanians will treat them well. They don't have fine horses like these."

Obviously accustomed to following orders, the youngster nodded and got to work without another word. He stole glances at Maximus who softly whistled a melody as he went about his task. The boy had never seen a general like this one. He was stronger and more commanding than any he had ever seen but there was a kindness in his eyes and a gentleness in the way he handled the animals. Maximus bridled Scarto then he bridled the other three horses, saddling only one.

"Do you know how to ride, son?" asked Maximus as he tightened the cinch on the brown stallion.

"Yes, Sir!" replied Asellio, proud to be able to answer in the affirmative.

"Good. We're going to start by exercising the horses in the compound. Now, you must listen carefully...." Maximus continued to give the wide-eyed youngster quiet instructions as they headed out into the pale winter sunshine.

Maximus walked Scarto around the compound to work out any stiffness from standing so long in the chilly stall. He held the reins of a second horse loosely in his other hand. Asellio walked close beside him handling the remaining two animals. The Germanians on the roof watched them intently but Maximus knew that the guards would eventually grow bored and become distracted.

Maximus boosted Asellio onto the back of the saddled horse then moved Scarto right beside him before he threw himself, stomach down, across the horse's broad back then tossed one leg over the stallion and hoisted himself upright. Scarto fidgeted a bit, unaccustomed to being ridden bareback. Both the man and the boy led the other stallions by the reins. They started at a walk, then progressed to a trot, going round and round the compact outpost grounds in large, repetitious circles. To the warriors on the wall, Maximus appeared to be engrossed in his activities, but he was observing them carefully, waiting for the time to act. It came sooner than he expected. A voice hailed the warriors from outside the wall and all of the men looked down at the same time. In a movement too smooth and quick to attract attention, Maximus leaned over and snaked an arm around the boy and hauled him onto Scarto, settling the youngster between his legs. They let the reins of the other animals slip through their hands and the well-trained horses kept right on running in the established circle pattern. Maximus gently reined in Scarto and urged the stallion up the few steps to the doorway, which Maximus had left ajar. With one kick of his booted foot they were inside.

Maximus vaulted off the stallion and plunged into a frenzy of action. With Asellio's help, he dragged, kicked, grabbed and pulled the heavy furniture that he had piled near the door in front of the entrance to block it from the inside. He included everything he could find that had any weight and was moveable. As he grabbed Scarto's bridle he heard the cry of alarm from outside and knew that the Germanians would be at the door within minutes. Trying to keep the stress out of his voice, he coaxed the big horse through the building and into the general's quarters where he and Asellio obstructed the door once again. The pounding on the outside door sounded like thunder rolling through the deserted building, emphasizing the fugitives' sense of urgency. Despite its cramped dimensions, Maximus was convinced he could get the unsaddled horse through the tunnel and he pulled Scarto towards the opening. But the animal locked his legs at the threshold of the dark cavity and no amount of coaxing could persuade him to enter.

Giving the horse a moment to calm down, Maximus tossed on his cuirass, leaving it unbuckled, then swung his cape and furs over his shoulders. He talked in measured tones to his stallion who tried to back away from the aperture. "Please don't do this now, Scarto. It's the only way out, boy."

"Here, Sir, use this." Asellio tossed him a blanket and Maximus threw it over Scarto's head and neck prompting the horse to shake his head determinedly, but he could not dislodge it. Gradually, Maximus felt the animal's body relax and he firmly pulled the stallion towards the opening, holding his head low.

"Asellio, grab that lantern and get into the tunnel. I'll be right behind you. Don't get too far ahead of me and make sure you keep to the right." Maximus gave the blinded animal time to find secure footing despite the ominous sound of the front door being hacked apart with axes and furniture being thrown aside. But as soon as Scarto was completely inside the passageway Maximus ducked under the horse's belly and closed the wardrobe's doors before shoving the back wall shut. Once again he crawled underneath the horse and stood up at his head. His hands found the animal's nose and he whispered soft words of encouragement as he urged the stallion forward. With one hand on the damp stone wall of the tunnel and the other holding Scarto's head down so the animal wouldn't hit the low ceiling, Maximus moved deeper into the tunnel, following Asellio's bobbing lantern. Scarto grunted and hesitated as the walls of the passageway brushed his sides but he continued on at Maximus' urging. The only sounds in the tunnel were the clip clop of the horse's hooves, his occasional snort and the footsteps of the two soldiers. As Maximus had hoped, the Germanians were confused by his disappearing act in the bedroom but he knew it wouldn't be long before they figured out the secret of the wardrobe.

Maximus estimated that they were about half-way there when Asellio cried out as his feet unexpectedly found the ice and he went down heavily, the lantern crashing to the ground and shattering, plunging them into total blackness. Maximus groped for the boy and hauled him up by his tunic. "It's all right, son. Just keep your hand on the wall and go a bit slower."

"I'm sorry, General," said Asellio with tears in his voice.

Maximus patted his shoulder with a reassurance that he did not feel. "It's all right, soldier. The lack of light means that the Germanians won't be able to see us either. Keep to the right and lift your feet so you don't trip on the uneven ground. And keep whispering to me so I know where you are." Maximus pulled the redundant blanket off the horse's head and Scarto shook out his thick mane.

"I'm afraid..."

"Here, I'm going to hang on to one end of the blanket and you can --" Maximus' words were cut short by a crash of splintering wood that reverberated throughout the passageway. The Germanians had found them. "Move! Move!" He hissed at Asellio. "Keep right and don't stop until you get to the door."

Shouts echoed through the tunnel and the two fugitives careened off jagged stone walls and slid on the slick ground in their haste to flee, their pounding hearts constricting their breathing. Scarto squealed as the stone scraped his raw sides again and again. Maximus had no idea how many men were now in the tunnel. All they could do was try to beat their pursuers to the end.

A light flooded the shaft behind them causing their own weird twisting shadows to out-race them. Maximus was loathe to draw his sword for fear of inadvertently injuring the youngster in front of him, but he knew he may soon be left no other option. The Chatti warriors shouted at them, the gutteral words unfamiliar but the implication clear -- they were being commanded to stop.

"Keep going," Maximus panted. "We must be almost there." He had no sooner uttered the words when Asellio thudded hard into the solid wooden door and bounced back into Maximus' arms, stunned.

But, aided by their light, the warriors had caught up to them.

"Back!" Maximus shouted at Scarto as he shoved on the animal's shoulders. The horse recognized his master's battle-mode and quickly complied, pinning one warrior against the wall. The man's breath hissed through his crushed lungs and Maximus held the horse steady until the warrior stopped breathing. A companion, though, was foolish enough to try to slide onto the horse's back to get to Maximus. Scarto wasn't having any of that and he bucked hard, sending the warrior sliding beneath his sharp hooves. The horse trampled hard on the body beneath him, pounding it to pulp. Blocked from getting to his prey by the big animals' body, another man attempted to shove the horse's hindquarters aside. But Scarto had had enough. He bunched his powerful hindquarters and kicked out with his back legs, catching the Chatti warrior in the chest and smashing him against the stone. He screamed and threw out his hands in a vain attempt to ward off further blows but Scarto's blood was up and he continued to kick back until the man slid, lifeless, down the wall.

Breathing hard, Maximus steadied the horse and listened for the sound of more men, but all he could hear was the terrified sobs of the boy pressed against the door. He could hear him but not see him as the lantern light was gone again. "Asellio... Asellio, it's all right now. They're dead. We're safe." Maximus felt for the boy and found his arm. He gently pulled the child to his side and hugged him as he said, "Let me just get this open and we're on our way to safety." After two powerful shoves the door creaked open, soft sunlight illuminating the foliage that disguised the tunnel door. Maximus dropped to his hands and knees and parted the branches, squinting into the sunlight as he cautiously peered out. No one was there. Grinning, he ruffled the boy's hair and helped him outside, then he guided the unresisting Scarto through the bushes too.

Maximus wanted to do nothing more than turn his face to the sun and wait for his rapidly-beating heart to settle, but he was concerned that more warriors would pursue them through the tunnel. The rest, he guessed, would be searching for them in the forest. So he grabbed Scarto's mane and pulled himself onto the horse's broad back then lifted Asellio up behind him. He turned the horse in the direction that Lucius and Freyda had taken and nudged him into action.

After some wandering through the thick trees, he found the dirt road and steered the horse south. An exhausted Asellio leaned against Maximus' back, his body limp as he dozed, so the general wrapped the boy's arms around his waist and secured them with one hand to keep the child from slipping off. But Maximus was fully alert. The outpost wasn't that far behind them and they were a long, long way from safety.

Scarto sensed it before he did. The horse flicked his ears backwards and snorted. Maximus glanced over his shoulder and, seeing no one, pulled the animal to a halt and turned him to face the direction they had come. The road was empty with nothing but songbirds darting among the treetops to disturb the stillness. Maximus stroked the horse's neck. "What do you hear, boy?" Scarto pranced and snorted again and Maximus felt unease creep up his spine. "Asellio, wake up. We may be in for some trouble." The youngster stirred sleepily. "Hang on to me as tight as you can. Do you understand?" Asellio nodded against his back, too frightened to say a word. Maximus' hand slid to the sword at his hip but he left it in it's sheath.

Suddenly, a flock of blackbirds screeched into the sky from the bushes to their right, their squawking merging with the war whoops of the fearsome Chatti warriors who burst from the thick evergreen trees on both sides of the road, weapons in hand and at a run. They poured from the forest like wild river rapids, brandishing swords, spears and bows. Maximus whirled Scarto around and kicked him into a full gallop. Spears whizzed past them and arrows thudded into the ground around them. Maximus greatly regretted putting the boy behind him but there was no time to change position now. "Hang on!" he cried again.

The huge stallion rapidly opened a distance between them and their hunters but Maximus knew the horse would tire quickly with the extra weight of the boy. He was also aware that Scarto was bleeding and had been for some time, warm blood from his scraped sides seeping through Maximus' trousers. And, the road was becoming hilly, the gentle rises having yielded to steep slopes and plunging valleys. "Go! Go!" Maximus urged his mount but the horse was already foaming at the mouth, his sides heaving. Maximus could see no alternative but to try to outrun the warriors. If he veered off the road and attempted to hide in the brush they would be found for sure. The stallion's hooves chewed the ground but Maximus felt him stumble slightly -- once, then twice. Frantically, Maximus tried to think of an alternative escape plan should the horse falter. Scarto valiantly struggled up the steep slope, his huge heart refusing to fail. Maximus saw the horse's ears perk again, but this time they swiveled forward. Something was on the other side of the hill.

Then Maximus heard it too. The tramping of feet. And as he crested the hill he saw it -- the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. The golden eagle of Rome glinted in the sun and purple flags snapped in the breeze in front of an unending river of Roman soldiers, fully armed and ready for battle. Horns blared when they saw their general riding towards them like a madman. Behind him, the Germanian warriors skidded to a halt, unable to believe what they were seeing. Their prey had escaped and he was now safely enveloped by the five thousand soldiers of Felix III who instantly assumed battle position right in the middle of the road, prepared to fight to the death to defend their general.

And... in the midst of them... sitting dignified and tall on his white stallion... was the Divine Imperator Caesar Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus himself, his thin, white hair blowing in the stiff breeze, his purple cape billowing over his gleaming royal purple and gilt cuirass. The emperor was commanding this operation himself.

The Germanians didn't stand a chance.

Chapter 98 - Summer, A.D. 179

For the next eighteen months, emperor and general fought battles spawned by Marcus Aurelius' fateful decision to send his treasured general into enemy territory to solve what had appeared to be a relatively minor dispute at an insignificant Roman outpost. The incident had been the catalyst that had plunged the northern region into a series of brutal battles over territory and cultural differences.

Maximus never had made it back to base camp at Bonna after his escape from the outpost. After the Chatti warriors pursuing him had been soundly defeated, he had stood with head bowed and eyes down, as he was publicly reprimanded by Marcus for risking his life to save his horse. When Maximus humbly asked for his emperor's forgiveness he was pulled into an emotional embrace, Marcus' wet face pressed against his general's, the old man's frail body trembling, his gnarled knuckles white where he clutched the younger man's arm and neck, and he begged his general's forgiveness for sending him into such an unstable and dangerous situation in the first place. The men of Felix III all remembered being scolded by their fathers in an anger fueled by fear and relief after being rescued from the brink of disaster. There was no doubt about the mutual love and respect shared by these two men.

Maximus remained at the front commanding battle after battle in the dense pine forests while his emperor returned to base camp and attempted in vain to negotiate peace with the combined Chatti, Marcomanni and Quadi tribes. Just when it seemed like the last battle had been won, new conflicts sprang up elsewhere and the general and local legions converged on that area supported by the ever-present and never-tiring men of Felix III.

It wasn't until the summer of 179 that Maximus enacted such a decisive victory that the Germanians retreated to lick their wounds and regroup allowing the general a short reprieve at Bonna. He was eager to see Lucius and Asellio again and to discover what had happened to Freyda. He was also anxious to collect the letters from his wife that had been piling up in his absence and he knew that she would be frantic with worry at his lack of response. His men also needed a break from battle, however short, so the weary soldiers of Felix III rode into Bonna one sultry July afternoon, ready for some serious relaxation.

Some of his men remained secluded with their families while others elected to spend their nights drinking, carousing and whoring. Maximus didn't care how they choose to regenerate themselves as long as they were ready to switch into battle-mode at a moment's notice.

Maximus, though, sat in his tent alone, the lamplight turned low, illuminating nothing beyond his face, hands and desktop, ignoring even the whining mosquitoes that were attracted to the flame and his exposed flesh. He preferred it that way when he read his letters from Olivia because the shadowed tent helped him shut out Germania and imagine, for a short while, that he was home in Spain and that tomorrow he would till a field and play with his son and embrace his wife rather than contemplate yet more pain and death. He longed for construction, not destruction. He longed to nurture life, not breed death. Olivia's letters helped structure that dream of Spain and he relished every word, reading them over and over again until he had almost committed them to memory.

He longed for another child so much that he ached for it in every bone of his body. He had hoped that he would have received word of another pregnancy after Olivia had spent so many months in Germania with him but there had been no message and no joyous celebration over the birth of a third child. He hadn't raised the issue in any of his letters because he was certain that Olivia was as disappointed as he was. He had wondered, when her letters had stopped for a while two years ago, if she had suffered a miscarriage but she had assured him that was not the case. Maximus knew that Olivia had been badly shaken by her experiences in Germania and he surmised that she kept troubling details of her life to herself to avoid adding to his stress, just as he did with her. But, it made him search between the lines of her letters to try to guess what was being left unsaid even though the tone of her latest letters was positive and uplifting.

She included drawings of their son who was growing at an amazing rate. She said he was healthy and happy but missed his papa very much. Olivia even enclosed some primitive drawings that the child had created himself. One was of Maximus and he roared with laughter as he saw himself through his son's eyes: all cape, fur, beard and eyes with a big, goofy smile, and arms bumpy with muscle. One of his stallions stood beside him -- a stick figure, really -- and much smaller than his important papa. After studying every minute detail of the drawings, Maximus secured them in a packet that he would add to his treasury when he returned to Vindobona.

The only downside to reading the letters was Olivia's constant request for information about when he would return home. He tried to emphasize that it would be a while -- maybe not until harvest time -- even though he knew that would be impossible. It had been about two and a half years since he had last seen his family and he wanted to leave his wife with some hope that he would be with her again soon. He longed for home... yearned for his wife and son... and the pain was made more severe when he visited Lucius and his family.

Lucius had settled into the village of Bonna with Erika and their four children. And, they had a new addition to their family. Asellio was now their oldest son and he thrived in the loving atmosphere of their crowded little house. Maximus had arranged a promotion for Lucius to the regular army with all of his years in the auxiliary counting as seniority, and the resulting increase in pay helped him settle his family into a simple but comfortable lifestyle. He acted as official translator for army officers as well as any dignitaries who visited Bonna and needed his services. Unlike Maximus, he was never gone from his family for more than a few weeks at a time.

As for Freyda, she had wasted no time in hooking up with a merchant band heading south and was probably close to Rome by now, ever resourceful, ever searching.

One night, Maximus and Quintus shared the table with Asellio, Lucius and Erika, their youngest daughter balanced on her mother's knee. The three older children had been fed and were now noisily playing nearby. Maximus was totally relaxed, bathing in the happy sounds of the children even though they brought pangs of longing to his heart. He gazed at the baby on Erika's lap. The rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed child had a soft cloud of wispy butter-yellow hair that framed her chubby face. She sat wide-eyed, two fingers in her mouth as she examined her closest table companion, Quintus. The baby had reached out a tentative hand to the legate but he had reacted by recoiling slightly from her sticky fingers so now she stared at him with uncertain emotions flitting across her sweet features. She wasn't sure whether to be afraid of this unyielding man or not but she obviously decided that she was safe as long as it was her mama's knee under her bottom, and her mama's breasts against her back.

Everything was peaceful and merry until Erika decided to fetch more wine from the cellar. The woman glanced at her husband's empty chair -- he was still separating two children whose amicable game had suddenly degenerated into a physical battle -- then plunked the baby onto the nearest lap -- Quintus' -- before she bustled off to do her errand.

Startled by her sudden change of location, the child blinked rapidly and her eyes widened. As her expression changed, so did Maximus' -- a slow grin spreading over his face as he watched Quintus stiffly grasp the baby under her arms and balance her on the very edge of his knees, as far away from his body as he could get her. Quintus couldn't see the explosion coming but Maximus could. Suddenly, the baby opened her mouth and screamed, her face turning crimson on its way to purple. At a complete loss, Quintus elected to rapidly jiggle his knees in hopes of calming the child, but merely succeeded in bouncing her so hard that she looked like she was perched on a wild, bucking stallion. Her screeching abated only to draw deep breaths to fuel further complaint. Quintus' own face now matched the color of the baby's.

"Give her to me," said Maximus as he reached out his hands and Quintus wasted no time in unloading the shrieking bundle who was now as rigid with distress as he was.

By this time both Erika and Lucius had rushed back to the table. "I'll take her, Maximus," said Erika as she reached for her baby. But Maximus had already settled the frightened child into the crook of his arm, cuddling her tightly against his chest, and he waved Erika away.

"I can handle this," he smiled. "I wish all problems were as easy to solve." Maximus was wearing a simple white tunic, his boots discarded in favor of cooler sandals, and the baby was cocooned securely between the soft fabric and his bare arm. "What's her name?" he asked as he gently rocked her, his large hand caressing her silky curls, almost obscuring her head. Already she had quieted, her mewling cries mingled with hiccups.

"Isolde," said Lucius who regarded Maximus thoughtfully. "She seems to like you."

"I like her," replied Maximus softly, well aware that his deep voice was rumbling in his chest, and in Isolde's ear. She seemed to find the vibration comforting, though, and snuggled even closer as she stuck a thumb in her mouth, finally content. Maximus hunched his shoulder and moved the baby closer to his face, burying his nose in her hair as he took a deep breath. Erika smiled knowingly but Quintus remained detached. "Mmmm, she smells so wonderful," Maximus crooned. "Babies have such an incredible... baby smell."

Quintus wrinkled his nose.

"No," said Maximus with exasperation. "Not that smell. I mean...," he fumbled for the words, "... a baby smell." He studied Quintus who seemed to find the oil lamp on the table fascinating. "Quintus, isn't your Clara about this age? You should hold Isolde. You obviously need some practice." Maximus intended his words to be lightly teasing but Quintus' face tightened.

Maximus and Lucius exchanged glances. The reunion of the three childhood friends had been strained to say the least despite the warmth of Lucius' casual hospitality. All evening Maximus had struggled to understand his distant attitude and wondered if Quintus -- the only high-born one -- found himself to be the least content of the three. Lucius had not accomplished much in his military life but he had more than made up for that in his devotion to his large family. Maximus, of course, had both military accomplishment and a loving family. Quintus had not attained his desired position within the army nor did he have a family -- his young wife dead and a girl-child he had never seen far away in Rome. Quintus was suffering from an acute dissatisfaction with all aspects of his life, Maximus decided. And Maximus didn't know what to do about it, or even if he could do anything.

Quintus looked at Maximus and the baby whose head was now drooped in sleep. All night the boy, Asellio, had quietly regarded Maximus with something akin to worship. Lucius had bent his head close to the general's a number of times to exchange private words. Erika had fussed over Maximus' comfort, his food and his drink, as if his pleasure were the most important thing in her life. And now he had charmed a screaming baby -- a baby that had been content until he, Quintus, had held her. He abruptly rose to his feet. "I'm tired. If you'll excuse me, I'm going back to camp."

Maximus half-rose, clutching Isolde to his chest. "Quintus... stay. The night is still young."

"Stay," echoed Lucius. "Please. We have much to catch up on."

But Quintus was already on his way to the door. "I am tired, as I said." He managed a humorless smile. "Lucius... I'm sure I'll see you again before we leave. My Lady," he bowed slightly to Erika, "many thanks for welcoming me into your home." With that he was out the door in one swift movement, denying any further coaxing.

"Oh dear," said Erika as she sank back into her seat. She turned to Maximus. "Did we offend him in some way?"

Maximus settled Isolde back into his arm as he sat down again. "No," he assured her with a kind smile. "Lucius and I have been trying to understand what drives Quintus for years without success. I don't know of anybody who really understands him."

Lucius poured Maximus another goblet of wine and Erika lit a few more lanterns as the gray evening light in the tiny courtyard faded to black. Then she left to shoo the younger children to bed. Asellio remained at the table with the two men, still quiet, still overwhelmed by the man beside him. The boy was surprised at how much younger the general looked sitting here in civilian clothes in the soft evening light with a baby cuddled in his arm. He looked young and strong and handsome and relaxed and... approachable. Not soft, Asellio, decided... never soft. But decidedly approachable.

As Maximus lifted the goblet to his lips Lucius said, "Quintus' emotional well-being is not your responsibility, Maximus. He was never happy and he probably never will be. He will always be reaching for something just beyond his grasp."

"I don't feel responsible for his emotional well-being."

"Yes you do."

"Well, if I do then it is because he holds an important position within my legion and he makes life or death decisions when I am not able to. A man who is unhappy with his lot in life is not a man who will use the best judgment in difficult situations."

"Then he's a dangerous man if he has that much power."

"Lucius, it's not that simple."

"Tell me this, Maximus. If you knew that you were going to die tomorrow and you had the opportunity to choose your successor... would it be him?"

Maximus looked away from his friend, his thoughts returning to a time when he did not trust Quintus at all. "No," he said simply.

"Isn't that exactly what would happen -- Quintus would succeed you?"

"He would take my place temporarily until my successor was appointed by the emperor. Marcus Aurelius is an astute judge of character, Lucius. He would make the right decision."

"Did Marcus Aurelius appoint you general, sir?" Asellio had finally decided to join the conversation.

Maximus turned his head and smiled at the boy, the outer corners of his eyes slanting down and crinkling as they always did when he smiled. "He did."

"Then that proves what you say about the emperor having good judgment." Asellio smiled shyly.

Maximus ruffled the boy's hair then playfully shoved him back in his chair. "It does, does it?"

Asellio just grinned.

But Lucius wasn't so easily satisfied. "What if something happened to you and the emperor at the same time? You could both be killed in the same battle."

"What if. What if," Maximus teased Lucius. "What if the mountains melted? What if it snowed in the middle of July? What if the water in the Danube turned to wine?"

Lucius sniffed at his friend's refusal to take his concerns seriously.

Maximus tried to mollify Lucius. "I have tested Quintus by leaving him in charge of the legion for long stretches of time while I have been away. He has performed admirably."

"He also knew that you were still the boss even if you weren't there. He knew that he'd have to answer to you if he did anything incredibly stupid." Lucius slouched in his chair, stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. He looked sideways at Maximus. "Are you telling me that you trust him completely?"

"No, but there are few men that I trust completely."

"Am I one of them?"

"Yes... otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation." Maximus turned to Asellio. "You understand that anything we say does not go beyond these walls, son?"

"Yes sir," Asellio nodded vigorously, anxious to please this man more than anything.

Erika returned and moved to Maximus' side to take the child from his arms. "It's well past her bedtime, Maximus."

"She's asleep," he protested, loathe to relinquish the sweet, warm baby.

Erika just cocked her eyebrow, her hands on her ample hips. Maximus gently kissed Isolde's curls then gathered her into his large hands and delivered her to her mother, a long silver strand of drool from the child's mouth clinging to his hand. Maximus simply wiped it on his tunic, his eyes still on the sleeping child as she was carried away.

"You need to go home."

"Hmmm?" asked Maximus, distracted.

"You need to go home," repeated Lucius, "... to see your wife and son. And to have more babies. How long has it been?"

"Two and a half years... thirty months... one hundred and thirty weeks... a long time no matter how you count it."

"Do you know how many days and hours?" smiled Lucius.

"Yes." There was no humor in Maximus' reply. The hours were as indelibly etched in Maximus' mind as if they had been scratched into a stone wall.

"It's too long, Maximus."

Erika's voice drifted to them from the bedroom, sweet but firm. "Asellio, it's time for bed."

The boy grimaced but said his goodnights and received assurances that he would see Maximus again soon.

When the door closed behind the boy Maximus leaned forward in his chair and said in a low voice, "Once this war is over I believe we will finally have stability in the north. I intend to ask the emperor to release me so I can return home... for good. I want to retire from the army. I have had enough killing to last me many lifetimes."

Lucius placed his hand overtop of Maximus' much larger one on the arm of his chair. "You deserve it. A soldier has never given more to the army than you have. I'm sure he'll let you go."

Maximus nodded but his eyes shifted away and concentrated on the wall before the gray stones blurred, unfocused. Would the emperor allow him to retire? Would Rome ever loosen her grip on him?

Chapter 99 - Late November A.D. 179

Maximus sat in his well-appointed tent at the base camp about a mile from the battlefront which was now only a few hours north of Vindobona, a letter from the emperor in his hands and a puzzled frown creating a furrow down the center of his forehead. Even though the war was in its final phase, Marcus elected to remain at Vindobona without explanation. He assured Maximus that he had full faith in his ability to conduct operations on his own but that he would not miss the final fray for anything. He wanted to witness first-hand the battle that would bring peace to the empire at last. Marcus' letters were full of praise and encouragement for his general but they left Maximus disturbed and discontent rather than reassured.

"Is something wrong, sir?" asked Cicero, steam from the plate in his hand wreathing around his head in the chilly air. He set Maximus' dinner in front of him on his desk, knowing that the general preferred to dine alone on nights before a battle so he could collect his thoughts. Cicero turned away to pour Maximus some wine, unsure if he would receive an answer to his question and totally unconcerned whether he did or not. He wasn't prying. He simply wanted Maximus to know that he was always conscious of his feelings and was pleased to be a confidante should the general need one.

Maximus dropped a hand to his lap still clutching the letter and the other settled onto the head of the big gray dog who rested his chin on his master's knee, having also sensed Maximus' unsettled mood and eager to soothe him. Hercules' nose twitched as the food passed over his head and his long pink tongue swept out to catch the drool that formed, unbidden, on his black lips. He didn't move otherwise, quite content to wait until Maximus shared the meal with him, as he knew he would. In the meantime, he would enjoy the ear rub and the feel of his master's strong leg under his jaw and against his chest.

Maximus glanced at his friend and sighed. "I don't know, Cicero. It's unlike the emperor to avoid battles. When he was a younger man he commanded them himself from the back of his stallion, and now he sits at Vindobona and entrusts it all to me. I'm worried that he's keeping something from me."

"He's old, sir, and maybe tired." Cicero wasn't sure that his words would sound as reassuring as he intended.

Maximus set aside the letter and picked up a fork, distractedly shifting around the food on his plate, his stomach too agitated to permit hunger. "Yes... but we've won a number of resounding victories lately and in a matter of weeks we may achieve what Marcus has sought for twenty years -- peace in the empire. It's hard to imagine, isn't it, Cicero. Peace. No more killing. Caesar should be here to see this war finish. I can't believe he's missing it."

"He knows you can do it without him." Cicero sat down in a nearby chair, sensing that Maximus needed to talk.

"I... I need him here. I need his council. It is not enough communicating by letter. I haven't actually seen him since last spring." Maximus stared at the papyrus again. "I need his company," he said, his voice no more than a whisper. "I suppose that I just miss him." He smiled derisively. "Maybe I just want him to personally accept my gift of peace... to hear him say how much it means to him."

"You love him very much, don't you?"

Maximus didn't reply. He didn't need to. He simply laced his fingers under his chin and stared at the candles beside his plate, the light flickering on the food which would soon find its way to Hercules' mouth. The dog nudged his knee just to remind him.

Cicero studied his general -- the furrowed brow, the hooded eyes, the slumped shoulders. He offered a gentle suggestion. "Maybe the emperor just wants you to tell him that. Tell him that you need him. Sometimes you are so strong people don't believe you need anybody."

Maximus looked at Cicero, startled, a question in his eyes. "People really see me that way?" Cicero nodded. "Do you?"

"You are strong, but I see a different side of you too... a side that most others do not. I've seen you playing with your little boy, reading and writing difficult letters to your wife, agonizing over battle plans, grieving the loss of men who have fallen. Here...," Cicero pushed Maximus' plate closer to him. "Eat your supper before it gets even colder... then write to the emperor telling him how you feel and that you need him here." Cicero grasped Maximus' forearm and looked sincerely into the troubled blue eyes. "He'll come here for you no matter what his problem is."

January, A.D. 180

Maximus Decimus Meridius stood in the burned-out field deep in the pine forest north of Vindobona. Blackened stumps now dotted the barren landscape where majestic green trees had stood swaying in the gusty winds just days ago. Snow flakes swirled, mingled with white ashes, making it difficult to distinguish the new and fresh from the old and dead on this frigid, January morning early in the year 180. He should be euphoric, he thought, but instead he felt only dread at what the coming weeks might bring. He and his men had swept victoriously through Germania in the past few months, their strength and vigor fired by the knowledge that it was almost over -- that only a few pockets of resistance remained -- and they were now down to their final battle. Today could be the day that brought peace at last to the empire. He should be euphoric.

But he was not.

On a hill overlooking the battlefield where his men now moved into position awaiting their general's orders, Marcus Aurelius sat astride his white stallion, his thin frame heavily cloaked against the biting winds. Maximus had been shocked when he had first seen his emperor a week ago after being apart for almost ten months. How frail he was! How sickly. His invincible emperor was obviously invincible no more. When Maximus had embraced him he had feared the old man's brittle bones would snap. It was clear that he was dying and that his death would bring a frightening new regime to the empire and leave a gaping wound in Maximus' heart unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Even now he felt his chest constrict painfully at the thought of losing the man he loved as a father. And when that happened, Commodus would become all-powerful -- an irresponsible, spiteful, dangerous emperor -- and Maximus knew already that he could never serve such a man even though Maximus had had a chance to alter the situation through a method that he just couldn't submit to. He would ask Marcus for his release and return to his family in Spain -- and run from the inescapable death of his beloved emperor. He had never considered himself a coward but the thought of watching Marcus slowly wither and die like leaves on an oak tree under autumn's frost was too much to bear. Maximus had already lost one father; he could not bear to lose another.

He would go home where he belonged, to the comforting arms of his loving wife and son, and resume his interrupted life as a farmer. He would sire more children and watch them grow up happy and strong and healthy and he would revel in his grandchildren and -- the gods be willing -- great-grandchildren.

Maximus looked at the scorched earth at his feet and used the toe of his worn, dusty boot to scrape aside some dirt and ash, searching for indication of life in this hellish place. A delicate green sapling was all he sought. Just a sign that something still lived in this dead and desolate land -- would regenerate it -- and that his life would rejuvenate too. He found no sapling. Instead, his nostrils were assaulted with acrid smoke, his throat burned and his eyes stung and watered. He would try to convince himself that the unshed tears that blurred his eyes were caused by the smoke. He blinked to soothe them and swallowed hard.

His men were ready, he knew, for this final battle and they, too, could envision their homes within their grasp. They were ready to follow their brave general's every move, jump to his every command -- this man who had led them safely through battle after battle. He would end this interminable war and send them all home, they believed. But all of that was in the future, however close or distant, and now they needed to focus on the task at hand, the final battle, and Maximus did too.

He squared his shoulders and felt the comforting weight of the trappings of his office -- the brass cuirass, cape and furs. Slowly he raised his head and focused his thoughts on the battle ahead. He took a deep, steadying breath then turned away, only to hesitate, his eye caught by a little touch of color in this gray, bleak land. It was a robin, a very small one, in a place where it was far too early in the year to see robins. It perched upon a barren twig, bouncing slightly in the cold breeze, seemingly unaware of the devastation that had been wreaked here and the violence that was still to come. A small smile tugged at Maximus' mouth at finding a touch of beauty and life among the ruins.

As he watched, it fluttered its tiny wings and flew off to the right. A good sign, thought Maximus, and he smiled as he watched it fly until it was swallowed by the leaden winter skies. A good sign, he decided again and he pushed all thoughts from his mind except the task at hand -- winning the upcoming battle. His face hardened into the impermeable mask that so terrified his enemies, emotionless and unreadable, signaling to the world that he was ready to meet and defeat any obstacle that stood between himself and what he wanted.

He turned gracefully, his long cape swirling around his knees, and headed across the dreary field back towards his men who awaited his orders... and to the emperor that he loved so dearly, and for whom Maximus would gladly sacrifice his own life on the battlefield to grant him his dying wish -- peace and stability in the Roman empire.

Departure: "Will I ever see you again?"

Written by Hebe Blanco

Dawn came as dawn always comes, be it to bring us joy or a death sentence. As the emperor had told me, Cornelius Crassus came to Marcellus' tent when it was still dark.

"Domina," he said, slightly bowing his head. I flinched at being addressed by the respectful title, then reminded myself that the respectful title was the appropriate one for the woman I had become because of the document packed in my trunk. I nodded in answer while I tried to measure the man standing in front of me. Cornelius Crassus was a thin, wiry man, half a head shorter than me with thick, dark auburn hair and mossy green eyes. I sighed, knowing from experience that short men have a tendency to bad temper and most of them badly resent women who are taller than them, especially if they are slender like me. He stood proudly erect, as it befits a Roman soldier, his shining helmet under his arm, his leather cuirass and military leather kilt neatly oiled and polished.

"We will be departing in a hour, Domina," he said in a curiously quiet voice. "Am I right if I suppose that you've already packed?"

"Its done," I answered in an equally quiet voice, too spent to rebel against my fate and the will of a man who wanted me yet refused to have me. A man who had also refused the imperial daughter and would soon depart for home and a wife he loved.

I'd come back to Marcellus' tent from my meeting with the emperor only to find there a young man who was in his service. He was quickly followed by other two bringing in my trunks from the slaves' quarters. The man, who identified himself as Romulus, told me that he had been ordered to supervise the preparations of the women who'd travel with the legion to Rome. He instructed both me and Rufa to get what belongings we kept in the tent, pack them and be ready to travel at dawn. We needn't worry about the food supplies, he said, for the legions quaestor would take care of everything. And the quaestor standing in front of me seemed quite capable of managing both petty and important affairs.

"Domina," he said, "I've been told that you're the slaves' leader," he said in his curiously quiet voice.

I shrugged. Leadership and the ability to thrust a piece of iron in another being's flesh are both the most appreciated skills in Roman culture. How ironic that Maximus had risen from his humble, provincial origins thanks to them and that I had gotten my freedom and wealth through them too!

At the mere thought, I felt like laughing but Cornelius Crassus frowned. That, and the knowledge that if I started to laugh I'd go mad, prevented me from doing so. I shrugged again. "Yes, for the lack of a better word, you may say that I am their ... leader," I said.

"Domina, the journey to Rome will be long and tedious, even for the legion. Women are not used to the rigors of the roads and also can become a problem. A serious problem."

It was my turn to frown. What was the man talking about? He went ahead. "What I mean, Domina, is that women may be a distraction for the soldiers and even the officers. I have seen them, Domina. They are young and beautiful." His Latin had a quality of insulting purity and was more adequate for the floor of the senate than the army. Then I remembered myself that he was a quaestor, the office frequently reserved for those sons of the high-ranking families with sharp minds but no love for war. They served the required years dealing with the legion's accounts and logistics till they were of age for the senatorial toga. I could easily imagine the short man standing in front of me wearing the pristine folds of the purple striped toga with the same ease as Maximus carried his battle worn brass cuirass.

Maximus. His name was like a stab in my heart, the echoes of my conversation with the emperor still in my mind. But Cornelius Crassus was talking, his mind focused on his duty and I was forced to pay attention again to the annoying, little man, even if I only wanted to be left alone with my broken, bleeding heart.

"There is also the problem of the slave girls. They are very young, mere children and the emperor has ordered the legion to go to Rome as quickly as possible so it won't be possible to take them with us. They will remain with the emperor and return later." As he talked, Cornelius Crassus looked at Rufa, who was glaring at us with her big, round, always frightened eyes. The quaestor looked back at me. "Is this girl your personal maid?" I nodded again, not wanting to talk if I could avoid it. "Then, she'll be coming with us. I've been ordered to deliver her to the imperial palace. She can serve you during the journey but the other women will have to fend for themselves."

I heard Rufa's gasp and turned around to reassure her that everything was alright. Then, I angrily faced the pompous quaestor. "Deliver? Did you say deliver?" I asked him in a cold, hard voice. The man flinched. "She's to be given to the Lady Lucilla ...," he started but I interrupted him. "The emperor offered to take care of my maid for I cannot do it personally and agreed to entrust her to his daughter, for she is worthy of serving her and her son -- agreed?" I said flatly. The quaestor held my gaze, then nodded slightly and went on talking, his face unreadable. He could have been handsome if he had not taken himself so seriously or at least relaxed a little.

"I've ordered three caravans to transport you and the other women with speed and as much comfort as possible," he said. "As you're my personal charge, you and your maid can have the smaller one for yourselves alone. The other women will have to share the other two."

"I don't want to travel in a caravan," I snapped.

Cornelius Crassus frowned again and then added with a touch of impatience in his cultured voice, "Domina, how do you intend to travel to Rome? On foot?"

His patronizing attitude did it. I squared my shoulders, ready to fight. He was neither Maximus nor Marcus Aurelius. "No, quaestor," I said. "On horseback."

He gasped. "Domina, you can't be serious!" Despite his efforts, Cornelius Crassus was loosing his composure and I bitterly enjoyed his obvious confusion.

"How do you think I came here? Flying?" I demanded. "I don't want to travel in a caravan for I'm not a piece of merchandise. Not anymore. I want a horse. And a good, spirited one for I'm as good a rider as you ... or perhaps even better. Quaestors don't do a lot of soldiering, do they?"

I was not bragging. I was a good rider and I still am. Cassius himself taught me how to ride when I was still a little girl, long before sending me to the senator's bed. He liked to ride around the country surrounding his villa and used to take some of his girls with him. Riding is probably the only pleasant, innocent skill I learned under his mastery and nowadays I still like to ride. Sometimes I go riding with Apollinarius but mostly I ride alone, my husband unable to come with me.

When riding alone, I like to set my horse on a gallop on the beach, the wind singing in my ears, the waves gently splashing both my horse and me. And when I ride, I can easily lose myself and become one with the wind and the sea and even sometimes forget. Forget that I was born a slave. Forget that I lived most of my life as a whore. Forget that the scared little girl still lives inside me despite the twists of fate. Forget that despite freedom and wealth and marriage I still feel as lonely as I have always felt. What not even riding and the sea and the wind can make me forget is that I love Maximus, that I long for him, ache for him ... and I always will.

Mercifully silent, Cornelius Crassus looked at me for a long moment then nodded again, the stiffness of his gesture a clear sign of his raising disappointment with his "personal charge" as he had called me. "I will give orders that a horse be prepared for you--"

I interrupted him again. "Order four horses, quaestor. There are other women in the slaves’ quarters who can ride and will enjoy the opportunity to do so." Even if the presence of Aelia, Ariadna and Eugenia would force me to endure their incessant, childish chattering during the long march, I had no heart to confine them to the wagons, knowing as I knew that they would enjoy the freedom of the dusty road.

Cornelius Crassus was not happy with my demand. Not happy at all.

"Domina, having to bring fourteen women with the legion is problem enough. Having four of them riding among the soldiers could be a threat to the legions discipline! If you insist on having them riding instead of traveling in the wagon, I will require your help to keep them apart from the soldiers and officers, Domina, even if you are my personal charge." I arched my eyebrows as Cornelius Crassus went on. "I will not tolerate breaches in the discipline of the army and you must help prevent the women from becoming a source of distress. I will not tolerate them consorting with the soldiers or the officers."

"Why? Because they were born slaves and used as whores all their lives?" Only when I heard my words did I notice that I had voiced them. And that my tone was hard and bitter. Cornelius Crassus flinched, obviously not used to being questioned. Especially by a woman. He recovered quickly but I was quicker. "Have you ever been to a brothel, quaestor?" I asked in a cold, hard voice. He was taken aback. Surely the high ranking women he was used to talking to did not know anything about brothels and whoring. "You like women, don't you? Or is it that you don't like to share and prefer to keep a secret mistress?" Cornelius Crassus blushed furiously and was clearly at a loss of words. I pushed him. "You didn't answer, quaestor. Have you ever been to a brothel?"

He composed his face and answered, "Yes, Domina. I have been to a brothel."

"Good," I said briefly asking myself why I was doing this, why was I bringing my anger and bitterness on this man whom I had nothing to blame for but being narrow minded, no matter how much Marcus Aurelius trusted him. But I couldn't, wouldn't, stop myself. "And I suppose you went to a lavish one and enjoyed yourself a lot, then returned home and went to sleep without a second thought for those women who serviced you and many others. You never gave a thought to those women who endure humiliation, degrading acts, even being seriously hurt for the sport of others like you. And they endure all of these day after day and night after night. Those women in the slaves' quarters were born in a brothel, quaestor! A private brothel. They have known no other life but humiliation, degradation and pain. I seriously doubt if they will ever want to bed another man in their lives, least of them Roman soldiers!"

I didn't add that I had been born in the same brothel, endured the same kind of life and would never, ever bed another man. Only Maximus. If he'd have me. It was not Cornelius Crassus or any other one's business.

Cornelius Crassus remained silent for a long time, holding my angry gaze, looking at me as if he were looking at a strange, exotic, fascinating beast like those paraded in the Roman triumphs or slaughtered in the great arena. Then, his mossy green eyes warmed little by little, his features softened and he respectfully bowed his head.

"Accept my apologize, Domina", he said and his voice was not only quiet and educated but his tone sincere. "I've been extremely rude. Even if its no excuse, please understand that I've spent the last three years in the frontiers, dealing only with soldiers," he smiled a little, shy smile. "It seems that I have completely forgotten my manners."

I sighed, only wanting to put an end to the annoying meeting with the man in charge of taking me to Rome. "Your apologize is accepted, quaestor."

"Thank you, Domina. I will have the horses ordered. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, quaestor, thank you. Just leave me alone till its time for departure."

He remained looking at me, as if he were lost in his own, private thoughts. Then, he bowed and turned to go out. But he stopped at the entrance of the tent and turned to face me.

I held his gaze for a long moment.

Then, he smiled and said, "I should have known the emperor was right ... He always is."

I looked at him quizzically.

"He said you were not only beautiful but also smart and brave ... brave enough to help save the empire."

"Does it bother you, quaestor?" I asked.

His smile broadened. "No, Domina. It doesn't bother me in the least. And my name is Cornelius. Cornelius Crassus." He bowed respectfully, turned on his heels and left the tent.

"Mistress Julia?"

Rufa's voice forced me to turn my attention to her.

"Yes, little one?" I asked wearily.

"Mistress Julia, we going?" she asked in her guttural, halting Latin, her tone as anguished as her dark, concerned face.

"Yes, Rufa. We're going to Rome."

"Don't want!" the girl cried. I flinched. I had never, ever heard Rufa voice a protest or cry.

"Little one--," I started but she refused to hear me, clearly beyond herself with fear.

"Mistress Julia, don't want go! Don't want go!"

I gripped the girl’s shoulders and shook her slightly. "Rufa, listen to me!" Big, fat tears rolled down the ebony cheeks. Her pouty, scarred mouth trembled in anguish. I took the girl's hand and sat on the couch, forcing her to sit by my side. "Listen to me, Rufa. As I explained you, we ... the other women and me have been freed by the emperor. You and the other girls are too young to be freed and left by yourselves. So you will be put in the households of the emperor's relatives."

Rufa sobbed and I felt my heart ache. She had been at my service for the last two years and I had never been able to obtain anything from her but obedience, guttural, spare answers and the ordered services. Seeing her so distressed and tearful was unexpected. And painful.

"Rufa," I went on. "You will be placed at the emperor's daughter’s service. The... the Lady Lucilla is a beautiful woman and also the highest ranking one in the empire. Serving her and her little son is a great honor. She will be a good mistress ... you must serve her well."

I felt my own tears strangling my throat at the mention of the powerful, beautiful woman who loved Maximus. Yet, I had no right to blame her for she had been denied him first and then being offered to him and rejected. She had been born in the imperial palace and I at the slaves' quarters, yet we had more in common than Marcus Aurelius had admitted. For it was not strength and courage what made us equals but our love for the same man ... and his rejection.

Rufa was noisily sobbing, weeping like the child she was.

"Wanna go with you, Mistress Julia!" cried the poor girl. "Go with you!"

Taking Rufa in my arms, I hugged her tightly and the girl buried her face in my bosom. She trembled and I rocked her, trying to soothe her, whispering words of encouragement till she quieted. I caressed her riotus black curls. How could I explain to a ten-years-old girl who had been the lowly servant of a seasoned whore that from now on she'd serve a former empress and a possible future emperor?

"Listen to me, little one. I cannot keep you with me but the emperor is a good man and has agreed to place you with his beloved daughter and grandson," I said while I went on caressing her hair. "You have been a very, very good servant and I'm proud of you. You must serve the Lady Lucilla well."

Rufa raised her face and looked at me not with frightened eyes but with innocent, hopeful ones. "You could go with General and take me. Why not go with General?" she asked and I felt as if salt had been rubbed over my bleeding heart. "It's not possible, little one," I said forcing myself to remember that the girl was too young to understand what was in the hearts of men and women even if at her tender age she had heard and seen more than many a woman hears or sees in her entire life. Desperately, I looked for something that would comfort her and ease her anguish. Then, I remembered the emperor's ring, well hidden in my sash.

"Rufa," I said in a low voice, "Listen to me. I will tell you a secret. A very important one you must not repeat, no matter what happens."

She was but a little girl and that caught her attention.

"There is a reason why you must go to the Lady Lucilla and her son. The emperor needs someone to take care of them, for he spends a lot of time far away and is worried about his daughter and grandson."

The girl's eyes widened in surprise.

"He needs you to be close to Master Lucius and take care of him while he grows up. The emperor does not trust his other slaves and servants for he wants someone who really cares for the boy and someone Master Lucius can trust. Will you do this for the emperor? Will you take care of his grandson?"

Rufa looked puzzled. Then, her face brightened. She nodded vigorously. "I take care," she said with conviction.

"Good," I said and, up to this day I don't know why, I added, "Rufa, some day I may need your help too. Some day I may need you to give an important, secret message to the Lady Lucilla or her son. The Lady Lucilla knows about the message. But if something happens to her, you must tell Master Lucius that some day someone you and his grandfather knew may send him a very important message through you and that the emperor expects him to honor a debt he swore to pay. Will you do it? Will you tell him? And, if the time comes, will you help me and deliver it?"

"Yes, Mistress Julia. I will."

"You must not tell this to any other person but Master Lucius. It will be our secret. Only you, the emperor, the Lady Lucilla and I know about it, Rufa."

The girl nodded her understanding.

"Then, it's settled. We will go to Rome together and once there you will go to the imperial palace and settle with your new masters."

Rufa nodded again. Then she smiled, the first time I ever saw her smile. I couldn't but smile her back, even if my heart was broken and the time was running out, the first rays of sun indicating that the departure was imminent.

"Mistress Julia?"

"Yes, little one?"

She gazed innocently at me. "Who take care of you when I gone? General?"

My sight blurred, my throat tightened, my heart ached as if it was going to burst. But I forced myself to smile again and answer a ten-year-old girl's question. "Yes, Rufa. He will take care of me."

Before she could speak again, I gathered her in my arms and buried my face in her ebony curls.

"Domina, its time."

Cornelius Crassus' voice brought me back from my private thoughts. I stood up and slowly walked to the entrance of the tent. The quaestor moved aside to allow me to get out, then followed me across the praetorium's yard. The horses were ready and Aelia, Eugenia and Ariadna were already there and sitting atop their mounts, excitedly chattering and giggling. They turned around to look at me and offered me their broad, happy smiles but my somber, tight face forced them to silence.

Cornelius Crassus helped me mount, the horse I'd been given -- a beautiful, strong one, its glossy, coppery coat and golden mane and tail shinning under the first rays of dawn. It snorted gently as I sat on its broad back and I absently patted its strong, warm neck.

From my perch atop the horse I saw that everything was ready for departure, the banners gently moving in the breeze, the golden eagles shining, the soldiers in formation, the long train of baggage and supplies stretching behind us.

At the sound of footsteps I turned around and found myself looking down at Maximus. Despite that it was a warm day, he was dressed in his full general's uniform, the dark ribbon artfully tied over his leather cuirass proclaiming his high rank, his cape undulating around his strong, muscular body, the silvery wolf furs dangling from his broad shoulders.

It was the first time that I had seen him up close in full uniform.

He was magnificent.

My hands tightly clasped the reigns as we remained silently looking at each other for a long, painful moment. His blue eyes were soft and warm yet they were unreadable, his emotions well guarded.

The silence stretched unbearably, my heart pounding wildly, my throat tight with anguish and unshed tears. "Will I ever see you again?" I asked, even if I knew the answer. Why did I insist in hurting myself?

"No," came the simple, expected answer. Even if it was expected, it hurt badly. Or perhaps I should say that it would have hurt badly if my heart had not been so numb with pain.

But Maximus' voice had been soft and kind and even if I didn't know how I managed to do it, I smiled at him. "I didn't think so," I said quietly.

He returned my smile with his sweet, boyish one. "You'll be busy establishing your new life."

A new life?

Oh, yes. I was young. I was free. I was no more a whore. I was wealthy enough to buy myself fake documents to erase my past. And hidden in my sash I kept the emperor's ring, the family seal of the most powerful man in the world, the symbol of a debt owed to the woman who helped save the empire and had saved Rome's most important general's life. Yet I had nothing and my new life ahead was but loneliness and pain for there was no wealth or power in the world which could give me the only thing I wanted: the love of the magnificent man quietly standing by my side.

Looking again at his striking, blue eyes I thought briefly that if Maximus had taken me at least once, I'd have the hope that his seed had rooted in my womb and in due time the dark haired baby girl I had cradled in my dream would be born, a flesh and blood link between me and her father no matter how much he refused to have me again. And even if it hadn't, at least I would have that hope to keep me going ahead for some weeks... and when it was over, there'd be still the memory of his body to warm my bed as no man would ever warm it.

But he had refused me and what little I had then to offer, stubbornly denying himself the possibility of being loved by a woman who was neither his wife nor the emperor's daughter but loved him as much as it's possible to love someone.

Maximus touched my foot, once again as if his hand had a will of its own, his callused fingers lightly caressing my skin between the leather strips of my sandal. "You're sure you wouldn't rather travel in the caravan?"

I shook my head, the early morning sun kissing the rows upon rows of white canvass tents and making the brass of the shields and armors shine. I sighed. "No, it feels too confining and I've had enough of being confined."

Maximus nodded to indicate his understanding. But, what could a man who has known nothing but freedom understand when it came to being a woman and a slave? What could this proud, commanding man understand about the degrading subjugation I have endured all my life?

Yet, he was looking at me with a gentle, warm gaze and I had to restrain myself from bowing and caressing his short cropped hair and softly bearded cheek. I hesitated, then said, "You don't need to worry, Maximus. I won't tell anyone that I personally know the great Roman general."

A frown puckered his brow. "Why should that worry me?"

He was a fierce warrior, an army leader beloved both by his men and his emperor. Yet he was so naive when it came to certain things! I averted my face and stared at a point outside the camp gate, anything to avoid having to look at him while I acknowledged my own shame and my determination not to sully him with it "I don't want to embarrass you."

"Julia." Maximus shook my foot. I refused to look at him and he shook it again, his fingers digging in my flesh. "Julia, look at me."

I did so reluctantly, fighting the burning tears I felt glistening in my eyes.

"I am proud to know a woman of such character, strength and intelligence. What Cassius did to you was beyond your control. If you had fought him he would have killed you. You know that."

My heart swelled painfully. Maximus! Oh, Maximus! So strong and virile yet so gentle and sweet! Even if he couldn't love me, even if he wouldn't take me, he still cared for me and tried to protect me... his comfort and protection the only warmth I have known in my life! I felt like throwing myself on my knees as I had done in front of Marcus Aurelius. I felt like wrapping my arms around his legs and pleading with him not to send me away, to let me stay with him and drink in his goodness and compassion. But I knew there was no hope for he'd soon lead his gleaming black stallion down the same road on his way home to Spain and his wife and instead of pleading, I steeled myself, nodded and drew an unsteady breath then looked into the distance again. "I wish you a very long and happy life, Maximus."

"You too," he said, his deep, rumbling voice sending shivers down my spine. He nodded at the praetorian who was standing at attention nearby and the man shouted the order to proceed. Maximus stepped back as my horse started to move. I heard him salute Aelia, Ariadna and Eugenia as I crossed the camp's doors. I longed to look back, to look at him once more but I forced myself to go ahead, my eyes fixed in the horizon, my back straight. For I knew that, if I turned, I'd throw myself from my mount and run to him, imploring him to keep me as desperately as I had implored the emperor to give me to him the night before. But I also knew that, if I did it, I'd be rejected as I'd been rejected the night before and I wouldn't survive another rejection.

Sighing, I raised my head and looked at the sky, the sun gently warming my flesh even if it couldn't warm my heart. I heard the birds singing in the branches. A blue butterfly danced in the air in front of me. A squirrel darted from brush to brush chattering excitedly. The road stretched ahead, a road built decades ago by generation after generation of Roman soldiers, soldiers so alike the ones who marched in front of me and behind me. Life went on with the magnificent indifference with which it always goes on, be it to mercifully erase the scars left by war or to sweep away fleeting human joy.

And suddenly, I knew it. I knew that I'd survive, that I'd go ahead, that I'd go on living for I was strong as the emperor had said I was, the woman who had helped save an empire and also saved Rome's most powerful general's life. And even if Maximus had rejected me, he couldn't forbid my love for him and I'd love him forever.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"No."

My words and Maximus' answer echoed in my mind. But this time they did not hurt. At least not so badly. I smiled and my smile was neither fake nor bitter even if it was sad. "No, General," I whispered. "You're wrong. I will see you again. Oh, yes... I will."

The End

General Maximus

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